Penelope Douglas - Until You

And I halted what I was doing and sat up.

“What the hell?” I mumbled.

Why was she at my house? I looked at the alarm clock that read after midnight.

“Tate?” Piper said, still laying back on the pillows. “I thought you said she was still gone.”

I climbed off the bed. “Just get dressed, Piper,” I bit out.

“What?” she screamed, and I looked over at her. Her lips and nose were scrunched up, and her chest rose and fell with her hard breathing.

Piper was no attachment and no complications. I appreciated that about her.

But she was pissed, and I didn’t stop to explain. I never did. She knew better.

I never let on that I wanted more than a casual thing, and she’d either roll with it, or she could leave.

Yanking the door open, my friend Sam waited in the hallway, hands in pockets and looking uncertain.

“Sorry, man.” He held up his hands. “Madoc’s got his hands all over her. Thought I should get you.”

Fucking little shit. I barreled past Sam and down the hallway, ready to stick my best friend’s head into the toilet to wake him the fuck up. I was pretty sure he had a thing for Tate, but he was told, years ago, that she was off limits.

And what the fuck was she doing here anyway?

Coming down the stairs, I rounded the corner and immediately stopped, my stomach caving in from the loss of breath.

Jesus Christ.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

She was lost in thought, otherwise she would’ve seen me, too.

I pressed my hands above my head to both sides of the doorframe. It was my way of trying to look casual, like I didn’t care. But honestly, I just needed the support to keep my legs from caving beneath me.

My heart thundered through my chest, and I wished like hell that I could pause this moment, just look at her until the Earth fell apart.

Her hair was lighter, and her skin was darker, probably from being in the sun this summer, and her body had gotten more toned. More grown up. The shape to the back of her thighs had my mouth going dry. Her nose was still little, her skin still flawless, and her full lips all made her look like the perfect doll. And I never played with dolls, but I damn sure wanted to play with this one.

Right at that moment, I wanted everything from Tate. Everything. Her anger and passion, her hate and lust, her body and soul.

I wanted control of all of it.

I’m the one that haunts you. Not the other way around. My father invaded my head again. He and Tate were always in there.

Neither of them wanted me, and both of them owned me.

But one of them I could control.

“What is she doing here?” I snapped, staring at Madoc but completely aware of Tate snapping her attention my way.

Madoc kept silent, but I could see the corners of his mouth trying to suppress a smile.

“‘She’ wanted a word with you.” Tate’s voice was calm but there was a hint of snippiness to it. I smiled to myself, feeling the long-lost adrenaline warming my dry veins.

“Make it quick. I have guests.” Dropping my hands, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to appear bored.

Sam and Madoc veered off into the kitchen, and Tate stood tall with her chin up. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes could light a fire.

I wasn’t sure what had happened with Madoc to make her so angry, or maybe she was just mad at me, but I finally felt in my element after a year of walking around dead.

“I. Have. Guests,” I repeated, when she didn’t speak right away.

“Yes, I can tell.” She looked behind me, and I knew Piper was still here. “You can get back to servicing them in just a minute.”

I narrowed my gaze, locking her in.

Well, well, well…Tate had a low opinion of me. Go figure.

Piper walked over and kissed me on the cheek. Saying goodbye? Reminding me she was here? I have no clue, but she always did little things like that at unexpected times, and it made me uncomfortable. Like she wanted more, and I was obligated to give it to her.

I stood there, willing her to stop waiting for something and just go home. Tate’s presence was doing me more good than hers, anyway.

After Piper took the hint and left, Tate spoke up. “I have to be up in about five hours for an appointment in Weston. I’m asking politely that you please turn down the music.”

Was she serious? “No.”

“Jared, I came here being neighborly. It’s after midnight. I’m asking nicely.” The begging was cute.

“It’s after midnight on a Friday night,” I explained, trying to sound as condescending as possible.

“You’re being unreasonable. If I wanted the music off, I could file a noise complaint or call your mom. I’m coming to you out of respect.” She looked around the room. “Where is your mother, by the way? I haven’t seen her since I’ve been back.”

Oh, Tate. Don’t go there. Don’t act like you know me or my family.

“She’s not around much anymore.” I kept my voice flat and unemotional. “And she won’t be dragging her ass down here in the middle of the night to break up my party.”

She sighed, looking annoyed. “I’m not saying to ‘break it up’. I’m asking that you turn the music down.”

“Go sleep over at K.C.’s on the weekends,” I suggested, circling the pool table in the family room.

“It’s after midnight!” she blurted out. “I’m not bothering her this late!”

“You’re bothering me this late.”

The control was back, and my jaw twitched with a smile.

I felt calm. And very sure about who I was. It was strength, confidence, and trust rushing over me again.

“You are such a dick,” she whispered.

I stopped and glared, pretending to be angry. “Careful, Tatum. You’ve been gone for a while, so I’ll cut you a break and remind you that my goodwill doesn’t go far with you.”

“Oh, please,” she sneered. “Don’t act like it’s such a burden to tolerate my presence. I’ve put up with more than a little from you over the years. What could you possibly do to me that you haven’t done already?”

And I was so elated with the challenge that I almost laughed.

“I like my parties, Tatum. I like to be entertained. If you take my party, then you’ll have to entertain me.” I surprised myself by how low and unmistakably wanting my voice got. The images of how she could entertain me rushed through my head.

But Tate would never. She was a good girl. Brushed and flossed. Ironed her clothes.

And she didn’t do bad things in beds with bad boys.

She tucked her long, wavy hair behind her ear and pinned me with disdain. “And what disgusting task, pray tell, would you like me to do?” She waved her hand in the air, dramatically, and my blood rushed with how different she seemed.

She’d gotten smart with me before. And before France, she’d taken some risks.

But every time, she’d seemed nervous and on the verge of tears. Now, she looked perfectly comfortable, almost as if this was all a waste of her time.

Good.

Stepping up my game should be fun. And a welcome distraction.

Coming to stand in front of her, I felt heat and a familiar sweet ache in my pants.

Shit. A fucking hard-on right now?

My dick throbbed in my pants, but I tried to ignore it.

Yeah, my body was attracted to hers. So what? I was attracted to most things that wore skirts. Or pajama shorts with black hoodies and Chucks.

My emotions ran wild with Tate, but I knew I couldn’t fuck her. It’d be a cold day in hell before I gave her that kind of power over me.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view, either.

“Take this off,” I grabbed the hem of her little black sweatshirt, “and give me a lap dance.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

And I noticed the more nervous, and not so confident, break to her voice, and it was like music to my ears.

My gazed firmed up as I challenged her. “I’ll put on Remedy—still your favorite song?—you give me a quick lap dance, and the party’s over.”

Would I really stop the party? No. There would be no situation where I would actually give her what she wanted.

And I would enjoy teaching her that fact. I really hoped, though, that she wouldn’t take me up on the offer. Don’t get me wrong. Having her body rubbing against mine wouldn’t suck, but I wouldn’t be able to just fuck her and leave. I walked a thin line with Tate, and I knew I’d want seconds.

She looked at me for a minute, several emotions crossing her sweetly cruel face. Consideration as she actually looked like she was thinking about it. Then anger when she realized she’d only end up being humiliated. Defeat when she accepted that there really was no win here for her. And loss when sadness crossed her glassy eyes. Not sure what that was about. And then something different.

Her brow relaxed, and she tipped her chin down, looking up at me.

Shit.

I knew that look. I wear it all the time.

Defiance.

She twisted around, her hair flying over her shoulder, and my heart skipped a beat as she began shouting throughout my house at the top of her lungs.

“Cops!” she screamed into the living room. “Cops! Everyone get out of here! Cops coming in the backdoor! Run!”

Motherfucker!

I watched, helplessly, as all of the drunk and high idiots hanging out at my house dashed to make their escape.

What the hell? They actually believed her!

Heat flared up my neck, and I folded my arms over my chest to keep my heart from jumping out of my body.

People scattered out of the house, fleeing out of the kitchen and living room and through the front door like there was a fucking fire. Most of them were underage, so they had reason to be on alert, but still? You’d think the stupid shits would at least look around first.

But no, they just fled.

And in no time at all, my house was almost empty. Except for the ones already passed out and whoever was hidden upstairs in the bedrooms.

Blood pumped through my veins like hot sugar, the pain almost unbearable but so mouth-watering that I craved more. Something had changed in her, and now she was challenging me.

Hell, yes.

Approaching my target, I smiled and let out a condescending sigh. “I’ll have you in tears in no time,” I promised.

She stared at me, almost amused. “You’ve already made me cry countless times.” And she raised her middle finger to me. “Do you know what this is?” she asked as she took it and patted the corner of her eye with it. “It’s me, wiping away the last tear you’ll ever get.”

And she turned around and walked out.

My mouth wouldn’t close, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the empty doorway.

Holy shit.

Tingling started in my throat, and I lost my breath as I started laughing.

Son of a bitch, I was smiling, too.

I couldn’t believe she’d just said that to me. That was definitely a challenge.

Oh, baby. It’s on.

“Well, she’s different.” Madoc was behind me, and I blinked away my smile.

I turned around to face him. “You touched her?” My tone threatened.

“Sorry, man.” He looked at me like he hadn’t been told ten times already to keep his hands off of her. “I forgot. Won’t happen again.” He shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the kitchen.

Yeah, it better not.

I didn’t know if he was really coming onto Tate. Sam said he was touching her, but Madoc was a good friend who knew the boundaries.

I wasn’t sure what he was up to.

I glanced once more to the front door, remembering how Tate just walked out with her head high, her voice steady, and more confidence than I’d ever seen in her.

Game on.

My shoulders relaxed, and I climbed the stairs and went to bed. This time without a sleeping pill and without any thoughts of my father.

“Ugh, I think my dick is broken,” Madoc groaned as he adjusted himself right in the middle of the hallway at school.

I shook my head at him before nodding to a couple of friends passing by.

“Then stick to girls, asshole,” I joked. “They’re probably softer than the guys you like.”

Strolling down the hallway on the first day of Senior year, I felt a breeze washing over me that no one else felt. Madoc was bragging about his conquests, I got the classes I wanted, and I was almost done with the visitations to the prison.