Someone to Watch Over Me (7 page)

As he lifted his arms, I pulled
his shirt up over his head. Dropped it to the floor. Lifting my
hand, I traced the curves of his chest. He was lean, long-limbed,
but corded with muscle. His chest was smooth, not a single hair
marring its golden complexion. The edges of his ribs rippled along
his sides
. His stomach flexed under my touch,
his eight-pack growing defined.

The tattoos on his arm
continued up his shoulder and neck and down his ribs. It was the
woman from his first album. She was sitting in a meadow filled with
wild strawberries, high above the ocean, amidst the trees. The moon
was high overhead like a beacon in the night.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. The real
thing
,
strawberry girl.” Impatient, he
took my mouth again, hungrier. His tongue thrusting against mine
with greed. I pushed away, hands pressed against his chest, pushing
then
dragging
him back to me
, w
anting to revel in this,
wanting to
savor it and then feeling bereft when he
ceded.

“I like that,” I said, nibbling
the ring circling his lip. He had another on his tongue. A large
metal ball above and below. “That too. I always wanted one.”

“I’ll take you
myself
.”

“I want to feel it…” Daringly,
I bit my lip and pointed between my thighs. “There. I heard it does
wicked things.”

His eyes flashed, a dark smile
playing at the edge of his lips. He nudged my legs wider, falling
to his knees. His tongue darted out, flicking that metal ball
against my most sensitive spot. My head fell back, my body arching
into him. I was wrong.
He
did wicked things. That ball was
the cherry on top. It brought me to peak faster than our first time
together.

The moon and the stars could’ve
shot from the sky and I wouldn’t have noticed a thing. Lost, I was
in
a
glimmer of hope. Falling deeper and
deeper into an
unfathomable
abyss of
emotion. My mind couldn’t register the magnitude of my
feelings.

Raveling my fingers into his
dark hair, I cried out. He braced my thighs as I tried to push him
away. I couldn’t take anymore. My body trembled against him as he
wrought every rack of pleasure from me. His tongue flicked against
me again and again.

When he
finally
deemed I’d had enough, I fell back against
the mattress, my breaths coming in hungry gasps. I heard the draw
of a zipper, and a rustle as his pants fell to the floor.

Leisurely, he climbed onto the
bed, his expression a warning
, a
promise.
I stopped breathing as he stalked closer, losing myself in his
eyes. He could devour me in their inky depths, trap my soul within
their glossy reflection. God knows, I would go willingly.

“I was wrong,” he said so
quietly I almost didn’t hear. Skimming a finger down my neck and
shoulder, the trail of his touch left goosebumps on my skin. He
circled the peak of my breast, teased it to a stiff
crest
. “There’s no getting you out of my veins.”

“Don’t.” Lifting my hand, I
pressed my fingers to his lips. “Don’t say that.” We had two very
different lives. Nothing could come out of this. There was no
reason to lie to myself with notions of white picket fences and
happy endings. They were just make believe.

“Why, Coop? It’s how I feel.”
He slid into me, slow
ly,
gently, ending
the conversation. Our thoughts centered on the here and now. A
slide of skin. A sigh of pleasure.

Closing my eyes, I moved with
him, matching his pace. He loved with exquisite torture, thrusting
with a gentle rhythm, drawing out every second of our joining with
infinite patience.

We made no promises, spoke of
no future. We relished the moment, satiating each other’s needs. A
touch here. A caress there. And kisses, God, his kisses could
loosen the most reticent
of hearts. I
told myself that they meant nothing. He was just an exceptional
lover.

Lucky me to have him for one
night.

Closing his eyes, he bit his
lip, moving at a measured pace. Beads of sweat rose across his
forehead. I could watch him for hours. That gentle sway of hair
that draped across his face. The tendons that strung from his
shoulder to his jaw. The rippling of flesh over his ribs as his
hips plunged relentlessly forward. He seemed so human to me at that
instant. Attainable.

Opening
his eyes
, he caught me
staring
. A smile
played
at the
corners
of his lips
. “You like what you
see?”

I flushed and turned my head,
denying my attraction.

“You keep lying to yourself,
strawberry girl. You feel it.” Picking up his pace, he gave a few
sturdy thrusts, grunting with strain. “I’m in your veins
,
too.”

Slanting his mouth against
mine, he kissed me hard, pulling me forth as he ascended that rocky
ledge of passion. We rose to a crescendo, panting, tongues tangling
and stroking one another into a frenzy of oral exertions. Then
melded into one heaving mass as we tumbled down the other side.
Limbs meshed, locked together as we rode out our fading
tremors.

FFFFffuuuuuccckkkk. Tate was
right. He was in my veins.

Chapter
4

I
woke
the next morning to
a
conversation taking
place between Tate and Levy, their voices
hushed
in the early morning
.
Listening,
I
nestled under the blankets, biting th
e
back of my hand to keep from laughing aloud.

“
I
want that.”

“
That’s my
donut.”

“I hab it?”

“Emily said that you already had one.”

There was a
long pause from Levy, which denoted a big fat ‘yes’ to Tate’s
observation. The kid was two and he was already mastering the art
of prevarication. “
Pwease,
I hab a
donut?”

“Damn, how can anyone say no to that?”

“Das a bad wood.”

"Oh geez
.
You’re right
. That's a
very bad word.
Don’t tell your mother I said
that. She’ll
ki
ck me out, for
sure.”

“I hab it?”

“
I tell you
what,” Tate negotiated, “that chick said you need your diaper
changed. You let me change your diaper first, and you can have
it.”

“No.”

“
Look, kid,
I don’t want to change it and you don’t want it changed, but if you
work with me here, you’ll be
more
comfortable and one chocolate donut richer. It’s a win win
situation.”

“No.”

“
I’ll throw
in the chocolate milk too.”

“
Chocowit
miwk?”

“
That’s
right—wait! The diaper gets changed first. Diaper
then
donut. Now tell me where they are.”

“
The
diapers, kid, t
he diapers! I
already
know
where the donuts are!”

The b
ed
room door opened. I was still laughing quietly to
myself. Tate walked
in
, flicking the
light
on
a
s
Levy toddled through. Levy saw me and squealed, trundling across
the room, arms raised, hands stretched out.

"M
om
ma! M
om
ma!
Mmmmooommmma!" Reaching down, I caught him at the edge of the bed
and lifted him up with me. He squealed loudly and began smacking
loud, wet kisses boisterously across my face.

Watching with amusement, Tate
shrugged and followed suit. He barreled across the room and dove
into the bed.
He joined
Levy in his
onslaught, taking turns showering me with kisses. Levy found this
entertaining and watched, laughing
,
while
Tate pressed on, his eyes bright and blue with wonder. My heart
nearly fractured in two when Levy smacked his lips in Tate’s
direction, his pudgy body leaning toward him. Tate didn’t hesitate,
kissing him with exaggerated gusto. He didn’t even balk at the
string of drool coming from Levy’s mouth.

“He’s like the coolest thing,”
Tate said in amazement. “He’s like a mini Cooper but with a penis.
That’s what I’m going to call him, Mini Cooper. Mwah.” He pressed
another kiss to Levy’s cheek, as he demanded another kiss. “Mwah
mwah mwah.”

“He’ll keep doing that as long
as you keep kissing him.”

“It’s cool.” He quickly changed
his mind when a string of saliva strung from cheek to cheek.
“O
h
, ok, no more. All done
here
,
buddy. That’s where I draw the
line. Christ, that’s wet and nasty.” He dragged his arm across his
face. “Jesus, where does it all come from?”

“He’s teething.”

“I thought they teethed when
they were babies.”

“Molars. They don’t come in
until two or three.” Turning my head to the side, I yawned widely.
Wiped the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it anyway?”

I had hoped
for Tate to be gone before Em brought Levy home, but
fate clearly wasn’t working in my favor. Now
here he was playing kissy face with my son. I thanked God Levy was
only two and his autobiographical memory wouldn’t kick in for
another few years. Likely, he wouldn’t remember Tate past several
months, or so I had read.

“Ten. Your neighbor brought him
by about an hour ago.
She was called into work
early
. Shouldn’t he be toilet trained by now?”

“
When he
shows interest
. My mom told me not to bother until then.
An
d despite my million attempts,
Levy
wants nothing to do with it
.”

Skeptically,
Tate
eyed Levy
, who clutched
his
toes
and
rolled to his side, staring up
at us with an exuberant smile. “Maybe she’s right. He
seems content to wear soggy drawers.
”

“You d
on’t
have to change his diaper
.”

“I wanted to let you sleep.” He
shrugged, unconcerned.
“I kept you up too
late.”

“
I’m
awake now; I can do it.” I grabbed the edge of
the blankets to throw them back so I could get up, but Tate grasped
my hand, stopping me.

“
I’ll get
it
for you. Just tell me where they
are.”

“
You’re
gonna change his diaper,” I said skeptically. No one enjoyed
changing diapers no matter how much you loved your kid.

“
No, I’m
just offering to get the diaper for you so you don’t have to get
outta bed.” Leaning over me, he nibbled at my bottom lip. I all but
stopped breathing and not because I was entranced with his
devilishly good looks, but because I didn’t want to horrify him
with my morning breath. “You look snug lying under those covers. I
wanna climb in with you.”

“
Top right
drawer.” Right next to my underwear. I’d shoved them in there
during my haste the night before while clearing Levy’s things from
sight. Fat lot of good it did me.

Tate
released my lip from between his teeth then
pushed off the bed and walked to the dresser. He grasped the knobs
on the drawer—as if he were about to discover the answer to life’s
greatest mysteries—and yanked it open. Without much thought, he
reached in and pulled out a diaper.

I released
my
breath, relieved over the reprieve of
having Tate Watkins rifle through my underwear drawer. I had
anything in there from the dreaded period panties to Cookie
Monster-printed bikinis.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God.”

Clearly, I’d
spoken too soon. Tate’s hand dipped down once more. It came back up
with a pair of red leopard thongs—with ‘meow’ printed across the
front—hooked around his index finger. He smiled crookedly over his
shoulder and strung them from finger to finger.

“Tate!”

“
Oh, come
on, Coop, this is
absolutely
fascinating
.” Ignoring my objection, he dove back in, rifling through
my underwear. “This drawer is like a window to your soul. All you
different moods are right here at my fingertips. I’ve got
sexy…straitlaced…playful…lazy…”

“
Do you
always go through girl’s underwear drawers?”

“
No, I’ve
never
stayed the night with anyone
before.” Lifting my white, lacy thongs from the drawer, he turned
them this way and that. “Well once, but I left earl—”

Tossing the
covers back, I
snatched the diaper from
his hand and the wipes from the drawer. I really didn’t care to
hear about his past dalliances, not that I had any right to be
jealous. I used him the same way he used other women, the same way
he used me. He was a flirt and a playboy. Even Carter Strickland
told me not to trust him. I needed to change Levy’s diaper and send
Tate on his way, even if I had to drive him myself.

“
Hey.”
Tate turned, facing
me.

“
What?”
Thanks to Tate’s bribery,
Levy gave me no trouble with changing his diaper. His usual bout of
objections tamed over the promise of a donut and chocolate
milk.

“
I’m not
going to lie to you. Is that what you’re expecting, for me to deny
there were other girls?”

“It’s really none of my—”

“My God,” Tate exclaimed, cutting me off. “I
don’t think I’ve ever seen a pecker that small. It’s like a turtle
head coming out of its shell.”