I want to be good for you, Tess. Hardin’s words from earlier tonight play in my head and I wonder if he meant them or if he was just really drunk.
“Are you still drunk?” I ask and lay my head on his chest. His body stills but he doesn’t push me off.
“No, I think our little screaming match in the yard sobered me up,” he says. One of his hands is holding the remote and the other is hanging in the air awkwardly as if he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Oh, well, at least something good came out of it.”
He turns his head and looks down at me. “Yeah, I guess so,” he says, and finally puts his hand on my back. It’s an amazing feeling having him hold me. No matter what terrible thing he says to me tomorrow, he can’t take this moment away from me. This is my new favorite place to be, my head on his chest and his arm on my back.
“I think I actually like drunk Hardin better.” I yawn.
“Is that so?” he says and turns to look at me again.
“Maybe,” I tease and close my eyes.
“You’re terrible at distractions; now, tell me.”
I might as well just tell him. I know he isn’t going to drop it.
“Well, I was just thinking of all the girls you’ve . . . you know, done things with.” I try to hide my face in his chest, but he drops the remote on the bed and tilts my chin up to look at him.
“Why were you thinking about that?”
“I don’t know . . . because I have literally no experience and you have a lot. Steph included,” I answer. The image of the two of them together makes me nauseous.
“Are you jealous, Tess?” His voice is full of humor.
“No, of course not,” I lie.
“So you don’t mind if I tell you a few details, then?”
“No! Please don’t!” I beg, and he chuckles and wraps his arm a little tighter around me.
He doesn’t say anything else about it, and I could not be more relieved. I couldn’t bear to hear the details of his flings. I feel my eyes getting heavier and try to focus on the television. I am so comfortable lying here in his arms.
“You’re not going to sleep, are you? It’s still early,” he says, barely breaking through my haze.
“Is it?” It feels like it has to be at least two in the morning. I arrived here around nine.
“Yeah, it’s only midnight.”
“That isn’t early.” I yawn again.
“To me it is. Plus, I want to return the favor.”
What?
Oh.
My skin is starting to tingle already.
“You want me to, don’t you?” he purrs, and I gulp. Of course I do. I look up at him and try to hide my eager smile. He notices and with a swift, delicate motion flips us over so he is hovering above me. He supports his weight with one arm while his other hand reaches lower. I bring my leg up to his side, and when my knee bends he runs his hand from my ankle to the top of my thigh.
“So soft,” he says and repeats the motion. He gives my thigh a light squeeze and my skin is covered in goose bumps within seconds. Hardin leans over and places a single kiss on the side of my knee, causing my leg to jerk. He grabs it and laughs, hooking his arm around it.
What is he going to do? The anticipation is driving me crazy.
“I want to taste you, Tessa,” he says, eyes locked on mine to gauge my reaction.
My mouth is instantly parched. Why is he asking to kiss me, when he knows he can do that anytime? I part my lips and wait for him.
“No. Down here,” he corrects me, bringing his hand in between my legs. My lack of experience must astound him, but he at least tries to fight his smile. I frown at him and his finger touches me over my panties, causing me to suck in a breath. His finger makes soft strokes over my sex as he continues to look into my eyes.
“You’re already wet for me.” His voice is raspier than usual. His hot breath stings my ear and he runs his tongue along my earlobe.
“Talk to me, Tessa. Tell me how badly you want it.” He smirks and I squirm as he applies more pressure to my sensitive area.
I can’t find my voice because my body is on fire from his touch. After a few more seconds he pulls his hand away and I whimper.
“I didn’t want you to stop,” I whine.
“You didn’t say anything,” he snaps, and I recoil. I don’t want this Hardin. I want the laughing, playful Hardin.
“Couldn’t you tell?” I ask him and move to sit up.
He pulls himself up and sits on my thighs, holding his weight on his parted knees. He brushes his fingers across the tops of my thighs and my body instantly reacts, shifting my hips to meet his.
“Say it,” Hardin instructs. I know that he is well aware that I do; he just wants to make me say it aloud. I nod and he waves his finger back and forth in front of me.
“No nodding, just tell me what you want, baby,” he says, and climbs off of my knees. I mentally weigh the pros and cons of this situation. Is the humiliation of telling Hardin that I want him to . . . kiss me down there worth the feeling I will get from him doing it? If it feels anywhere near as good as what Hardin did to me with his fingers the other day, then I know it’s worth it. I reach out and grab his bare shoulder to stop him from moving any farther away from me. I’m overthinking this, I know I am, but my mind won’t stop racing.
“I want you to.” I move closer to him.
“Want me to what, Theresa?” He has to be kidding me; he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You know . . . to kiss me,” I say and his smile grows. He leans over and plants a kiss on my lips. I roll my eyes and he kisses my lips again.