âOh, itâs good,â she says as her eyes roll back.
I have fucked this girl so many times now and sheâs still basically clueless about all things sex, except giving me head. Sheâs great at that.
I move her hips again in an attempt to find that spot, the spot that will have her screaming my name in seconds. I love the way she looks when she rolls her hips; the shape of them is beyond fucking perfect. Her nails dig into my bare chest, and I know that Iâve found the spot. She covers her mouth with her hand and bites down on her palm to quiet herself as I lift my hips to meet her movements, to thrust faster in and out of her.
âIâm going to make you come this way,â I breathe.
Sheâs too perfect. Her eyes screw closed and her movements grow slower.
âYouâre going to come now, arenât you? Youâre going to come for me, baby?â
âHardin . . .â She moans my name, and itâs the perfect answer.
âHoly shit.â I canât help but curse as her back arches and her blue-gray eyes close again. The fingernails on the hand she isnât using to cover her mouth dig into my chest, and I feel her tighten around me. Fuck, she feels so good. I change the pace and move slower, but Iâm sure to hit as deep inside of her as I can with each thrust of my hips.
I know how much she loves hearing my voice while I fuck her, and she screams into her hand when I let out an âOh Godâ and spill into the condom.
âHardin . . .â she whines and lays her head on my chest in a panting mess.
âBaby,â I say, and she looks up at me with a sleepy smile.
I match my breathing to hers and run my fingers through the mess of blond hair sprawled across my chest. Iâm still pissed at her, and at Zed, but I love her and Iâm trying to prove to her that Iâm changing for her. I canât deny that our communication is one thousand times better than it used to be.
Sheâs going to be pissed at me at least one more time because of Zed, but he needs to know that sheâs mine and that if he fucking touches her again, heâs dead.
Chapter one hundred and fifteen
TESSA
I lie on top of Hardinâs chest to catch my breath. Both of our bare chests are moving slowly up and down in our postcoital bliss. It doesnât feel as foreign as I had believed it would, not at all. I was desperately missing being intimate with him; I know that making love so soon, before anything has been determined, may not have been the best idea, but right now, as his fingers trail up and down my spine, it sure feels like it.
I canât stop picturing the way his body looked underneath mine as he lifted his hips off the mattress to fill me completely. Weâve slept together many times, but this time goes down as one of the best. It was so intense and sincere and full of wantâno, needâfor each other.
Hardinâs temper got the best of him only a short while ago, but as I stare up at him his eyes are closed and his lips are slightly upturned.
âI know youâre staring at me, and I have to take a piss,â he finally says, and I canât help but giggle. âUp you go.â He lifts my body at my hips to lay me beside him.
Hardinâs hands run through his hair and he pushes the loose fringe back to bare his forehead while he retrieves his clothing from the floor. He remains shirtless and disappears from the room, leaving me to get myself dressed. My eyes dart to his worn T-shirt on the floor, and out of habit I bend down to pick it up but then drop it again. I donât want to push things or make him angry, so I should just stick to my own clothing for now.
Itâs nearly eight, so I go ahead and pull on a pair of loose sweats and a plain T-shirt. The wreckage from Hardinâs outburst covers the floor, so I take it upon myself to begin putting everything back in its place; the clothes from my drawers are my first task. Hardin enters the room as Iâm zipping my suitcase full of novels.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks. He holds a glass of water and a muffin in one of his large hands.
âJust straightening up,â I say quietly.
Iâm slightly nervous that weâll slide back into fighting again, so Iâm unsure of how to behave. âOkay . . .â he says, placing the glass and snack on the dresser before walking over to me.
âIâll help,â he offers and picks up the broken chair from the floor. We work in silence to get the room back to its normal state. Hardin grabs the suitcase and walks toward the closet with it, nearly tripping over a decorative pillow from the bed.
I donât know if I should speak first and Iâm not sure what to say; I know heâs still angry, but I keep catching his eyes on me, so he must not be too angry.
He steps out from the closet holding a small bag and a medium-sized box. âWhatâs this?â
Oh no. âNothing.â I hurry to my feet in an attempt to take the items from him.
âAre these for me?â he asks with a curious expression.
Chapter one hundred and sixteen
HARDIN
No,â she lies and stands up on her toes to try to reach for the box in my left hand. I lift it higher.
âThe tag right here says my name,â I point out, and she looks down.
Why is she so embarrassed?
âI just . . . well, I got you a few things before, but now they seem so silly; you donât have to open them.â
âI want to,â I tell her and sit down on the edge of the bed. I really shouldnât have broken that hideous chair.
She sighs and keeps her position on the other side of the room as I pull at the taped edges of wrapping paper. Iâm slightly irritated by the amount of tape she used for this one box, but Iâll admit Iâm a little . . .