Sheltering His Desire (19 page)

He wandered back into the living room, and
held up an empty box. It was from her pregnancy test. Her gut sank.
Why hadn’t she hidden that better instead of just leaving it on top
of the trash? Or maybe she should have just owned up to it right
away instead of trying to hide it.

“So this was negative?” he asked.

That wasn’t the way she wanted him to lead.
“Would negative be better?” Not that she had planned for him
finding out this way, but in a perfect, everything is going
smoothly now world, he wouldn’t be wearing a scowl, and he’d have
asked if it was positive.

His mouth twisted in irritation. “Negative
would justify the 'no there's nothing to tell you' response. I’m
pretty sure positive is the kind of something you don’t just
dismiss.”

“So what would you prefer the result was?”
Alyssia knew this was childish. Coming clean was her best option,
but concern twisted her from the inside out. They hadn’t been
together long enough for her to lose Tate.

Wait. Lose him? The phrase gnawed at her. Why
would she think that? It was true, they’d had some bumps, and they
hadn’t officially been together for long, but even before they were
a couple, he’d always been there. Since she was young, he looked
out for her. And what he told Jared resonated so deeply with her.
It wasn’t that she always called Tate first because he was the
crush she never got over. She didn’t think his name first when the
news was good or bad or even just mediocre because he was her
brother’s buddy.

He really was her best friend, and even
though she’d only known about the baby for a few hours, if it had
been any other news at all, she would have dialed him before anyone
else, just to shout with joy and share.

The words stuck in her throat, and she forced
them out. “I do have something to tell you. My birth control
failed. I’m pregnant.” It terrified her to say it out loud, but at
the same time, it was comforting to have it off her chest. “I’m
sorry.”

The irritation vanished from. His face,
replaced with a blank mask of nothing. “Sorry for… keeping this
from me? For not trusting me with this information? For thinking… I
don’t know. What were you thinking, Lys?”

“I was scared. I think that’s fair. This
isn’t something we planned for. We’re still new as us. I figured
the 'do you want kids' conversation was at least a few months
off.”

“So was the plan to keep it to yourself until
you thought we were in a good place for that talk?” His mask
slipped, and hurt flitted across his features.

“I haven’t even known for twelve hours. I’m
still adjusting to the news, and you’ve always made it clear a
family wasn’t in your future. I assumed that included kids.”

“My views on my future have changed. Or did
you think I was making up all everything I said about wanting you
by my side? I’ve listened to and heard you, Lys. I know what you
want out of life.”

“But what do you want?” The question knocked
a fear loose that she hadn’t been able to name before now. Tate
spent so much time worrying about her. It was sweet, but it wasn’t
a foundation for long term if he put his own needs aside.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I
don’t know. Honestly, I haven’t thought about it. The one thing I
do want is what you said before. To do this together, whatever
this
entails. I know Jared doesn’t believe me when I say
that, and I’m sure he’s not the only one. You and I have a spotty
history. But you’re the one who said we were doing this with each
other; I thought you meant it.”

Alyssia frowned. He was right. But even
considering all that, “I’m still scared, Tate. And I’m still
processing.”

He drew his mouth into a thin line and leaned
against the wall. “I get that. But…” He crossed the room, took her
hand in his, and looked her in the eye. The test was positive,
really?”

She nodded.

A smile cracked onto his face, and he
squeezed her hand. “That’s amazing.”

A huge cloud she hadn’t realized was haunting
her lifted, and relief flooded her. She threw her arms around his
neck and kissed him. This was going to be okay after all. She never
should have doubted.

Alyssia powered down her work computer, and
gathered her purse. Going home before the sun set, instead of as it
rose, she liked that. Besides, Tate was picking her up, and she
liked that even more. He was already waiting in the lobby, chatting
with Sara.

The moment Alyssia stepped into the main
room, his attention was on her. Her cheeks flushed at the smile
that spread across his face.

“Don’t keep her up too late.” Sara warned.
“She’s got an important eight a.m.”

“I’ll do what I can. No promises.” Tate
stepped closer, wrapped an arm around Alyssia’s waist and kissed
her.

She moaned against his mouth. Such an amazing
feeling.

Sara sighed. “So perfect,” she said. Alyssia
looked up just in time to see Sara snap a picture with her
phone.

Alyssia held up a hand. “Delete that.”

“Nope. Cutest couple of the year.”

The front door slammed open, smashing into
the far wall, the noise reverberating through the room. Alyssia
spun, heart hammering at the abrupt interruption.

Bryce Thompson Jr. stood in the front lobby,
face contorted. His cheeks were red. His mouth was twisted in a
sneer. “Give me back my fucking dog.”

Tate stepped in his path, fists clenched, and
advanced forward. “You need to leave.”

Alyssia was aware of Sara grabbing the phone,
and dialing. But most of her attention was on the scene in front of
her. Her stomach flipped in on itself, adrenaline spiking.

“Not until I have my dog.” Bryce stepped
forward and Tate met him.

Tate grabbed his arm, and pushed back. Bryce
wrenched free, and let a fist fly, clipping Tate in the jaw.

“Stop.” Alyssia looked for an opening.
Something she could do to step in.

“Yes, we have an intruder,” Sara told the
person on the other end of the line. Alyssia assumed 911. “Violent.
Assaulting a customer.”

Tate growled, and dove his shoulder into
Bryce’s chest. The teenager returned the favor with a direct punch
to Tate’s gut. Tate grunted and doubled over.

Alyssia looked around the room for something,
anything she could use to stop this. Bryce advanced on her. “Give
me back my fucking dog.”

She retreated as he advanced. Her pulse
hammered in her ears, drowning out the background noise.

“It’s not your dog.” Bryce’s voice was low
and threatening, but a slur running through the words. “He’s mine.
I get to do what I want with him. If he’s a bad dog, I get to beat
him. I bought him. I’ll buy you, too, bitch.” As he got closer, a
wash of alcohol on his breath hit Lys, making her eyes water.

Tate approached him from behind, hooked his
arms under Bryce’s and, pressed his interlocked fingers into the
back of the kid’s neck. He dug his knee into the back of Bryce’s
leg, and forced him to the ground. “Don’t touch her.”

“Let go.” Bryce struggled against the grip,
but Tate held fast.

The door swung open for the second time in as
many minutes, and two officers stepped in cautiously, hands on
their holstered guns.

“We got it from here,” one said. Alyssia knew
the man—he almost always took her reports, and had stopped by the
shelter several times in the last few weeks to make sure things
were going all right despite the protesters out front.

They extracted Tate and Bryce from each
other, and cuffed the teenager. Relief shuddered through Alyssia,
and she wrapped Tate in a hug, holding on until they both stopped
shaking.

****

Alyssia grabbed a handful of ice from the
freezer and stuffed it inside a bag. She returned to the living
room to find Tate leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Sara had canceled the 8 a.m. After spending the last several hours
answering police questions, filing a report, and having a doctor
tell Tate nothing was broken, but his face would look pretty nasty
for a while, Alyssia knew they weren’t going to be getting up
early.

She knelt on the cushion next to Tate, and
pressed the bag of ice to his eye. “My hero.” She was only half
teasing. Investing money he already had in her business was one
thing, but taking a fist for her… Something she never thought she’d
have to see, but she couldn’t help being warmed by the gesture.

“I wasn’t really thinking about being a
hero.” He covered her hand with his, the heat of his palm searing,
where the ice bag chilled. “I was more concerned about you.”

“That’s what makes it heroic.”

He pulled the ice pack away, and focused on
her. “If you say so. Personally, I’ve got better things to think
about.”

She raised her brows. “Really? Like
what?”

“Like why I’m the only one with a cold face
right now.”

“Because you’re the guy with the black
eye.”

“So?” Tate plucked an ice cube from the pack.
“I’d rather focus on you than that tiny purple bump on my face.” He
traced the frozen liquid over her bottom lip and then her top. His
voice dropped an octave, gaze locked on her face. “Like how
kissable your lips are.”

Her mouth parted at the shock of cold and she
gasped at the tease of melting water against her skin. “How long
your neck is.” He popped the cube onto his tongue, and lowered his
head. Ice and his lips caressed a line down to her collarbone. She
arched her back and whimpered. Her nails slid up his back, and she
shifted her weight to get closer.

He lowered one hand to the back of her knee.
She moved her leg, until she was half wrapped around him, urging
him on.

“This bit is always fun, too.” His icy lips
brushed her ear, and she gasped.

“That does seem like a lot to think about.”
Her comment was cut short when he nipped her earlobe with his
teeth. Her fingers wrapped in his thick hair and she pulled him
back to her, crushing her lips against his. An insistent need grew
between her legs.

She covered his other hand and pushed it
further up her thigh, her knee hooking on his hip. His hand moved
up the back of her thigh, sliding over the curve of her hip. He
traced along the waistband of her jeans, a chuckle rumbling in his
chest. His mouth moved back to her neck, words tickling her skin.
“Good point. I guess we’ll just have to cover multiple spots.”

She fumbled for a comeback, attempts failing
when his teeth grazed the soft spot between her neck and shoulders,
and he sucked on the sensitive flesh.

His fingers brushed her crotch through denim
and she whimpered. Her nails dug into his back, holding him close.
He pressed two fingers against the seam of her pants, and pressed
into her slit. She squeaked and shifted her weight until her clit
rested under his touch. He massaged harder, and she ground against
his hand.

He pulled away abruptly, and tugged her to
her feet. “We need a little more room than the couch.” He led her
into the bedroom, spun her to a stop, and rested his hands on her
cheeks. When he pressed his lips to hers, her chest threatened to
burst. His tongue pushed into her mouth, massaging and twisting
with hers. Wet need throbbed between her legs, wanting more
attention, and her nipples pressed against the lace of her bra.

She glided her fingers down his chest,
undoing each button she encountered, then pushed his shirt off his
shoulders. Hunger swelled inside, combined with the lingering
adrenaline from earlier. Each touch sent fire over her skin, and
his comforting scent filled her thoughts.

He broke the kiss long enough to let her yank
his undershirt over his head. He gripped her hair, and she gasped
at the sharp jerk when he lowered his head to the hollow at the
base of her throat. Her pulse threatened to run away when he cupped
her breast, and squeezed a nipple through her bra.

His strong touch coaxed every nerve ending to
life. She dragged her thumb over his chest, and flicked a small
brown nub, slowly at first, then faster in response to his moans.
He stripped her shirt and bra off, and tossed them aside. He guided
her to the bed. Her sex pulsed, wanting attention. He massaged her
breast, then drew a pink button into his mouth. When he flicked his
tongue back and forth at a rapid pace, she tilted her head back
with a gasp. God, that felt amazing. It tugged a chord inside that
ran from her nipple straight to her aching center.

He continued the motion for several minutes,
switching between breasts, until her thoughts swam with so many
sensations she couldn’t process them.

She wanted more. To feel his entire body
pressed against her. She undid his belt and slacks, and slid her
hand inside his boxers. His mouth vibrated against her rigid nipple
when he groaned. She worked him as free as was possible, given they
were both sitting, and stroked his shaft in time with his sucking.
He thrust his hips against her.

Without warning, he unsnapped her jeans,
jerked the zipper down, and nudged her onto her back. He yanked her
pants down her legs, then leaned over her, voice deep and gravelly.
“I need to fuck you.”

She nodded at the hunger in his voice, not
sure she trusted herself to speak. He shed the rest of his
clothing. She scooted back on the bed, already slick with
anticipation. With a single thrust, he drove inside her. She arched
at the sensation of being spread open, drawing him in farther. He
leaned forward, hands on either side of her head, and worked his
hips slowly, keeping the rhythm steady. She pushed against him,
trying to increase the pace.

He dipped his head in, mouth hovering over
her ear. “If you do that, I can’t last long.”

She smiled. “I don’t mind.”

He sat straight up, pushing himself deeper
with a sudden thrust. “I do.” He grabbed one of her knees, and
drove it to her chest. With his free hand, he reached between them,
and found her clit. He bumped his thumb over the button, pressing
harder each time he thrust into her.