~17~

Tatum leaned between the front seats of the Bentley, staring out the windshield. Why they had chosen to drive to Arizona was beyond her, and Jameson refused to fly back with her and leave Sanders to make the drive. So there they were, driving across the country. She reached out to fiddle with the GPS and Sanders slapped her hand away.

“Please stop. Last time you touched it, we wound up lost in Albuquerque for hours.”

“Honest mistake.”

They had stayed in Tucson for a week. She saw Nick every day. He wasn't exactly happy, but he wasn't exactly mourning her, either. She was glad. Even Jameson came down and shook his hand once. She hadn't even asked him to, he had just done it. When she asked him why, he explained that even though he was Satan, he could recognize and appreciate a gentleman when he saw one.

Ang was beyond excited when she said she was coming home, and he got even more hyped up when she informed him that she had made up with Jameson. She pointed out that there had been a time, not too long ago, when he had been trying to drive them apart. He pointed out that she never bothered listening to him, anyway, so why was she bothering now? Satan obviously made her happy, and Ang only ever wanted that for her.

They pulled into an underground parking garage for a Hilton hotel. She stretched across the back seat and made herself comfortable. They were all driving in shifts, in order to get back to Boston as quickly as possible. But Sanders refused to go a day without showering. He was renting a hotel room for a day, just so he could spend a couple hours showering and getting cleaned up.

“Sandy?” she called out. He twisted in the front seat.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Think of me, while you're up there,” she winked at him.

“Always.”

She didn't stop laughing till he was halfway across the garage.

Nobody had been happier than Sanders about Tate's change of heart. He had almost cried. That first night, she had fallen asleep halfway on top of Jameson, but she woke up in the middle of the night and snuck to Sanders' room. He needed an apology as well, so she spooned up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Whispered to him, promised him, that she would never leave him again. No matter what the future held for her and Jameson, she and Sanders were forever.

“You're my soulmate,” she whispered, and he had nodded, holding her hands.

“Yes.”

So even though the stop was unnecessary, and added several hours to their trip, she didn't give him too much trouble. Her departure had been hard on him, she could tell. Harder than he had let on, during their phone calls. She had a lot of ground to cover, trust to build. She sighed and propped her feet up against the passenger side door.

“Maybe the real reason you came back was for Sanders,” Jameson snorted from the front seat. Tate laughed.

“Maybe.”

“How long are you going to wear that thing for?” Jameson asked, turning around in the front seat and looking down at her.

“What, this?” she asked, pressing her hand to the necklace he had gotten her. The first time she had tried it on, the cheap clasp had broken. She'd had to tape it closed, and hadn't taken it off since. Made showering interesting.

“Yes. It's ugly,” he told her.

“I love it. I'm going to wear it on my wedding day,” she informed him. He barked out a laugh and turned forward.

“Good thing that's very, very, very far away. I pity the groom, whoever he may be,” he grumbled.

“Shut up!” She pushed herself up enough to slap him across the back of the head.

“Keeping pushing me, baby girl. See what happens,” he growled, rubbing the back of his head while she laid back down.

She moved her leg and pushed the back of his head with her foot.

“Push,” she laughed. He batted at her foot.

“I am not above fucking you in a garage.”

“Promises, promises,” she sang, and pushed him in the head again.

“I'm serious, Tate. I'm still mad at you, for this whole little escapade. I haven't even begun to get back at you for your little fling,” he warned her.

“Ooohhh, 'get back at me', he says. Game?” she asked, and pushed his head again.

“No, no games. Stop it,” he growled. She went to push him again and his hand grabbed her ankle.

“Make me,” she pursed her lips at him, blowing a kiss. He sighed and let go of her leg. Began pulling off his jacket.

“I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a small man,” he told her. She laughed, stretching her legs back out.

“Yes, I have noticed,” she replied. He lifted his hips and undid his pants.

“I have to fold myself into a piece of origami to fuck you in these cars,” he complained, clumsily crawling between the two front seats and falling on top of her.

“Get bigger cars,” she suggested, then choked on her words when his fingers ended up between her legs.

“Are you telling me what to do, Tate?” he asked, roughly yanking her legs around, rearranging her so he was kneeling between them.

“I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Kane,” she breathed

“I like that, you know. Mr. Kane. Makes me feel like you've finally learned your place. Say it again,” he ordered.

“Fuck me, Mr. Kane,” she begged, biting back a laugh.

“And why should I do that? You have been a very, very bad girl,” he told her, pulling her shorts away from her hips.

“Then you should fuck me very, very hard,” she suggested. He leaned foward, pressing his weight against her.

“Hmm, still sounds like you're getting rewarded. I was thinking more along the lines of a punishment,” he whispered.

“Whichever, whatever, just get on with it,” she growled, wiggling her hips around underneath him.

“Commanding me?” he asked, pushing himself up so he hovered over her.

“Begging you,” she whispered. He smiled, then moved his hand across her forehead, brushing hair away.

“I like that, too. Maybe do that some more,” he suggested. She laughed.

“You're only allowed so much begging. You've reached your quota for the week,” she joked, but his hand moved into her hair and pulled sharply.

“I tell you what you're allowed to do, not vice versa. Now fucking beg,” he snapped at her.

“Please, Jameson. Please, I'm begging you. Please, do whatever you want to me. Do anything. Do everything,” she begged in a sexy, breathy voice.

“God, that sounds good. You're so good at that,” he said with a groan.

“Really? I thought I was getting better at it,” she agreed in a serious voice that cut the mood. Jameson laughed and playfully slapped her on the cheek. A mockery. An inside joke. A promise.

“You could stand to get better.”

“Only for you, Jameson.”

“Only for me.”

“I do love you, you know,” she said softly. He nodded.

“I know, baby girl. I know,” he assured her.

“That doesn't scare you?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip. He still had the ability to make her so nervous. She figured she should just get used to it – she wasn't going anywhere.

“No,” he shook his head. “That doesn't scare me at all, not anymore.”

“What changed?” she asked, looking away from his soul-stealing stare and smoothing her hands across his chest.

“The game. You, me. Everything,” he told her. She cleared her throat.

“Jameson,” she started, then lost her nerve. She had been working up the courage to ask him something since their first night back together.

“Hmmm?” he replied, one of his fingers tracing along her bottom lip.

“What does the necklace mean, to you?” she squeaked out, feeling all of two inches tall.

“Excuse me?”

“The necklace. I mean, I know what it means. To me, I mean. But what does it mean, you know, to you,” she stammered.

“I'm not even sure what you just said, let alone what you're asking me,” he teased her. She rolled her eyes.

“It's okay, you know. You said you were willing to try, and that's all I'm asking for. I promise, this time. I really promise. It's more than I could have hoped for, really. We're together, and you don't need to -,” she babbled.

“Tatum. Are you asking me if I'm in love with you?” he asked, his voice serious. She swallowed thickly, staring at the collar of his shirt like it was hypnotizing her.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

“Don't be fucking stupid,” he snapped. She finally looked up at him, snorting.

“You're fucking stupid! I'm trying to be nice and tell you it's okay that you don't, that you don't have to feel bad, and you're such a dick, you always have to -,” she started telling him off, trying to wiggle out from underneath him. He put his hand over her mouth.

“Tatum.”

She blinked her eyes up at him.

“Hmmfff?” she mumbled.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Ho hmuck hurr helf,” she tried to swear through his palm.

“I have loved you since you were eighteen, you idiot.”

Her eyeballs nearly fell out of her head.

“Hreary!?”

“I can't understand what you're saying.”

She slapped at his chest. By the time he moved his hand, she had started crying.

“You're shitting me,” she sniffled.

“I never lie, Tatum,” he assured her. She pressed her hands against her face.

“You can't. You haven't ..., everything. So much time. Why didn't you say anything?” she cried. He pulled at her wrists.

“Because I didn't know,” he replied.

“How could you not know something like that!?” she demanded.

“Hey, look who's talking. You've probably been in love with me for even longer, and you still don't realize it,” he pointed out, finally peeling a hand away. She kept her eyes shut tight.

“God, sometimes I hate you,” she cried. He laughed.

“I finally say the words, and this is the response I get,” he chuckled, pulling at her other hand.

“Well you can't just spring it on me like this!” she yelled at him, finally looking up at him. He looked down at her like she was nuts.

“You asked me, you crazy bitch,” he laughed.

“Well, I didn't expect that answer, you crazy bitch!” she yelled back.

“Would you like me to take it back?” he offered.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and yanked him close. She needed him to breathe. To exist. So much. She struggled with him, wrestled around till she was able to roll him underneath her, then she straddled his hips, pulling him to sit upright with her.

“I never want you take it back,” she whispered, pulling her shirt over her head.

“Good. Because I'm not in the habit of taking things back,” he replied, unbuttoning his own shirt and tossing it into the front seat.

“I want you to say it again,” she breathed, leaning forward and kissing his jaw. His ear. His shoulder.

“Hmmm, can't have you getting accustomed to such things. You have to work for praise, baby girl,” he teased.

“Please,” she pleaded.

“Begging again. I'm on a roll today.”

“Please.”

“I don't know. I am Satan. Saying those sweet words actually burns me,” he warned her. She shook her head.

“You love to burn. You've already burned me. Do it again,” she whispered. He pushed her away. Smoothed his hands over her hair, then rested them against the sides of her neck. Looked at her. Really looked at her.

“Tatum O'Shea, there is a very distinct possibility that I have been in love with you since the first time I saw you,” he told her, his voice quiet. She laughed, wiped at her nose, and then laughed again.

“God, how awkward for Ellie. Better leave that out of the wedding vows,” she joked. He groaned.

“Jesus. I'm just getting used to the L-word, don't go throwing around the M-word,” he warned her. She leaned close, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue.

“Hmmm, I think when you say “M-word', we both have two very different words in mind,” she whispered huskily, siding her hand down his chest.

“I'm thinking the marriage-word. What the fuck are you thinking?” he demanded.

“Menage.”

He burst out laughing.

“Fuck, Tatum, I think I will marry you.”

“You're so easy.”

“Not as easy as you.”

“No, probably not.”

“Tatum?”

“Hmmm?”

“Will you please shut the fuck up now?” he groaned. She thought about it for a second.

“Maybe. If you say it just one more time,” she told him. He growled, and suddenly her panties were ripped away.

“Prove to me how bad you can be, then maybe I'll say it again,” he snapped. She sighed, scratching her nails down his arms.

“Anything for you, Satan.”

“Good answer.”