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“Is this a game?” Tate whispered. Jameson shook his head. “No, baby
I have never chased after a woman in my life, and now it feels like I spend most of my time chasing after Tatum O'Shea
While he had been so busy trying to warn her away, he hadn't even noticed himself falling into her. Now Jameson couldn't tell where she began and he ended.
“One month to make you forget your ballplayer even exists,” he whispered against her ear. Oh yes, he knew all about the ballplayer. Jameson had an online subscription to The Boston Globe.
Being with Jameson is like doing heroin. Highly addictive and highly lethal.
“Scared, baby girl?” Jameson asked softly, his eyes roaming over her face. She cleared her throat. “Bored would be a better word to use,” she managed to reply. A smile slowly spread across his face, one she hadn't seen in a long time.
She almost cried. That someone who caused her so much pain, could bring her so much pleasure, just wasn't right.
“You know he wants this, right? We're like estranged parents that he's trying to get back together. It's all very sweet,” he told her. She laughed as well.
I felt played. I am not a man people do that to,” Jameson explained. “Clearly. I never even thought of trying.”
He had been jealous, angry, and upset. He had lashed out. He had been childish, petulant, and mean. He had been hurt. She had unknowingly hurt him.
think you wanted to hurt me. I think you planned it before you even left Boston. I think hurting my body was beginning to bore you – you wanted bigger game. You loved degrading me, now you wanted to do it in front of other people. I think it was fun for you, and I think you enjoyed
“I don't want to do this with you. Please. Let's just ... be friends for tonight. Okay? Just friends,” she stressed. “Tate, in a million years, you and I will never be 'just friends',”
She would win this game. Without thinking about what she was doing, Tate reached out and grabbed Jameson's head, roughly pulling him away from his conversation.
“Really. That was a pretty dirty game to play, baby girl,”
God, I am so fucked up. Ang is right, I should seek therapy.
“Goddamn Tatum. Always fucking pushing me,” he growled. “Stupid fucking Jameson, always where he isn't wanted,” she snapped back.
Jameson wasn't flirting in the kitchen with Pet. They were back in his bedroom. Only this time, he wasn't walking out on her. This time, he was holding his ground. He was talking to her. Fighting for her. The way it should have been.
Something was different. It was so different. She couldn't put her finger on it at first. Sex between them was always amazing, so the orgasm didn't shock her.
Temper tantrum. I thought bringing Pet home was some well thought out, elaborate plan to hurt me because he's a sadistic bastard. But he's really just a spoiled brat. A goddamn temper tantrum ...
should really work on that whole spoiled thing. Your temper tantrum nearly drove me insane,”
that it is one thing to want things my way,” he started in a soft voice, staring her very directly in the eyes. “But quite another to ignore the ways of everyone else. I hurt you, and I'm still finding it difficult to forgive myself. If you had died, Tate ..., there are no words. I would have been very sad. And not just because I had done something bad, I want you to know. I would have been sad because my world is a very lonely place without you.”
“Sometimes, I just need a good fucking to put me in my place,”
“I haven't slept with one single other woman since you.”
“What a stupid fucking question. Of course I think you're pretty. You're goddamned stunning, Tate. I think you're one of the sexiest fucking women I've ever met,” Jameson replied bluntly. She beamed at him.
“Hmmm, I think you were built for it.”
wanting her so bad that no one else even existed outside of her. He found himself thinking that he couldn't care less if he never fucked another woman again, as long as he could just be close to Tate. Just touch her whenever he wanted. If she said that, said she wanted monogamy between them, he thought he might actually say okay. For the first time ever in his life, he could almost picture it.
This is most definitely not a game anymore. This woman ... she owns me.
“Talk to him like that again and I will end your career,” Tate threatened. As always, she was fair game. Jameson was fair. Sanders was on a different plane from mere mortals, and if that bitch-snake so much as looked at him again, Tate would rearrange her features.
Houston, we're so far beyond having a problem that we're just completely fucked.
“If you ever come to my home again, I will get a restraining order. If you ever touch Sanders again, I will have you arrested. And if you ever hit her again, I will be the one who hits back. She is here to stay, she is part of my life. You are not. Get used to it.”
“I told you, you need real ones,” he repeated himself. “I don't 'need' real pearls, Jameson.” “No. But you deserve them.”
Tate kept trying to yell at him, but she was choking on sobs. Jameson's arms around her grew softer. Not restricting. Holding. She was aware that he was swaying lightly. Rocking her. She turned her head to the side, away from him, and just cried. For her lost heart. For her broken soul. For her weak spirit.
“It was only ever you,” Jameson whispered. “Two weeks ago, four months ago, seven years ago. This whole time. Always you.” She cried harder.
i love my baby
