Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

BONUS CHAPTER 11

∆ Tate ∆

Tate could feel how tense Josh was the whole way home: every man they passed was given a hard glare, and he squeeze Tate's hand a little tighter each time. Fortunately, when they were safely inside her apartment building, he seemed to relax a little.

"Sorry," he remarked, shaking his head as they stepped into the elevator. "I'm not really like this."

"Like what?" Tate prompted. She ran her thumb gently over the back of Josh's hand, and he sighed.

"Like any of this," he admitted. "I'm not like—a jealous, insane guy. I play hockey, and I've never even thought about dropping the gloves with someone. Now, when it's about you, I just—"

"It's okay," Tate assured him, offering a smile. "I'm okay."

With another sigh, Josh brushed his knuckle against her cheek. When he smiled down at her, Tate felt her heart skip a beat. She was torn between hating and loving the grip that he had on her already—it wasn't one she'd felt in a long time, if she'd ever felt it at all.

They were quiet all the way down the hallway and into the apartment, where Tate flicked on the lights as Josh asked, "You live alone?"

"No," Tate chuckled. "I live with Frey—she's staying at Cole's tonight."

"Seems like they're pretty serious," Josh observed, removing his sport coat and hanging it over the back of the barstool closest to him.

Tate laughed gently. "Don't say that to Frey. She has a no dating athletes rule."

Josh nodded his understanding and then pressed his palms flat against the granite countertop. When he leaned forward a little, the gold chain around his neck slipped from beneath his shirt collar. There, his sleeves half-rolled and hair a little tousled, he was tempting Tate to climb over the counter and reach him.

But something told Tate that Josh wasn't the type for that. It couldn't have mattered less to her: she was just grateful he was there with her, watching her with admiration and adoration as she removed her coat. Once she'd set it down, he stood up and pushed his sleeves back a little further.

Then he surprised her, as he always seemed to do. "Come over here," he instructed, gesturing her from the other side of the counter.

Tate was quick to obey. She needed no invitation to get closer to him. Using a hand on Tate's hip to guide her, he moved her gently between his arms, which then caged her against the counter, facing him.

Josh leaned down closer, his eyes trained on Tate's lips. "Now am I allowed to kiss you?" he asked.

Tate's whole body buzzed at the closeness of his face to hers. She was desperate for him—in every sense of the word—but she wanted him to make the move he hadn't made when she left him after his game several days earlier. Coyly, she turned her head a little so that Josh's nose nearly touched her cheek before she murmured, "I don't know—maybe."

Josh's hand came off the counter to nudge Tate's chin back to center so that she was facing him fully again. And then he slipped it behind her neck, tightening his grip on her ever so slightly as he brought his lips down to hers.

Almost immediately, Tate lost sensation in her limbs. Before she knew it, she was clutching, tugging, at Josh's shirt, pulling him as close to her body as she could manage. When Josh slipped his tongue between her lips, a little moan escaped her, and Josh pulled away just to smile, his forehead pressed against hers.

"You're gonna drive me insane," he breathed, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

Tate didn't have the ability to form a verbal response, so she just released a little hum to indicate she had heard him. Her fingers found the buttons of Josh's shirt, fumbling to undo them as her hands trembled with desire. When she reached the last one, she moved her touch over his chest, admiring the ridges of his muscles against her skin.

She wanted more—needed more. Josh wrapped his fingers around the bottom of her thighs, lifting her up onto the granite counter as he brought his lips back to hers. When Tate reached for his belt, he paused, just long enough to brush her hair back from her shoulder and remark, "We don't have to go fast, you know."

Tate lifted her eyes to meet his, and the softness of his expression returned that gooey, icky feeling to her stomach. While it was true she wanted more of Josh physically, the realization was beginning to hit her that she wanted more of him beyond that, too. Nothing had ever scared her so much.

Idly, she fiddled with the collar of Josh's shirt, afraid to meet his gaze again. She mumbled, "I guess I just feel the need to rush everything with you."

Josh thumbed her bottom lip gently, leaning down to kiss her again. "Why do you feel like you have to rush it?" he asked, still close to her lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

It made Tate's stomach sink a little. "Yes you are," she stammered, hoping her voice didn't sound as broken as she thought. "You live in Ottawa, and I live here." She gestured around at the quiet apartment. "And all of it scares me."

Josh drew in a long breath and ran his hands up and down Tate's thighs. "I know," he replied in a soft tone. "It scares me a little, too." He looked her in the eye again, searching. "But I think it scares me because of what I feel for you. That's what's scary."

Tate blinked up at him and pressed, "What do you mean?"

His hands stayed on her, comforting and warm, even as he spoke. "I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed. "It's like—you got in that rental car in Tampa and suddenly all I cared about was making you feel safe. It's why I freaked out on that guy at the diner. I know you don't need protecting or anything like that, but you just—you do something to me."

Tate wasn't sure if she was ready to admit out loud that he did something to her, too. She settled for, "I don't want to think about this being the last time I see you. That's why I felt rushed."

"This isn't going to be the last time you see me," he promised—and the certainty in his cadence almost made Tate believe it. He prompted, "I want this. I want you."