Degradation (15 page)

After dinner, he led them back in to the library. The fire had already been going when she got there, but he kept building it higher, adding more logs. That was why she had opted to lay on the floor. The chairs were too hot.

“Sexy socks, Tate,” Jameson chuckled. She lifted her legs, pointing her feet at the ceiling. She was wearing a pair of purple-striped socks that went all the way to her knees. Her guilty pleasure in life. If she was stranded on a desert island, and could only have one thing, it would probably be a pair of knee length socks.

“Thank you, I think so,” she laughed, kicking her legs up and down before dropping them back to the floor.

“Are you drunk yet?” he asked. She shook her head and reached out a hand, running her fingers up and down the bottle of Jack Daniel's that was sitting near her.

“No. Do you want me to be drunk?”

“Could be interesting.”

“You're in a dark mood tonight. What's wrong?” she asked. Jameson chuckled.

“Am I ever in a light mood?” he responded. She nodded.

“Sure you are. Sometimes you're downright happy. I mean, you're always mean, and kind of a bastard, but at least you're happy about it,” she told him, and he burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, stop with the flattery,” he joked.

“So what's wrong?”

“Had a run in over the weekend. With an ..., ex, of sorts,” he said. Tate stilled her fingers. He was speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. Protecting her? Or hiding from her? She couldn't be sure.

“Bad kind of ex?” she asked.

“Is there any other kind?”

“Some people end on good notes, Jameson. It is possible to have an amicable break up,” she pointed out. He snorted.

“Bullshit. Do you have any good exes in your past?” he asked. She laughed.

“I'm not a very normal person. I told you about the one guy, we don't exactly speak anymore. Another guy cried when I ended it – which was weird, considering I hadn't even known we were dating. Funny how some people mistake sex for a relationship,” she replied.

“Now that's the truth.”

“So what happened? Big fight? Stalker? Oh my god, please tell me it wasn't Ellie!” she suddenly gasped, sitting upright. He had turned to face her, and his Satan's smile was in place.

“Wouldn't that have been hilarious. You know, it could be interesting. Maybe we should arrange a family reunion,” Jameson suggested. Tate narrowed her eyes.

“I don't think so. Look, if you don't wanna talk about your ex, fine, not a big deal to me, but you need to get in a better mood, or I'm gonna go find something else to do,” she informed him. His eyebrows raised up.

“Oh really. Ms. O'Shea, talking tough. You really want me to talk about her? Most women don't want to hear men talk about other women. Particularly women those men have slept with,” he pointed out.

“
I'm not most women. How many times are we going to have this conversation? Fine,
I'll
take the lead. Is she hot? Did she dump you, when it ended? Did you guys fight, this weekend? Did you get in one last closure-fuck? Did you fuck her this weekend?” Tate prattled off. He smiled, turning his head back towards the fire.

“See, this is why I keep you around. No bullshit; so straight forward. I just might consider being nice to you tonight,” he offered. She snorted.

“How boring.”

“
She's very hot. I guess you could say I dumped her. Yes, we argued this weekend. I can still fuck her whenever I want, so a '
closure-fuck
' wasn't necessary. I did not fuck her this weekend,” Jameson answered every question.

Tate had meant to be cheeky. Prove that she didn't mind. He could sleep with other people. But when he had said that he could still sleep with the woman whenever he wanted, something happened to Tate's insides. Fucking some random woman was one thing – sleeping with an ex, someone he'd had a relationship with, that was dangerous. It made Tate nervous. She hadn't expected to feel that way.

She suddenly felt very guilty about her weekend.

“Would you? If the opportunity presented itself?” Tate asked, laying back against the floor.

“Sounds like it would bother you if I did.”

“I don't really know. It might.”

“Why?”

Tate had to think about it for a minute or two.

“I might be a slut, but ..., okay, I'm most definitely a slut, and I like to sleep with guys, and have no qualms about who or when or where. But I am
not
a cheater. I never cheated on any of my boyfriends. I won't sleep with a guy if I know he has a girlfriend or wife. I will
not
be that girl. If you start sleeping with your ex, you might get back together with her. Or really, she might just think you're back together – women are stupid that way. And if that happens, I would immediately become the other woman. I won't do that,” she explained, ignoring her glass and dragging the bottle of Jack to her lips, taking a sip.

“You cheated on your boyfriend, with me, when I had a girlfriend, who also happened to be your sister,” Jameson reminded her. Tate chuckled, took another swig of whiskey.

“So you understand why I'm so scarred about the whole thing. I don't want to be that girl ever again. It was a stupid accident, and look what happened. No thank you,” she replied.

“It was probably the best thing that could have happened to me at that time, so I have the opposite view of it,” he laughed.

“Po-TATE-o, po-TOT-o.”

“Maybe. Maybe you're just too hard on yourself. I mean, yeah, every time I've ever slept with someone outside of a relationship, my girlfriends always knew. I made sure they knew – lying is ridiculous. If someone doesn't like it, they can get the fuck out. But you and I, we were young, dating the wrong people. It's not like either of us planned it. And we didn't even get a chance to hide it. We weren't trying to hurt anyone,” he pointed out. She nodded.

“True. Still. You asked. That's my answer. No, I probably wouldn't like it if you started sleeping with this ex girlfriend. But I'm also not gonna stop you,” she wrapped up their conversation.

“Well, thank you for that, Tate. I'll be sure to tell you before I start plowing my way through my little black book.”

Tate rubbed her lips together, staring at the ceiling. Now was definitely the time to say something. Part of her didn't want to upset him or make him mad. She drew her knees up and rubbed her thighs together. Another part of her
really
wanted to make him mad, and see what would happen.

“I slept with Ang.”

God, I just blurted it out. Like a slutty-goat. Jesus.

“Excuse me?”

She cleared her throat.

“I slept with Ang. Had sex with him,” she clarified.

“What, like this weekend?” Jameson asked. She winced.

“Yes. Saturday night,” she replied.

“So I can't sleep with my ex because I might get back together with her, but you can sleep with your best friend-slash-tripod?” he questioned, but there was laughter in his voice. He didn't sound angry.

“I'm horrible. I didn't want to, at first. But I was lonely, and I was thinking about you all weekend, and then he was right in front of me, and it just ..., happened.”

Three times.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me,” Jameson replied in a simple tone. She felt a little like throwing up.

“I wasn't sure what is and isn't allowed. Ang and I have known each other forever – sex is more like a pickup game of basketball to us. We just do it, for like sport. But then I kept thinking that maybe it wasn't okay. I didn't know if we were allowed to sleep with other people, or what exactly is going on here, and I ..., I felt kinda bad afterwards,” Tate told him. It was the truth. She'd spent most of Sunday working out rehearsed speeches to beg for his forgiveness. Jameson chuckled.

“
I don't care if you sleep with other people when I'm not around. We're the same animal, you and I, so I get it. But I gotta be honest, I have the same issue you have – you're a little too close to this Ang guy for my tastes. What if the same problem happens? I don't really care about being the other man, as long as I'm
the
man. Can't be that, if you go off and fall in love with your best friend. I'm not quite ready to stop playing with you yet,” he tried to explain. She laughed.

Oh, you are most definitely
the
man, Satan.

“That won't happen, trust me. But there we go – you can't sleep with ex girlfriends. I can't sleep with Ang. Deal?” she asked.

“If that makes you happy.”

There was a long pause after that, Tate drinking more from the bottle and Jameson just being quiet. She rubbed her legs together, lifted them back in to the air and did slow high kicks. She was pretty flexible, she could almost bring her knee to her chest. She let go of the bottle and laced her fingers behind her knee, gently pulling down. Just another inch, and -,

“Did you think about me?” Jameson's voice cut through the room.

“Excuse me?” she asked, letting go of her leg and propping herself up with her hands. He wasn't facing her, his eyes on the flames.

“While you were fucking Ang, did you think of me. You said you were lonely, that you had been thinking about me all weekend. When he was fucking you, were you thinking of me?” Jameson asked, finally turning to look at her.

Tate stared back, taking a deep breath. She didn't want to tell him, because the answer made her feel bad. Made her feel like a traitor. The other reason she had felt so bad all weekend. But he just kept staring at her, his eyes boring in to her soul.

“
Yes,
” she whispered. He smiled and leaned foward, over his arm rest.

“
So while this guy,
Angier
, was inside of you, you were imagining it was me, weren't you?” he asked her. Tortured her.

“Yes.”

Usually, Ang was so amazing, he was able to obliterate any other person from her mind. She could barely think straight, let alone think of another man. But Jameson had her all messed up. He'd gotten under her skin and was running rampant through her system. It wasn't a matter of one being better in bed than the other – they were both spectacular. But only one of them captured her mind.

And it wasn't her best friend.

“
Good
. New rule.
Anytime
you fuck someone else, you picture me. Understood?” Jameson demanded.

“I don't think that even needs to be a rule; it'll just happen on its own,” Tate laughed. He gave one more tight lipped smile and leaned back in his chair.

“Jesus christ, that we even need these kinds of rules, really says something about us,” he mumbled.

“I think they're a good idea,” she told him. He laughed, and it was an evil sound. It sent shivers down her spine.

“You would think that, Tate, because you're a
whore
,” he stated.

Ah, now we're getting somewhere.

“Maybe. But at least I'm a responsible one,” she teased.

“That's an oxymoron,” he told her.

“
You're
an oxymoron,” she taunted him, laughing.

“That makes no sense.”

“
You
make no sense.”

“Stop it, Tatum.

“
You
stop -,”

“Don't make me come over there. I'm not in a good mood,” Jameson warned her.

“Maybe if you come over here, I could cheer you up,” she offered.

“Maybe I don't want to cheer up. Maybe I want to be in a bad mood,” he countered. She rolled her eyes.

“You sound like a little kid who wants to bitch just to bitch,” she told him. His head snapped towards her.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I think you heard me,” she said with a smile. He stood up.

“
I think you want to get hurt,” he replied, moving to stand over her. She leaned back on her elbows, smiling up at him.

“I live to make you happy,” she told him, sighing melodramatically. He squatted down next to her.

“Are you ever scared of me?” he asked, his voice soft. Tate shook her head.

“No, not even a little,” she assured him.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe you should be,” he added.

“And why is that?”

“Because, I have the strangest feelings about you. Like I want to take you everywhere and have you by my side, but I also want to hold you down. Make you beg and cry,” he told her. She kept her eyes focused on his, didn't move a muscle.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” she whispered. He reached out and traced a finger down her leg, from the hem of her underwear to her knee, and then back up again. His eyes watched his finger.

“How did I find you?” It was obvious that he was thinking out loud.

“
That's pretty easy – you
made
me,” she responded. Jameson's eyes cut to hers, flashing blue in the shadowy room.