“Oh, no. Ang was over, and we -,” she started to explain, as if it were an every day occurrence. Jameson turned towards her, his eyes wide.
“Angier was here? In my house?” he asked.
“Yeah, I invited him over one night. We were bored, I gave him a tour. Thought it would be funny for him to try on the jacket,” she explained. His eyes got wider.
“You let him wear my clothing?” Jameson sounded shocked. She had blown his mind. Jameson was very sensitive about his things.
“Yeah. It looked good on him, though he's a lot taller,” she said, looking down and picking at her nails. Jameson walked over to her, his movements slow and deliberate.
“You brought Angier to my house, let him wear my clothing, and then you proceeded to get high,” he laid everything out. She glanced at him and nodded before going back to her nails. She couldn't look at him for too long. His eyes were blazing, and it was always a look that set her skin on edge. Made her itch to be touched. Hurt.
“Yeah, in the sun room,” she finished.
“You smoked in my room,” his voice was soft. She had trouble hiding her smile.
“Well, not in in your room, we were -,” she started.
He grabbed her by the throat and she went onto her toes, her fingers flying to his hand. He stared down his nose at her, and he looked equal parts pissed-the-fuck-off and really turned on. It was an odd look, one that she had only ever seen on Jameson. A look that made her heart rate double.
“What's your game, baby girl? You knew all those things would make me very unhappy, so why did you do them?” he asked, his voice still soft. Tate sighed.
“We were having fun. Maybe, just maybe for ten minutes, I wasn't thinking about you, Jameson,” she replied. His fingers got tighter and he walked her backwards, out of the closet.
“Doubtful. Fun, huh. What else did you do?” he asked, backing her up to the side of the bed.
“Hard to remember. Gets a little fuzzy after the joint,” she replied. He stepped up so he was almost touching her.
“A little fuzzy, hmmm. Tatum, you're being far too obvious to have actually fucked him, so you can stop trying to make me jealous. I'm not jealous. I'm angry,” he growled through clenched teeth. She flicked her eyes to the bed, then back to him.
“You're so sure? You're positive?” she whispered. His gaze went to where she had just looked and then came back to hers. He cocked his head to the side.
“Positive enough. Why are you trying to make me mad? What has gotten into you?” he asked, and she managed to squeak out a laugh.
“I think the question should be who.”
He shoved her and she fell onto the mattress. She tried to scramble backwards, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back into place before he crawled on top of her. He straddled her thighs and sat back on his heels, working the buttons of his shirt open.
“I thought you'd at least give me a chance to relax when I first got home. That's not a short flight,” he told her. She snorted and wiggled around, trying to scoot out of the sweater she was wearing.
“It's been five days,” she reminded him. He let his shirt fall backwards to the ground and then peeled off his undershirt.
“Five days, huh,” he mumbled, leaning down close to chew on the side of her neck. “Guess that means you didn't fuck Angier.”
“Not for lack of trying,” she laughed. He believed it was a joke.
“Shut your fucking mouth, Tate. It's only good for one thing, anyway.”
“Thank you. I had a very good teacher.”
He propped himself up over her, stared at her for a moment. It was dark in the bedroom, but she could see light from the closet glinting off his eyes, giving him a cold, steely look. Not much different than usual. She had expected her comment to make him mad. She was wrong.
“If it upsets you that much that they're together,” he started, his voice quiet, “then just ask him to stop. He would, for you.”
Busted.
“I wasn't -,” she started to cover up when he pressed his hand down flat on her chest.
“Don't lie. All you do is lie anymore, baby girl. It gets tiring. You want to break them up – the question is, why are you trying to do it in a way you know would piss me off?” Jameson asked. Tate held her breath. Apparently she wasn't as unobvious as she liked to think.
“Would it really piss you off?” she asked back.
“If you fucked Angier in our bed? Yes, it would piss me off,” he assured her.
“So what, if I fuck him, you're gonna kick me out?” she pressed, her breathing getting fast. He chuckled.
“Tate, you can lie to yourself all you like – I have already accepted the fact that there is very little you could do to make me stop wanting you,” he told her, pressing down harder on her breast bone before dragging his hand down her body. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
Wanting. Not caring. Big difference, baby girl.
“Leaves me a lot of scope, Mr. Kane. I haven't slept with Ang in a long time, could be kind of fun,” she whispered.
“Only if you like seeing me mad,” he whispered back. She finally chuckled as well, squirming as he started undoing the button on her shorts.
“I love seeing you mad.”
“Tatum. You have never seen me really mad.”
Scary fucking thought.
His hand dived under her shorts then, and she forgot what they were talking about; his fingers always had the ability to make her forget everything. Scratching her, squeezing her, choking her, inside of her. Very talented, those fingers.
“Ooohhh, wow,” she breathed out, her shoulders lifting off the mattress.
“Tell me why you're trying to break them up,” Jameson demanded, pressing two fingers inside of her.
“Because,” Tate panted. “I'm angry at them.”
“Why? Why do you care who Angier fucks?”
“I don't care. I care that she's fucking him,” she replied, her head tossing from side to side as his fingers worked quicker.
“Why?”
“She stole my life away from me, my future. She doesn't get to steal my best friend, too,” Tate replied, a little surprised at herself for blurting it out so plainly. Those damn fingers. He stopped moving and she groaned.
“Seems to me the life you have now isn't so bad. Maybe she did you a favor,” he pointed out, dragging sticky wet fingers up her body. She managed a laugh.
“You would see it that way. I see it as more of a burden,” she teased him. Jameson glared, then pressed his two fingers into her mouth. She moaned, leaning her head forward to work her lips all the way to his knuckles.
“Fucking Tatum. Didn't I tell you? No more games,” he growled at her, pulling his hand away and then yanking her shorts down.
“Jameson, you and I have never stopped playing games,” she pointed out, hurrying to pull off her bra.
“Such a bitch.”
“You bring it out of me.
“Shut up.”
He yanked her legs up, hooking her knees over his shoulders. Her hands went into his hair. Once upon a time, he had treated going down on her like it was some monumental thing, some amazing gift he was bestowing upon her. It was pretty goddamn amazing, but he wasn't so stingy anymore.