Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy 1)

“Look at me, Sutton.”

She raised her head to stare into his eyes and caught her breath. He was giving her himself without fear or misgivings. It was openly mind-blowing feeling that he trusted her, without fear that she would throw it back in his face. He didn’t ask for her to show it back or tell him how she felt in return; he was just showing her how he felt.

He gave her the power in the relationship to make her own decisions. His jealousy might have driven him to tinker with her car and butt into her meeting with Liam, but for a Porter, used to having his own way and knocking any obstacle out of his path instead of going around it, he had showed remarkable restraint.

“I love you.” She let go of the hatred she had felt for herself for not protecting Valentine better, for not being strong enough to get away from Scott, for being the weak, useless victim he had made her believe she was.

Her struggle and suicide attempts hadn’t been because of Scott, but because she wasn’t able to forgive herself. All the group members at her support meetings, friends at work, and her therapist had told her it wasn’t her fault; she hadn’t believed them until now, as Tate showed her what real love was.

Evil intentions masquerading as caring cannot be recognized when good has never seen evil before. Scott had been her first brush with evil, and God willing, she would never see it again. If she did, she prayed she would be able to fight it better than she had the first time.

“I love you,” Tate repeated her words without hesitation.

She undid his belt then unsnapped his jeans. “Make love to me.”

Tate helped her shimmy out of her underwear before pressing her down onto the bench seat of his truck.

“I want you to know that I never fucked Cheryl without a condom, ever. Her having the clap was a rumor Jared started when she divorced him.”

“I didn’t ask, because I knew you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” Her lack of trust in Tate had been what had destroyed her life, and she would never make that mistake again.

“You’re so beautiful. It hurts my dick to look at you. Even after I fuck you, I can’t breathe because I want you again.”

“Me, too … I thought I could never enjoy sex, and now I can’t get enough of you. No one ever made me feel the way you do or ever will.” She smoothed his plaid shirt off his shoulders that gleamed in the moonlight.

He made her feel soft and feminine.

Sutton shuddered as he unzipped her dress, sliding it off in the tight confines of the truck. She wanted to make love to him until the only woman he could remember being in his arms was her.

She had learned his sweet spots. His neck was sensitive, which she now delicately licked the side of, gently biting down and marking him as hers. Any woman in town who tried to take Tate from her would find she wouldn’t stand around and let them take him from her again. She would fight tooth and claw to keep what was hers, and Tate was hers.

Tate rose up over her, sliding his dick into her, his hand going to the door over her head to brace himself to not smother her with his weight.

“Careful. I don’t want to fall,” Sutton warned as he began to thrust into her.

He buried his face in her neck. “If we fall, we’ll do it together. Nothing can hurt us again.” He took her hand, lifting it to his mouth, tracing the scarred flesh of her wrist with his lips. “Together, Sutton.”

“Together.” She wiggled under him, driving him deeper inside of her until she didn’t know where he ended and she began, melding them together as one.

He groaned as he climaxed, and watching his face and the expression of pure pleasure drove her to find her own orgasm. They then lay on the bench seat, enjoying holding each other.

Both of them jumped when a sharp rap on the window startled them. Tate reached down, handing her the dress that had fallen to the floorboard. He rose up enough for her to cover herself before straightening to roll down the window.

Sutton wanted to die of embarrassment when she saw the sheriff staring into the dark cab.

“A little too old to be making out at Lookout Point, aren’t you, Tate?” Knox didn’t make an attempt to hide his amusement.

Tate unconcernedly zipped himself back into his jeans. “I’ve seen some of those parties you and The Last Riders throw at the lake. At least I made sure no one was around.”

The huge sheriff’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Really? Then how did I sneak up on you without you noticing?”