Had she done something he didn’t like? Did he think that she was a wild woman? A slut? Oh, God, did he think he was kissing Kari and suddenly realized that it was her?
Tate shoved her hands into her hair and looked up him, dreading the expression of cool disdain she knew she’d see.
Linc, however, looked calm and in control and not at all like he’d just tried to inhale her. Where did all that passion go? What had he done with all that hot, unbridled desire? Tate looked down and saw that he was no longer rock hard... That’s an amazing amount of control, Ballantyne.
It pissed her off.
Tate opened her mouth to utter a very snarky comment, but he spoke first. “Ellie is crying.”
Tate blinked, trying to make sense of his words. Who? What? Where?
“The baby is crying, Tate. You need to go to her.”
Through the monitor on the dining table Tate heard Ellie’s soft wail, heard the desolation in her muffled cry, and she snapped back to the here and now. Oh, God, the poor thing sounded like her heart was breaking. How long had she been crying? Minutes? An hour? Longer? How long had she and Linc kissed? She couldn’t tell, she’d lost all sense of time, and of reality.
Oh, my God... She almost lost her freaking mind. She’d been a heartbeat away from asking her sister’s ex to do her on the kitchen counter!
What must he think?
And more important, what must Ellie think? Did she think that Tate had abandoned her just like her mother? Not wanting to make the little girl wait another minute, Tate whirled away from Linc and sprinted for the stairs.
Yes, she was desperate to get to Ellie, but honesty made her admit that she was equally desperate to get away from Linc. She had absolutely no control of herself around him, and she thanked God for Ellie’s interruption. And for his keen ears because she hadn’t heard a damn thing.
She’d been deaf, dumb, blind with lust for him...
It was a very good thing, Tate thought as she sprinted up the stairs, that she was leaving tomorrow.
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