Page 121 of Runaways

"Why not? Let's just call it even for a minute, okay? I left you in a hole—fine. I'm sorry."

"I almost died in that fucking hole, Tate! I—"

"And you…" he interrupts. "You beat me with a barstool, stabbed me, and tried to eat me like you ate your fucking dad, so…that also wasn't very nice, Noah. You're not a nice girl. And it makes me fucking angry when youpretendyou're a nice girl."

"Yeah, well, it makes mefucking angrywhen you pretend like you care about me! When you act like you care if I eat, and you feed me and sing to me or when you tell me we're what love looks like to you, and then you go and…" I can't even say it, so I don't. "You were always a manipulative fuck."

"Thank you," he says. "Yes, I am. But not to you, Noah. Never to you. The four of us…" He traces my jawline with his fingertip. "We were different; you know that."

"No. Not in the end."

In the end, we were just like everyone else. Selfish. Spiteful. Vengeful. Afraid.

I was afraid. And I'm so tired of it.

"We're even," he says. "Hey, look at me." He releases my other wrist and, with a hand on my cheek, guides me to meet his eyes. "Let's be even…just for now, Noah. Because I want to touch you and taste you so badly. You got me all muddy, and I got you all bloody. You can take another chunk out of me tomorrow if you want, but just not right now, okay?"

I nod. "Okay, Tate."

He sighs with relief, smiling slightly before pressing a kiss to my lips. "Thank you."

I let my eyes close as he trails kisses down the length of my throat, unconcerned with any mud or blood he's dripped onto my skin. He reaches behind me, and I arch my back so he can unhook my bra, feeling him hard against me when I do. Tate groans, rocking his hips from side to side, just as eager for more friction as I am.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he says, removing my bra from my body before sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.

"Don't…don't talk to me," I say breathlessly.

He sucks harder, letting the nipple slide through his teeth before he releases it, causing me to yelp. "I can't do that. That's not part of the deal, Noah." He kneels between my legs, his movements slow as if he thinks maybe I'll change my mind and start kicking and fighting again.

Maybe I should.

As soon as I think it, it's like he sees it in my eyes. He holds up a finger and says, "Don't do it. I'm tired, Noah, and it's not just from the blood loss and the vodka. Whatever's left of my soul…is really tired of fighting with you."

"I'm really tired, too," I tell him, choking on the words.

"Okay," he says, nodding. "It's okay."

Then he hooks his fingers under the sides of my underwear, pulling them down my legs and over my feet.

Still moving slowly, cautiously, he palms the back of my thighs, pulling them apart before lowering his body to the floor, keeping his eyes fixed on mine until he dips his head,straight, shaggy black hair falling in front of his face, and kisses my pussy.

He's soft at first—slow and gentle in a way that's unusual for him, but thorough. His tongue ring circles my clit, and I moan, lifting my hips off the ground.

It's then that I realize I've been fighting against him without realizing it. I unclench my thighs, relax my knees, and let my legs fall apart. Tate reaches under my knees and grabs my hands, lacing our fingers together.

"Mmmm," he moans against my clit. "There you go. You taste like heaven, baby."

He dives back in, flicking his tongue ring against me, increasing the pressure while I buck my hips against him, my head swimming. It's a high, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think his hand was around my throat because I can't breathe, I can't think. It was all just too much—this night, the emotions, the cold, the fear, the rage—it was too much and now this is too much, too.

It's him. He's too much.

"Tate…" I whimper, my body writhing beneath him. I squeeze his hands in mine and close my eyes, my breath heaving as that delicious tension coils even tighter in my core.

Tate reacts by moving in closer, his tongue working me faster until I explode, my back arching off the hardwood floor as the pulse between my legs takes over my body and pleasure shoots up my spine.

He licks me through it and then some, still running his tongue up and down my pussy, sucking my cum from methrough the aftershocks and that too-sensitive feeling. It's almost a relief when he lifts his mouth.

"Baby, let go," he says.

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