Page 69 of You're To Blame 2

“Tate, we can’t.”

He scowled. “I’m fucking done, Chelsea. You’re my woman and I don’t give a shit who knows.”

I stroked my fingers through his dark damp hair. His tongue traced along my neck.

“Guy’s are always working out. How did you luck up with alone time?” I moaned.

“I told them to get the fuck out.” Anger poured over his words.

“Don’t worry. No one will come in here until I’m gone.”

His lips crushed mine again. “I need to be inside you now.” Tate lowered me to the floor long enough for us to peel our clothes off of each other.

He reached into the shower and adjusted the water temperature. The shower wall shielded us from the rest of the locker room.

Tate intertwined our fingers and led me into the shower. I peered up at my boyfriend. If he said no one was coming, I believed him.

His fingers swept over my bare shoulder. “We were apart for over a month, Chelsea.”

My name sounded like velvet silk flowing from his lips. My core heated. I was turned on the second he was in close proximity. I almost felt I was hungrier for him since he returned. Maybe because I didn’t know if he’d die in London.

“I’ve been robbed.”

“What?”

“I can’t get over my brother asking for your hand in marriage. Only I was supposed to ask you to marry me.”

My head dropped against his chest. I couldn’t bear to stare into those sad blue eyes.

“Baby, I promise we are stronger together. We can’t allow them to win. We will prevail. Look at me, Chelsea.”

I lifted my head from his pounding heart. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

How would we really get through this? I had to figure out a way to make it right. To save our relationship. Or they would destroy our future.

“Tate, trust me when you propose to me it will be my favorite moment in time.”

He smirked. “I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Clutching his broad shoulders, I hopped up into his arms. His lips slipped along my collarbone.

My legs loosely hung around his toned waist. Tate’s lips fell over mine as he slid inside me.

“Oh, so good. I love you so much. Don’t ever forget that.”

His brow wrinkled, and he stopped his movements. “Why did you say those words? Chelsea, don’t do anything crazy.”

Gripping the nape of his neck, I shoved my tongue past his lips.

Tate plowed into me. His tranquil blue eyes held mine. “Don’t do anything crazy,” he repeated. “Promise me you won’t.”

I intermingled our lips again. “I love being with you, Tate.”

“Chelsea, you are my home.”

“And you are mine, Tate.” My head dropped back against the wall as he slipped deeper inside me. He gripped my trembling thigh.

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