“You’re gonna find special, Ace.”…“Sometimes special doesn’t exist, Tate,” I told him. “And I’m okay with that.”His lips came back to mine and when he spoke, he did it gently. “It will for you baby.”

“Two of us in this room, Ace, two keycards," he said and my eyes went to him. When they did, he jerked his hand, finger extended to the door. "Know what this is?" "A door?" I asked stupidly. "A peephole," he bit back then moved his hand to flick the security latch closed. "Know what that is?" "Captain -" He advanced and the aggressive way he did it made me retreat. It was dawning on me he was pissed and he wasn't pissed at Brad (that's her ex). He was pissed at me. I stopped when my legs hit the chair to the desk. He stopped when he was in my space. I tilted my head way back to look at him. "You got great hair, babe." "Tate -" "Thick." "Tate -" "Soft." "Tate," I whispered. "Shame it gets hacked off with a knife after some guy rapes you with that knife!" He finished on a roar. My body jolted. "Tate!" "There's bad guys out there, Ace. Bad. Do things to you that'll make you glad you end up dead. You don't open a goddamned door not knowin' who's behind it." "I thought it was you." "Well it wasn't." "Tate -”

“Kiss me, Tate,” I demanded softly. “Baby -“I lifted my head and put my lips to his, encouraging on a whisper, “I wanna catch fire, honey, and only you can bring that out for me.”I watched up close as Tate’s eyes went intense then his head slanted and he muttered, “You got it, Ace.”Then he kissed me.”

“She doesn’t look like a Buster,” I declared, “more like a Princess Fancy Pants.”Tate was bent and pulling a skilled out of a cupboard. His head tipped back and his eyes locked on mine.“You call my cat Princess Fancy Pants, Ace, we got problems.”

“I’m gonna take care of you,” Sam whispered against my lips. “Okay,” I whispered back.”

“The first time I met you, you told me you grew up here, I’d call you a liar,” Tate informed me.I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Really?”“Really.”“Why?”“High-class,” he replied.“Sorry?”“You looked high-class,” he semi-repeated.“I’m not,” I stated.“No, Ace, you’re not. You’re a different kind of class.”“Farmer class.”“Pure class.”

“I see it Kia, and I get this is gonna take effort. But what I’m sensin’ is, you don’t notice I’m makin’ that effort. Don’t fuck up, baby, and, out of habit, reinforce your shields to hold back a threat that doesn’t exist. You get me?”