“Oh, Hardin,” I moan and squeeze him with my legs. I bring my hands down his back and graze my nails against his skin. I might explode just from him kissing my neck alone.
“I want to make you moan my name, Tessa, over and over again. Please let me?” His voice is full of desperation.
And I know deep inside there’s no way I can say no.
“Say it, Tessa.” He takes my earlobe between his teeth. I nod again, harder. “I need you to say it, baby, out loud so I know you really want me to.” His hand travels down and under his T-shirt that I am wearing.
“I want to . . .” I rush the words, and he smiles against my neck, his mouth continuing its gentle assault. He doesn’t say anything and instead grabs my thighs, lifting me higher onto his torso as he begins to walk out of the water. When he reaches the bank, he lets me go and climbs out. I whine, certainly inflaming his ego even more—but right now I don’t care. All I know is that I want him, I need him. He reaches out for my hands and pulls me up onto the bank with him.
Unsure what to do, I just stand on the grass, feeling Hardin’s heavy, soaked shirt on my shoulders and thinking he’s too far away.
From where he stands, he dips down a little to meet my eyes. “Do you want it to be here? Or my room?”
I shrug nervously. I don’t want to go to his room, because it’s too far—the drive will give me too much time to overthink what I am about to do.
“Here,” I say and look around. There is no one in sight and I pray that no one will come here.
“Eager?” He smiles and I try to roll my eyes, but it probably looks like a desperate flutter. The heat in my body is slowly burning out the longer Hardin’s touch is not on me.
“Come here,” he says in a low voice and the heat returns.
My feet pad quietly across the soft grass until I’m only inches from Hardin. His hands immediately reach for the hem of the T-shirt and he peels it upward off my body. The way he looks at me alone drives me crazy; my hormones are out of control. My pulse speeds up as he looks my body up and down one more time before taking my hand.
He spreads his shirt on the grass like a blanket of sorts. “Lie down,” he says, guiding me to the ground with him. He lays me on the wet fabric and props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side, facing me on my back. No one has ever seen me this exposed before, and Hardin has seen so many girls, girls much better looking than me. My hands move up to cover my body, but Hardin sits up and grabs both of my wrists and pushes them down to my sides.
“Don’t ever cover up, not for me,” he says and looks into my eyes.
“It’s just . . .” I begin to explain, but he cuts me off.
“No, you will not cover up, you have nothing to be ashamed of, Tess.” Does he mean that? “I mean it, look at you,” he continues, seeming to read my mind.
“You’ve been with so many girls,” I blurt out, and he frowns.
“None like you.” And I know I could take his answer many different ways, but I choose to let it go.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask him, trying to remember the few things I know about sex.
“A condom?” He chuckles. “I’m not going to have sex with you,” he says and I begin to panic. Is this all a game to humiliate me?
“Oh,” is all I say and begin to pull myself up. But he grabs my shoulders and gently pushes me back down. I’m sure I’m flush red, and I don’t want to be exposed to his sarcastic eyes like this.
“Where are you going—” he starts, but then realization hits him. “Oh . . . No, Tess, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you have never done anything . . . like at all, so I am not going to have sex with you.” He stares at me for a moment. “Today,” he adds, and I feel a little bit of the pressure in my chest dissolve.
“There are many other things I want to do to you first.” He climbs on top of me, all of his weight supported on his hands. He is in a push-up position. His wet hair drips water droplets onto my face and I squirm.
“I can’t believe no one has fucked you before,” he whispers and he shifts his body to lie on his side once again. He brings his hand to my neck and trails it down, touching me only with his fingertips, down the valley of my breasts, down my stomach until he stops just above my underwear. We are really doing this, me and Hardin. What is he going to do? Will it hurt? A hundred thoughts race through my mind but disappear as soon as his hand reaches into my panties. I hear him suck a breath through his teeth and he brings his mouth to mine.
His fingers move a little, and it shocks me.
“Does that feel good?” he asks into my mouth.
He’s only rubbing me—how does it feel so good? I nod and he slows his fingers down.
“Does it feel better than when you do it?”
What?
“Does it?” he asks again.
“Wh-what?” I manage, even though I have no control of my body or mind right now.
“When you touch yourself? Does it feel like this?”
I’m not sure what to say, and when I just stare at him, something behind his eyes snaps to. “Wait . . . you’ve never done that, either, have you?” His voice is full of surprise and something else . . . lust? He goes back to kissing me and his fingers keep moving up and down. “You’re so responsive to me, so wet,” he says and I moan. Why are these filthy words so hot when Hardin says them? I feel a gentle pinch and it sends a shock through my whole body.
“What? Was . . . that?” I half ask, half moan. He chuckles and doesn’t answer, but I feel him do it again and my back arches off the grass. His mouth travels down to my neck, then my chest. His tongue dips down under the cup of my bra and his hand massages one of my breasts. I feel a pressure building in my stomach—and it is pure bliss. I pinch my eyes closed and bite down on my lip; my back lifts off the grass once again and my legs begin to shake.
“That’s right, Tessa, come for me,” he says, which makes me feel like I am spiraling out of control. “Look at me, baby,” he purrs.
I open my eyes. The sight of his mouth nipping the skin on my chest sends me over the edge and my vision goes white for a few seconds. “Hardin,” I say, and then repeat, and I can tell by the way his cheeks flush that he loves it. Slowly, he pulls his hand out and rests it on my stomach as I try to return my breathing to normal. My body had never felt so energized before, and it’s never felt so relaxed as this now.
I’ll give you a minute to recover.” He laughs to himself and moves away from me.
I frown. I want him to stay close, but I’m also strangely unable to speak. After the best few minutes of my life, I sit up and look toward Hardin. He already has his jeans and shoes on.
“We’re leaving already?” The embarrassment is clear in my voice. I had assumed he would want me to touch him, too; even if I don’t really know what to do, he could explain it to me.
“Yeah, you wanted to stay longer?”
“I just thought . . . I don’t know. I thought maybe you would want something . . .” I have no idea how to say this. Lucky for me he catches on.
“Oh, no. I am okay, for now,” he says and gives me a small smile. Is he going to go back to being mean again? I hope not, not after this. I have just shared the most intimate experience I have ever had with him. I won’t be able to stand it if he treats me terribly again. He did say “for now,” so he wants something later? I am already starting to regret this. I put my clothes on over my wet bra and panties and try to ignore the soft wetness between my thighs. Hardin picks up his wet shirt and hands it to me.
He takes in my confused expression and tells me “to towel off.” His eyes shift to the apex of my thighs.
Oh. I unbutton my pants and he doesn’t bother to turn around as I swipe the shirt across my sensitive skin there. I don’t miss the way his tongue brushes across his bottom lip while he watches me. He pulls his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and his thumb slides across the screen repeatedly. I finish doing what he recommended and hand him his shirt back. As I step into my shoes, the air around us has changed from passionate to distant, and I find myself wishing to be as far away from him as possible.
I wait for him to talk to me as we walk back to the car, but he doesn’t say anything. My mind is already coming up with every possible worst-case scenario for what happens next. He opens my door for me and I nod to thank him.
“Is something wrong?” he asks me while he drives back down the gravel road.
“I don’t know. Why are you being so weird now?” I ask him, even though I’m afraid of his answer and can’t look directly at him.
“I’m not, you are.”
“No, you haven’t said a word to me since . . . you know.”
“Since I gave you your first orgasm?”
My mouth drops and my cheeks flush. Why am I still surprised by his dirty mouth?
“Um, yeah. Since that, you haven’t said anything. You just got dressed and we left.” Honesty seems to be the best option right now, so I add, “It makes me feel like you’re using me or something”
“What? Of course I’m not using you. To use someone I would have to be getting something out of it,” he says, so offhandedly that I can suddenly feel the tears coming. I do my best to keep them back but one escapes.
“Are you crying? What did I say?” He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. To my surprise it soothes me. “I didn’t mean it like that—I am sorry. I’m not used to whatever is supposed to happen after messing around with someone, plus I wasn’t going to just drop you off at your room and go our separate ways. I thought maybe we could get some dinner or something? I am sure you’re starving.” He squeezes my thigh gently.
I smile back at him, relieved by his words. I wipe away the tear that escaped prematurely and with it goes my worry.
I don’t know what it is about Hardin that makes me so emotional, in every way possible. The idea of him using me makes me more upset than it should. My feelings for Hardin are so confusing. I hate him one minute and want to kiss him the next. He makes me feel things I never knew I could, and not just sexually. He makes me laugh and cry, yell and scream, but most of all he makes me feel alive.
Chapter twenty-six
Hardin’s hand is still on my thigh and I hope he never removes it. I take a quick opportunity to study some of the tattoos covering his arms. The infinity symbol above his wrist catches my eye again, and I can’t help but wonder if it means something to him. It feels personal, inked there, just above the bare skin on his hand. I check his other wrist for a matching symbol but there isn’t one. The infinity symbol is common enough, mostly among women, but the way the two loops on the ends are hearts makes me even more curious.
“So what type of food do you like?” he asks.
What a refreshingly normal question for him to ask me. I pull my matted, almost dry hair into a bun and think for a second about what I want to eat. “Well, I like anything, really, as long as I know what it is—and it doesn’t involve ketchup.”
He laughs. “You don’t like ketchup? Aren’t all Americans supposed to be wild for the stuff?” he teases.
“I have no idea, but it’s disgusting.”
We both laugh and I look over at Hardin, who says, “Let’s just stick with a plain diner then?”
I nod and he reaches to turn the music up but stops and puts his hand back on me. “So what do you plan on doing after college?” he asks; it’s something he’s already asked me before, in his room.
“I’m going to move to Seattle immediately, and I hope to work at a publishing house or be a writer. I know it’s silly,” I say, suddenly embarrassed by my high ambitions. “But you already asked me that before, remember?”
“No, it’s not. I know someone over at Vance Publishing House; it’s a bit of a drive, but maybe you should apply there for an internship. I could talk to him.”
“What? You would do that for me?” My voice goes high because I’m pretty surprised; even if he has been nice for the last hour, this isn’t quite what I expected.
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.” He seems a little embarrassed. I am sure he isn’t used to doing nice things.
“Wow, thank you. Really. I need to get a job or internship soon anyway, and that would literally be a dream come true!” I clap my hands.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re welcome.”
We pull into a small parking lot next to an old brick building.
“The food here is amazing,” he says and climbs out of the car. Walking around to the trunk, he opens it . . . and pulls out another plain-black T-shirt. He really must have an endless supply. I was enjoying him being shirtless so much that I forgot he would eventually have to put one back on.
When we get inside we seat ourselves in the fairly deserted place. An old woman walks to the table and goes to hand us our menus, but he waves them off, ordering a hamburger and fries, gesturing like I should do the same. I trust him on this one and order it—minus ketchup, of course.
While we wait, I tell Hardin about growing up in Richland, which, being from England, he’s never heard of. He isn’t missing out on much; the town is small and everyone does the same things and no one ever leaves. Everyone except me: I will never move back there. He doesn’t offer me much information about his past, but I’m hopeful and patient. He seems very curious about my life as a child and he frowns when I tell him about my dad’s drinking. I had mentioned it to him before, while we were fighting, but this time I went into a little more detail.
During a pause in the conversation, the waitress reappears with our food, which looks delicious.
“Good, huh?” Hardin asks as I take my first bite. I nod and wipe my mouth off. The food is amazing and we both clear our plates, me being more hungry than I’ve ever been before.
THE DRIVE BACK TO THE DORMS is relaxed. His long fingers rub circles on my leg, and I’m disappointed to see the WCU sign when we finally hit campus and the student parking lot.
“Did you have a nice time?” I ask him. I feel so much closer to him now than I did a few hours ago. He can be really good when he tries to be.
“Yeah, I did, actually.” He seems surprised. “Listen, I would walk you to your room, but I don’t want to play twenty questions with Steph . . .” He smiles and turns his body sideways to face me.
“It’s fine. I’ll just see you tomorrow,” I tell him. I’m not sure if I should try to kiss him goodbye or not, so I’m relieved when his fingers tug on a few loose strands of my hair and tuck them behind my ear. I rest my face in his palm and he leans over and touches his lips to mine. It starts as a simple and gentle kiss, but I feel it warm my entire body and I need more. Hardin grabs my arm and pulls it to gesture for me to climb over the middle divider. I quickly oblige and straddle his lap, my back hitting the steering wheel. I feel the seat recline slightly, giving us more room as I lift his shirt a little to slide my hands under it. His stomach is hard and his skin is hot. I trace my fingers along the ink there.
His tongue massages mine and he wraps his arms around me tightly. The feeling is almost painful, but it’s a pain I will gladly endure to be this close to him. He moans into my mouth as I put my hands farther up his shirt. I love that I can make him moan, too, that I have this effect on him. I’m really about to get lost in the sensation again when we are interrupted by my phone ringing.
“Another alarm?” he teases as I pull back and reach into my purse.
Smiling, I open my mouth to say something smart back at him, but when I look at the screen and see it’s Noah, I stop. Looking at Hardin, I can tell he’s figured it out. His expression changes, and fearing that I’m losing him, this mood, I hit the ignore button and toss my phone back onto the passenger seat. I am not thinking about Noah right now. I push him to the back corner of my mind and lock that door.
I lean back in to continue kissing Hardin, but he stops me.
“I think I better go.” His tone is clipped, and sends worry through me. When I draw back to look at him, his gaze is distant and ice immediately replaces the fire in my body.