Page 56 of Big Boss
“It absolutely does not. Tate without an E is Tat, which sounds like we’re getting matching ink.”
He frowns. “Tate has two Es, though. The second one is silent.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Why is he messing with me? “Okay, Mister Bossy, if you say so.” I shrug. “Tate.” I turn the last part of the word into a hard “uh” sound. Tate-uh. So he can hear the silent E.
“I think Tate-uh would look good on you, Erica.” He kisses my forehead, and I can’t quite tell how much he’s joking anymore.
“And give up Weirdly Ridley? What kind of Tate-uh would I be-uh?”
“Well, you could be Mistress Bae Tate-uh, which would make me the…” He raises a devastating eyebrow at me.
“Are you really making that joke? You would be the Mater Bae Tate-uh. Of course. I should have known you were a Master Bae Tate-uh when I met you. All the signs were there, from that disreputable sparkle in your eyes to the giant box of tissues on your desk.”
“Please. I worked for years to cultivate my terrible reputation. There’s no way you could tell at first sight that it was all an act.”
I snuggle in next to him. “You acted like you were on your phone, but I could see the reflection of the screen in the lenses of your glasses. So thank goodness you didn’t go into acting, I guess.”
He kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, and finally my mouth. “Please, Erica. Let’s always be honest with one another about everything. I’ll never again pretend to be on the phone when you’re checking out my super-hot body, and in return, you never pretend like what happens between us is no big deal.”
A joke to set off the little sting of the truth. I’d hurt him, and that wasn’t okay.
“I heard your song, okay? It was absolutely devastating. What happened between us was obviously a big deal.” I wait and then spring the trap. “For one of us, at least.”
He grabs me and bends me into a position I didn’t think would work, and then proceeds to demonstrate that for me at least,theDonovan Tate is, in fact, a very big deal.
When I’m able to string together enough neurons to think in complete sentences, I sit up abruptly. “The fundraiser. You better check in with Jackson.” I chew on my thumbnail. “Darn it. I really thought he was going to start being nice to me after last night, and then you and I snuck off for a little makeup sex.”
“A little? Are you kidding me?” Tate presses himself against me, hard and heavy at the jut of my hip. “Do I need to remind you that this isn’t alittleissue with me? This is the real thing, Erica.”
He bites my lips when we kiss then soothes the sting with his talented mouth, until I am moving against him, stretching my body toward his even though I ache heavily from the intensity of the last twenty-four hours.
“No, don’t change the subject. I know how much this means to you, and I want you to make sure that the rest of the event was a win for First Steps.”
He makes puppy dog eyes at me, but once he figures out that I mean business, he drops the cute act and quick dials Jackson.
“J, my best friend in the world. Please tell me everything about last night was a massive success.”
Jackson’s voice erupts in another of his long-suffering sighs. “I take it you haven’t been following the news coverage.”
My throat constricts at his voice. The last time Jackson took that tone on a phone call, it was because Bella LeGrande had paid some paparazzi to get photos of her checking Donovan Tate’s tonsils.
“What happened? What needs fixing?” I’m sitting up in bed, tugging the top sheet into a makeshift toga, and reaching for one of Tate’s hair ties so I can get to work on damage control.
Donovan’s eyes widen and he looks at the phone.
“Donovan freaking Tate, do you have me onspeakerphone?” Now Jackson’s past caution mode and well into semi-hysterical meltdown. Tate looks over at me apologetically and then takes the call off speaker and lifts it to his ear.
“Sorry, sorry. Just let me hear what the issue is. Between me and Miss Ridley, we can sort it out before the night’s through.” He reaches over and slides the sheet down until one of my nipples is exposed then he licks his thumb and first two fingers and starts torturing me while he resumes his phone call.
Honestly, my brain must have shut down because when the call ends, there’s no way I could have told you what the issue was that Jackson seemed so upset about, other than the speakerphone thing, which is really not as big of a deal as people like to make it out to be.
Sometimes you need a free hand. Like the one that Tate has been using to make my nipple into an achy, sharp peak for however long that phone call lasted.
“Please,” I beg him.
“Please what?” He gives me a slow, dangerous smile I feel right between my thighs.
“Please tell me what the problem is so we can get back to the sexy part of us making up as quickly as possible.” I lick my lips. “Sir.”
