Page 167 of Runaways

I swallow hard, pulling the small towel wrapped around my body tighter. "I just need some time," I tell him, hoping he'll back off. "I need space."

"No," he says. "No more time. We've wasted enough time. And look around—there's no space."

I shake my head. "I can't—"

He cuts me off with his mouth on mine, his tongue pushing past my lips while his hands find my hips, and he closes the space between our bodies. Tate moans, digging his fingers into my skin while grinding the hard ridge of his dick through his sweatpants against my bare pussy, causing me to gasp.

"Tate…"

"It's okay," he whispers against my lips as he hitches one of my legs around his waist. "I promise, Noah. I'll be good this time."

He dives back into my mouth, pulling my top lip through his teeth as I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, tighter, while I rock my hips, rubbing my clit against his hardness.

"I want you so bad, Noah," he says. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

I reply with a whimper, and he spreads my legs wider, increasing the pressure against my clit. I grip his shoulders tighter, rolling my hips in circles against his cock.

"Tate…"

Fuck me. I'm about to come from grinding on him, and he knows it, too, because he smiles against my lips and picks up the pace. My spine grates painfully against the exposed wood beam behind me, and I gasp, arching my back.

It only makes it better. My toes curl, my fingernails dig into his skin, and he groans.

"See what you do to me?" he rasps. "See how fucking hard you make me? Go ahead, baby. Rub your wet pussy on my dick until you come."

"Fuck!" I scream as my clit pulses against his dick. "God fucking damn it, Tate. Fuck!"

"Let me fuck you," he whispers, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth while he grinds against my throbbing pussy. "I know you want it. I'll make you feelso good."

I'm still riding out the orgasm, still weak-kneed and weak-willed, and so I reach my fingers inside the waistband of his pants, but freeze when I hear a key turn in the lock.

I quickly shove Tate off of me, breathlessly clinging to my towel.

"Hey," Silas says when he steps inside. "What's…going on?"

"Nothing," I say far too quickly.

But I'm flushed and out of breath, and Tate is rock hard, his dick straining against his grey sweats with a big fucking wet spot on the front of them. It's pretty obvious what's going on.

I grab my coffee and dart toward my bedroom.

"Nice. Run away, Noah. It's what you do best."

I don't breathe until I close the door behind me. I dress and sit on my bed, drinking my coffee and staring at the wall, wondering how the fuck I let my guard down enough for Tate to dry hump me into an orgasm in the kitchen.

I listen to them speak in hushed voices for a while before the shower turns on, and then I grab my book and journal from the nightstand and start reading.

I stay in my room until I have to leave for the dinner shift, eating alone as soon as I get the chance and well before Tate and Silas get there. Once they do, I tell Silas I already ate sinceI skipped breakfast and easily fall back into my habit of pretending Tate doesn't exist.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Silas asks when they bring their plates to the kitchen.

"No," I tell him. "I like walking alone."

Silas frowns. I know that isn't the answer he wanted; I know he wants me to make up with Tate, but I can't do it.

"You can't avoid me forever, Noah," Tate says. "We live together."

"Against your will," I say.

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