“I’m what?”
I need to hear her say it, even if she’s lying. My desperation for her terrifies me. I grab her hips and flip us over, me hovering over her, and she shrieks as I pound into her harder than ever before . My fingers dig into her full hips. I need her to feel me, feel all of me, and I need her to love the way I claim her. She’s mine and I’m hers. Her soft skin is glistening with sweat, and she looks absolutely delicious. Her breasts move rhythmically with my force, and her eyes roll back in her head.
“You’re the only one . . . Hardin . . . the only . . .” she says, and I watch her bite her lip, grab at her face, and then at mine. I watch her come completely undone beneath me . . . and it’s beautiful. The way she lets go of everything as she comes is too damn perfect. Her words are all I needed to find my own release, and she rakes her nails down my back. The sting is welcomed, I love the passion between us. I lean up, bringing her body with me, resting her on my lap so she can ride me again. My arms wrap around her back, and her head falls onto my shoulder as I lift my hips off of the bed. My cock moves in and out of her at a steady pace as I spill into the condom with a groan of her name.
I lie back with my arms still wrapped around her body, and she sighs when I run my fingers over her forehead, pushing her sweat-soaked hair from her face. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, comforting me.
“I love you,” I tell her and try to look at her, but she turns her head and touches a finger roughly to my lips.
“Shhh . . .”
“I can’t just shhh . . .” I roll her off and say softly, “We need to talk about this.”
“Sleep . . . up in three hours . . . Sleep . . .” she mumbles and wraps her arm around my waist.
Her holding me feels better than the sex we just had, and the idea of sleeping in the same bed as her thrills me, it has been too long. “Okay,” I say and kiss her forehead. She flinches slightly, but I know she’s too exhausted to fight me.
“I love you,” I tell her again, but when she doesn’t say anything else, I soothe myself by deciding she’s already fallen asleep.
Our relationship or whatever this is has done a complete turnaround in just one night. I have suddenly become everything I was terrified of being, and she has complete control of me. She could make me the happiest man on earth, or she could crush me with one word.
Chapter eighteen
TESSA
The song of my phone alarm breaks into my sleep like a dancing penguin. Literally, my dream-mind incorporates it as a dancing penguin.
But that pleasant fantasy doesn’t last long. I wake up a little more, and my head immediately begins to pound. When I try to sit up, I am weighed down by something . . . someone.
Oh no. Memories of dancing with some creepy guy flood my mind. Panicked, I snap my eyes open . . . to find instead the familiar tattooed skin of Hardin sprawled across me. He has his head on my stomach and an arm wrapped around me.
Oh my God. What the hell?!
I try to push Hardin off without waking him, but he groans and slowly opens his eyes. He closes them again and lifts himself off of me, untangling our legs. I jump off the bed, and when he opens his eyes again, he doesn’t say anything but just watches me like I’m some sort of predatory animal. The image of Hardin thrusting into me relentlessly and me calling out his name plays through my thoughts. What the hell was I thinking?
I want to say something, but, honestly, I have no idea what. I am freaking out inside, having a total meltdown. As if sensing my struggle, he climbs off the bed, taking the sheet with him and wrapping it around his naked body. Oh my God. He sits in the chair and looks up at me, and I realize I’m only wearing my bra. Instinctively, I squeeze my legs together and sit back on the bed.
“Say something,” he instructs.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” I admit. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe Hardin is here, in my bed, naked.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and his head falls into his hands.
My head is pounding from the excessive alcohol I consumed only hours ago and the fact that I slept with Hardin last night. “You should be,” I mutter.
He tugs at his hair. “You called me.”
“I didn’t tell you to come here,” I retort. I haven’t decided how to handle this. I haven’t decided if I want to fight with him, to kick him out, or to try to handle this like an adult.
I get up and head for the bathroom, his voice traveling with me as I do. “You were drunk and I thought you were in trouble or something, and Trevor was here.”
I turn on the shower and look into the mirror. On my neck is a deep red bruise. Freaking hell. As I run my fingers over the sensitive mark, my mind travels to Hardin’s tongue on my skin. I must still be a little intoxicated, because I can’t think straight. I thought I was moving on, and yet here is my heartbreaker in my room, and here I am with a massive hickey on my neck like some wild teenager.
“Tessa?” he says and enters the bathroom as I step into the hot water. I stay quiet as the scalding water rinses off my sins. “Are you—” His voice cracks. “Are you okay with what happened last night?”
Why is he acting so weird? I would’ve expected a cocky smirk and at least five “you’re welcome’s” the second his eyes opened.
“I . . . I don’t know. No, I’m not okay with it,” I tell him.
“Do you hate me . . . you know even more than before?”
The vulnerability laced through his voice tugs at my heart, but I need to stand my ground. Everything about this situation is a mess; I had just started to get over him. No you didn’t, my subconscious mocks, but I ignore her.