“Because you turned eighteen yesterday, baby,” he says softly, “so I had to come and get my girl.” I jump into his hold just as he wraps his hands around my hips, lifting me in a swoop so that he can meet my lips with his. A light sound, somewhere between agony and relief, releases from my chest at the feel of him holding me again, and Tate replies with a deep protective growl. I grip my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair, as he holds me tight and kisses me sweet.
