"SHE LEFT ME."

Art looks entirely bewildered -- destroyed. But one look at him in distress wasn't going to cause Tatum to crumble. Not anymore.

"So what, you want me to be your rebound fuck?" She asks with a hint of a snort, taking a step outside of the room and quietly closing the door behind her.

He shakes his head but he doesn't scoff the way Tatum expects me to. "Six months ago."

Oh.

"I lost a match and she apparently didn't like that very much." He says, giving an unfunny smile. His knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists tight.

Tatum was wondering, he knew that. But given the state he was in, she would never ask. He knew that too.

She bites the inside of her cheek, her toes tapping gently against the carpeted floor as the two look over one another.

"I regret all of it." He says, finally letting out a breathe — appearing as though the five words were a confession he'd been holding onto all these years.

Meeting his gaze, Tatum analyzes him. She doesn't know what to think of him right now — but the possibilities of what they could have been haunted her every morning when she woke up since the day she left and as for Art — oh, Art.

Art was twice as much of a wreck as Tatum. That summer, at first, he didn't allow himself to love Tashi. Not when Tatum was gone. But when school started back up again, he tried.

He made one stupid mistake to try. He tried loving Tashi because he thought it was genuine. After all, isn't that what he wanted in the first place?

Art was his own worst enemy. The only one he ever seemed to lose to because no matter what, regardless of any stupid tennis match, Tatum would have gotten away and he would still be sleeping in bed next to the woman he vowed to love. But didn't.

And Tashi didn't love him either — he knew that. But maybe he just liked the idea that she did because then, it wouldn't have all been for nothing.

And maybe just for one night — one stupid night — Tatum will try.

She'll kiss Art and let him into her hotel room and they'll make love and it won't matter that any time has passed.

She can live in a fantasy for one night and she won't worry about the empty bed she'll wake up to in the morning because it won't matter.

She and Art won't ever see each other again, right?

He's moved on. He has a kid.

She's moved on. She has nothing.

So, with two gentle hands she cusps onto Art's shirt and reaches up to kiss him.

And it's everything she's missed.

His lips are soft against hers and they mold against them like they were made for one another. And when his big hand finds the back of her head — brushing against that spot below her hair that always sends a chill down her spine — she feels eighteen again.

They're moving together as one — so passionate and rough yet so gentle and loving.

Their bodies speak for themselves and they let their minds go blank. Because to them, all that matters right now, is this kiss. This feeling that's palpating Tatum's heart and harmonizing with the sound of Art's and she can feel it with the way he hums against her lips.

They share the same motive for once and quickly, within a matter of seconds, Art's hands are on her ass — ridding her of the ache in her toes from standing so high up on them — and he pushes her up onto him, her legs straddling either side of his waist as he brings the two of them inside.

They're kissing carelessly in the dark — so fixated on one another to care about anything else in this hotel room except getting on that bed.

And when they do, Art doesn't bother being quiet when pressing Tatum's arched back against the door — slamming it shut.

He swiftly turns the lock and it really is like they're back in high school or college. Always sneaking around in one another's dorms but never really caring if someone else hears.

Tatum's hips begin grinding against Art's, desperately needing him. And she can tell he needs it too because when she does, his sloppy yet passionate kisses come to a halt and he groans quietly into her mouth.

He's pulling her shirt up above her head and her hands run through his hair — reaching for a grasp of stability. It makes her miss those curls of his — makes her wonder why he got rid of them in the first place.

But although Tatum didn't refute to her shirt being pulled off of her, Art still asks. With wet lips and hair messed. "You sure this is okay?"

Tatum nods, biting her lip and already missing the feel of his lips and the friction of what's beneath his sweatpants. "Is this okay with you?"

He doesn't bother giving confirmation, just squeezes the small of skin just below her ass — teasing her as he scoops her up and carries her over to where the bed is in the dark of her room.

He drops her down onto it and swiftly takes his grey t-shirt off, tossing it onto the floor somewhere to the left of the bed.

Tatum has herself propped up onto her elbows, in only a bra and panties that stayed hidden under her shirt.

And God, Tatum had barely aged a day.

She still had that tattoo on her ribs and another just above her bikini line — kept the same scars on her shoulders that Art used to kiss every single morning.

And if the way he's looking at her now is any indication of how the night was going to play out, Tatum knew she would be in for it.

He begins kissing the small of her ankle and creates a trail up her leg with a soft kiss, his cold finger following along on her opposite leg. He pauses at the tattoo hidden behind her knee. "This one wasn't here before." He says, looking up at her as he kisses deep into it. "Where is it from?"

Tatum watches as his tongue glides against it, trying to talk despite her breath being caught in her throat. "Senior Year."

Of college, she doesn't say. Nor does she have to. Art knew every inch of her body, every crease and crevice of that sweet as sugar skin.

He hums, slowly making his way up her thigh and then stopping against that same bouquet of flowers she has tattooed on her ribcage. Except now, it has more flowers than before.

He'd ask her why and she'd respond.

He'd get closer and closer to the hardened nipples showing past her sports bra -- giving him just a hint at how he was making her feel. And if the erection Tatum could see just barely in those blue sweatpants was any indication of how good he was feeling -- she knew it had to have been pretty damn good.

But he never takes her bra off -- nor does he pay any attention to her breasts. He just reroutes and begins kissing down her stomach once more, this time slower. Like he wants to savor every goddamn moment he has with her.

His hand meets where his mouth is about to touch -- her panties. His cold finger dips below the side of it, as if to slide them off. But instead, he just watches himself wrap the string of her lace panties around his finger.

But when he peeks just the slightest -- he notices another hidden tattoo. This one, with the letter D initialed into her skin.

"What's this?" He asks, more curious than anything as he leans back down -- tongue outlining the ink of the letter.

But she's hesitant to answer -- Tatum hadn't liked much of her past. Especially that of her time with Daniel.

Art's kisses move closer and closer to that wet spot between her legs as he awaits her answer.

"Nothing important." She says with a smile hidden behind her bitten lip.

He pulls away from her now, readjusting his position between her spread legs and he kicks his sweatpants off, revealing his gray boxers with his hard cock barely fitting inside.

Tatum swallows, the realness of it all hitting her. He's standing over her like an animal staring at it's prey and the feeling of ecstasy within her was something she wanted to get high off of every day.

His hands find either side of her hips and pull her to the edge of the bed, closer to him as he gets onto his knees.

The cold tips of his fingers find the smooth skin by her underwear and in just a few brief seconds, he slides her panties down her legs and leaves them around her ankles for just a minute.

His eyes fall back on the D tattooed onto her and then back on her eyes as he begins kissing it once again. "Where's this one from?"

There's a different look in Art's eyes now — being so close to her bare pussy — a certain hunger.

And his kisses trail closer and closer to that sweet spot, distracting Tatum more and more from answering.

And the sound of Tatum's heartbeat pounding in her ears only builds up and her heart swells with anticipation as he almost reaches the spot he knows she loves most.

And he's about to, but he doesn't.

Instead, he looks back up at her with raised brows — awaiting an answer.

He wasn't going to pressure her, but he truly was curious.

"Why'd you stop?" She cries, the closest thing to a moan Art had heard at this point.

He smiles, hand caressing her knee. "I asked you a question."

She bites down on her lip, contemplating for a brief moment before reminding herself — this is a one time thing. He'll be gone in the morning and after tomorrow, you'll never have to see him again.

"An ex-boyfriend." She says, her eyelashes batting at him as he looks in amusement. "We got drunk and got matching tattoos."

He mimics her coy smile. "Wow, that was an option?"

She rolls her eyes playfully back at him before ultimately grabbing his neck and pulling him right into her — his lips slammed against hers, his hidden hard cock pressed up against her bare pussy and her tits pushed into his chest.

But Tatum, in all honesty, was tired of kissing. And there was an ongoing ache between her legs.

"Can you please just fuck me already?" She says with her breath hovering over his lips.

In which, he smiles.

BLAKELY SPEAKS !
"we were robbed" shut up i just gave you 2k words.