“Put it on me?” she asked, and I tried to ignore the tear that fell down her cheek. I hoped it was a happy tear, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t wait for her father to relax on the rules of how much time we were allowed to be together. I damn well needed to touch her.

And soon.

We were eighteen, but we both respected her dad. But in his head—and probably most father’s heads—eighteen was still too young for the stuff I wanted to do to her.

For the stuff I’d already done to her.

I worked the clasp, fastening it to her wrist, and then pulled her onto my lap so that she straddled me.

Oh, Christ.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, her center grinding on me, and I closed my eyes for second.

It’d been too long.

Okay, only a week, but still.

When you’ve tasted the one thing that fills you up, it’s impossible not to want more of it.

A lot more.

She leaned down, melting her soft, sweet lips to mine, and I held her h*ps tight. I knew I couldn’t stay, but I didn’t want to stop, either.

“Jared,” a deep male voice threatened, and we both jerked our heads to the door.

Shit. Tate’s dad.

I sighed, shaking my head.

“You need to go home now,” he ordered me through the closed door. “We’ll see you for dinner tomorrow night.”

Awesome.

My body was screaming, but what could I tell him?

Hey, I need your daughter for about three hours or until she passes out from exhaustion? Or, would you mind if I slept over, because I never sleep so well as when Tate’s lips are buried in my neck?

Yeah, I snorted, that’d go over really well. “Yes, sir,” I responded, and I could feel Tate’s body shaking with silent laughter.

I looked back to her. “I guess I need to go.”

She held my shirt, touching her nose to mine. “I know,” she said reluctantly. “Thank you for my bracelet.”

I climbed off the bed and kissed the hell out of her before we said goodbye. She damn well wasn’t making it easy, either, looking at me like she wanted to eat me.

But I did as I was told—for now—and climbed back through the tree.

Now, I was actually thrilled that Mr. Brandt had never cut this thing down.

Wait…he might now, though.

I laughed to myself as I crawled back through my window, waved to her, and shut off the lights.

The hard-on in my pants hadn’t lessened, and I was half-tempted to bring her back to my room.

Another cold shower night.

Making my way to the bathroom, I felt my phone vibrate against my thigh, and I grabbed it out of my pocket.

Looking at the screen, I had an urge to flush it down the toilet.

K.C.

Chapter 39

I groaned.

It was late, and she and I weren’t chatty. What the hell did she want?

Sliding the screen, I answered. “Yeah?”

“I have something for you,” she sang, her voice slow and sultry and way too unnerving.

I straightened my shoulders, tensing. “I’m sure I’m not interested,” I said flatly, turning on the shower.

“Oh, you will be.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m at Madoc’s house. Hurry or we’ll start without youuuu.”

Jesus. I wasn’t one to judge, but K.C. could be a little stupid sometimes. Right now, however, she just seemed drunk.

“Put him on the phone,” I ordered, my patience circling the drain.

I heard her giggle before the rustle on the other end.

“Dude, just get over here,” Madoc laughed, keeping his voice low. “You’ll want a piece of this.”

What the f**k? “Of K.C.?”

“What?” Madoc got defensive. “K.C.’s awesome. She got you a present. He’s waiting in the hot tub right now. I’ll give you a hint. His name is Nate.”

My pulse throbbed in my throat, and my face got hot.

“So get your f**king ass over here!” he shouted at me and hung up.

Oh, man. I breathed in and out, wanting to laugh and kick something at the same time.

Okay, I guess K.C. wasn’t stupid, after all.

I had no idea how she wound up with Nate—and at Madoc’s house—but it was perfect.

I would pound the shit out of him for myself, but I’d kill him for Tate.

When I thought of how she’d cried, having to face her father last week. Or of how I’d escorted her to every class to make sure no one said shit to her.

Every tear down her face, every shake of her chest, and every time she’d closed her eyes in embarrassment was pain that I’d caused. Nate and Piper didn’t have a problem with her. They retaliated against me.

I walked into the spare bedroom and shook my brother awake. “Wanna go pick a fight?”

After we’d gone into Chicago today for Tate’s present, he’d crashed at my house. Even though I hated that he wasn’t with us, I was relieved his foster parents were lenient with the visitations. He’d slept over every night this week, driving an hour to school every day.

“Hell, yes,” he mumbled groggily and got out of bed.

He pulled his hair back into a long ponytail, and we both slipped into our Trent trademark black hoodies before walking out the door. My mom was asleep, and I briefly thought of trying to grab Tate and take her along, but it was better that she stayed home. No use taking the chance of getting her into more trouble.

We climbed into my nearly repaired Boss, and set out.