Page 14 of Tate: Gemini King
“Yup. I guess I might be.”
“Don’t you even feel bad?” she asks. Natasha tucks some of her pretty ass hair behind her ear, revealing a beautiful dark brown jawline and a gorgeous pair of earrings dangling from her ear, hitting her face in just the right way. I appreciate a woman with good tastes.
Even in the simplest outfits, Natasha looks so fucking sexy.
“What should I feel bad for?” I ask her, although deep down I know I should feel bad for all the thoughts running through my head of the dirty things I could do to Natasha. I would bend her over this table right now if I could.
“Maybe being an asshole?” Natasha suggests, shaking her head, but smiling a little bit, like she’s flirting with me.
“Not particularly sorry about that,” I respond, turning over in my head how I’m going to get Natasha into my bedroom. Or hers. I’m not picky.
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that?”
“I’m wondering if you might be a sociopath,” Natasha says calmly.
I laugh. “What’s a sociopath?”
“How can you not know what that is?” she snaps. “Very suspicious.”
“You mean a psycho killer like Ted Bundy or some shit?”
“No. I mean someone with no empathy.”
“I have feelings, Natasha. Just because I don’t spend all my time yapping about them doesn’t mean those feelings don’t exist.”
“Yapping?” Natasha replies defensively. “Since when do I yap? You asked me a question. I would have never brought up this sappy emotional stuff to the person I’m planning to–
She trails off.
“Planning to what?”
“Never mind,” Natasha says suspiciously. “I’m too drunk. Way too drunk. I need help getting up. And getting the fuck out of here.”
I didn’t expect to get this lucky. I freeze, entirely taken aback by Natasha’s request. Was this wine extra strength somehow? She stares at me with wide brown eyes that are totally innocent.
“Are you sure you know what you’re asking?”
I don’t know why I stop myself. It’s exactly what I want – Natasha handing her perfect body over to me. She makes a kissing noise with her teeth and rolls her eyes at me again. I’m starting to get turned on by the way she rolls her eyes.
“You’re a fireman, Tate. You’re not a criminal. Just a pain in my fucking ass.”
Ouch. Whatever. I can’t let her get to me. All of this anger from Natasha is just sexual tension that she’s too afraid to break. I can take that anger and help her out. If only she would let me.
“What if I’m not ready to carry you to bed yet?” I ask her, my voice slow and tense. I never know how this woman will react to me and I love the anticipation.
She doesn’t hear the undertones in my voice, or if she does, Natasha ignores them. She adjusts her thighs and leans back in her chair, looking closely at me. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“Why? You want to talk about more of those feelings you allegedly have out here?”
I don’t like the grin on her face. Natasha is a smart woman and she can tell that she just pushed up against something uncomfortable. It’s my fault for pushing her about her past.
“Not particularly.”
She grins. “That makes me want to ask you questions. You’re right, Tate. I’m not ready for bed. I’m drunk enough that I actually want to talk to your stupid ass.”
But she will be. I have to believe that. I want it so fucking badly that it has to be true. I keep staring at her and have another sip of wine. The windows are pitch black and the sills covered in so much thick snow that there must be whiteout conditions out there.