A few grunts escape his lips and I cry out, both of us reaching our climaxes. “Let go, baby,” he instructs, and I do just that. He leaves his lips pressed against mine, swallowing my moans as he tenses and spills into the condom.
With a few heavy breaths his head falls onto my chest and he continues to hold me in place for a few seconds before lifting me and then lowering me to stand on my own feet.
I tilt my head back against the door and catch my breath as he neatly puts the condom back into the wrapper and puts it into his pocket before pulling his pants back up.
“Remind me to throw that away as soon as we get downstairs.” He laughs and I giggle. “Thank you,” he says and kisses my cheek. “Not for what we just did, but for everything.”
“You never need to thank me, Hardin. You do as much for me as I do for you.” I look into his bright green eyes. “Actually, more.”
“No way.” He shakes his head gently and takes my hand. “Let’s go back down before someone comes looking for us.”
“How do I look?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair and wiping under my eyes.
“Freshly fucked,” he teases and I roll my eyes. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” I tell him.
ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE TENT is dancing by the time we return, and it seems that our absence has gone unnoticed. As we take our seats another song begins. I recognize it: “Never Let Me Go,” by Florence and the Machine.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask Hardin, even though I am sure I already know his answer.
“No, I don’t dance,” he says and looks over at me. “Unless . . . you want to?” he adds.
I am surprised by his offer and thrilled that he would dance with me. He holds his hand out for mine, but really I’m the one who leads us onto the checkered dance floor, moving quickly in case he changes his mind. We stay in the back, a good distance from the crowd.
“I don’t have a clue what to do.” He laughs.
“I’ll show you,” I assure him and place his hands on my hips. He steps on my feet a few times, but he catches on quickly. Never in a million years would I have even entertained the thought that Hardin would be dancing at his father’s wedding.
“Sort of a demented song to play at a wedding, isn’t it?” He laughs into my ear.
“Not really; it’s sort of perfect,” I say and lean my head on his chest.
I am aware that we aren’t actually dancing as much as we are just swaying back and forth holding each other, but that’s fine with me. We stay that way for the next two songs, which end up being two of my favorites. “You Found Me” by the Fray makes Hardin laugh as he holds me close to him. The next, a pop song by a boy band, plays, making me smile and him roll his eyes. During both, Hardin gives me some background on his grandmother. She still lives in England, but he hasn’t seen or spoken to her since she phoned him on his twelfth birthday. She took his father’s side during the divorce and defended his drinking, essentially blaming Hardin’s mother for everything, which was enough for Hardin to not want to speak to her again. He seems very comfortable sharing this information with me, so I stay quiet, only nodding and humming in acknowledgment of his remarks.
Hardin makes a few jokes about how annoying and whiny all the songs being played are, and I laugh at him.
“You want to go back upstairs?” he jokes and lowers his hand on my back.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll have to give you champagne more often.” I move his hands back up to my waist and he pouts, which makes me laugh even more. “I’m actually having a pretty decent time,” he admits.
“Me, too. Thank you for coming with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
I know he doesn’t mean the wedding but just with me in general. The thought sends warmth through me.
“May I cut in?” Ken asks as the next song begins.
Hardin frowns and looks at me, then back to his father. “Yeah, but only one song,” he grumbles.
Ken laughs and repeats his son’s words: “One song.” Hardin lets go of me, and Ken’s hand goes around my back. I swallow down the uneasy feelings I hold for him. He keeps the conversation light as we dance and my ill feelings are further muted as we laugh at an obviously drunk couple swaying back and forth next to us.
“Would you look at that?” Ken then says, his voice full of wonder.
I turn to see what he’s referring to and hear my own small gasp as I spot Hardin awkwardly swaying back and forth with Karen. She laughs as he steps on her white shoes, and he smiles an embarrassed smile. Tonight has been better than I could have dreamed.
After the song ends, Hardin quickly finds his way back to me, and Karen follows. We tell the happy bride and groom that we’re going to go, and we all exchange hugs once again, Hardin’s being maybe incrementally less stiff than earlier. Someone calls Ken’s name and he nods at them. He and Karen say their final goodbyes and thank us once again for coming to the wedding before disappearing into the crowd.
“Oh, my feet are killing me,” I say. This is the longest I have worn heels in my entire life and I am going to need a week to recover.
“Would you like me to carry you?” he says in a mocking, babylike voice.
“No.” I giggle.
As we are leaving the tent, Trevor walks by with Mr. Vance and Kimberly. Her smile is bright and she winks at me after looking Hardin up and down. I try to stifle my laugh and end up coughing.
“Did you save me a dance?” Mr. Vance teases Hardin.
“No, absolutely not.” Hardin laughs back at him.
“You’re leaving so soon?” Trevor looks at me.
“We have been here for a while, actually,” Hardin answers for me and pulls me away from them. “Nice to see you, Vance,” he calls over his shoulder as we walk out of the tent.
“That was rude.” I scold him when we get to his car.
“He was flirting with you. I am entitled to be as rude as I please.”
“Trevor wasn’t flirting; he was just being nice.”
Hardin rolls his eyes. “He wants you, I can tell. Don’t be so naïve.”
“Just be nice to him, please. I work with him and I don’t want any problems,” I say calmly. Tonight has been too good a night to ruin over his jealousy.
Hardin smirks evilly. “I could always just have Vance fire him.”
I can’t help but laugh at his cocky response. “You’re insane,” I snort.
“Only when it comes to you,” he says and pulls onto the street.
Chapter ninety-five
I love coming home!” I proclaim with a squeal as we walk into the apartment, only to then realize it’s freezing. “Except when you turn the heat off.” I shiver and he chuckles.
“I still haven’t figured that thing out yet; it’s too high-tech.”
As Hardin tries to figure out the thermostat, I grab a blanket off the bed and two from the closet and drop them in a heap on the couch, then go back to the bedroom. “Hardin!” I call.
“Coming!”
“Can you unzip me?” I ask as he comes in, looking frustrated from his handyman moment.
I flinch from the coolness of his fingertips against my bare skin. He apologizes, then hastily unzips the material, and it drops to the floor. I take my shoes off and find that the concrete floor is freezing as well. Hurrying to the dresser, I grab the warmest pajamas I can find.
“Here, let me give you something,” he says and walks to the closet, pulling out a gray hooded sweatshirt.
“Thanks.” I smile. I don’t know what it is about being in Hardin’s clothes that I love so much; it’s almost as if wearing them brings us closer. I never did this with Noah, except once when I borrowed a sweatshirt while camping with his family.
Hardin seems to like when I wear his clothes, too. He watches me slip the sweatshirt over my head with lustful eyes. I notice him struggling to get the tie off and I pad over to help him. He watches me silently as I pull the thin fabric from around his neck and set it aside before grabbing a pair of thick, fuzzy, purple socks that my mother got me for Christmas last year.