After (After 1)

“And you stay there with him?”

“No, he stays there,” I say sheepishly, “and I stay in my room.”

“Is he straight?” Hardin asks, his bloodshot eyes dancing in amusement.

My eyes go wide. “Of course he is!”

“Sorry, but something is not right there. If you were mine, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you. I would fuck you every chance I had.”

My mouth falls open. Hardin’s dirty words have the strangest effect on me. I flush and look away.

“Let’s go inside,” I hear him say. “The trees are swaying back and forth. I think that is my cue I’ve had way too much to drink.”

“You’re staying here?” I had assumed he would go back to his frat house.

“Yeah, and so are you. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and we walk toward the back door.

I will have to find Landon and try to explain what he saw through the door. I don’t know what’s happening myself, so I’m not sure how I will explain it, but I have to make him understand somehow. As we walk through the kitchen, I notice the mess is almost completely cleaned up.

“You need to clean the rest of this tomorrow,” I tell him and he nods.

“I will,” he promises. Yet another promise I hope he keeps.

My hand in his, he leads me up the grand staircase. I pray that we don’t run into Landon in the hallway and I am relieved when we don’t.

Hardin opens the door to a pitch-black room and gently pulls me inside.

Chapter thirty-two

My eyes adjust to the darkness, but the only light is a small streak of moonlight coming through the bay window. “Hardin?” I whisper.

I hear him curse as he trips over something and I try not to laugh.

“I’m right here,” he says and clicks on a desk lamp. I look around the large room, which reminds me of a hotel. A four-poster bed with dark linens is centered against the far wall and looks like a king-size with at least twenty pillows on top. The desk is oversize and made of cherrywood, and the computer sitting on it has a bigger monitor than the television in my dorm room. The bay window has a built-in bench while the other windows are masked with thick navy curtains that don’t allow the moon to shine through.

“This is my . . . room,” he says and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. He looks almost embarrassed.

“You have a room here?” I ask, but of course he does. It is his father’s house and Landon obviously lives here. Landon had mentioned that Hardin never comes here, so maybe that is why it looks so museum-like, untouched and impersonal.

“Yeah . . . I haven’t ever actually slept in it . . . until tonight.” He sits on the chest placed at the foot of the bed and unties his boots. He pulls his socks off and tucks them into the shoes. My heart swells at the idea that I am part of a first for Hardin.

“Oh. Why is that?” I am taking advantage of his drunken honesty.

“Because I don’t want to. I hate it here,” he answers quietly and unbuttons his black pants and pulls them down his legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting undressed?” he says, stating the obvious.

“I mean, why?” Even though part of me is dying to feel his hands on me again, I hope he doesn’t think I’m going to have sex with him.

“Well, I am not sleeping in skinny jeans and boots,” he half laughs. His hand sweeps the hair off his forehead, making it stand straight up. Everything he does sends that wild feeling through my body.

“Oh.”

He pulls his shirt over his head, and I can’t look away. His tattooed stomach is flawless. He tosses the T-shirt at me, but I don’t catch it, letting it fall to the ground. I raise one eyebrow at him and he smiles.

“You can sleep in that. I assume you won’t want to sleep in just your underwear. But of course, I am perfectly fine with it if you do.” He winks and I giggle.

Why am I giggling? I can’t sleep in his T-shirt, I will feel too naked.

“I’m fine sleeping in this,” I tell him

He eyes my outfit. He hasn’t made a single rude comment about my long skirt or loose blue blouse, so I hope he doesn’t start now.

“Fine. Suit yourself; if you want to be uncomfortable, go ahead.” He moves toward the bed in only his boxers and begins to toss the decorative pillows onto the floor.

I walk over and open the chest, and just as I had thought, it is empty. “Oh, don’t throw those down. They go in here,” I tell him, but he just laughs and tosses another onto the floor.

Groaning, I gather the pillows and stuff them into the chest. He again chuckles and pulls back the comforter before plopping down onto the bed. He crosses his arms behind his head, then crosses his feet and gives me a smile. The words tattooed on his ribs are stretched because of the position of his arms. His long, lean body looks exquisite.

“You’re not going to whine about sleeping in the bed with me, are you?” he asks, and I roll my eyes. I actually wasn’t going to. I know it’s wrong, but I want to sleep in the bed with Hardin more than I think I have ever wanted anything.

“No, the bed is big enough for both of us,” I say with a smile. I don’t know if it’s Hardin’s smile or the fact that he is wearing only boxers, but I’m in a much better mood than before.

“Now that’s the Tessa I love,” he teases and my heart lurches at his choice of words. I know he doesn’t, and would never, mean it that way, but it sounded so nice coming off his lips.

I climb onto the bed and scoot to the edge, as far away from Hardin’s body as I can. Any farther and I’ll fall off. I hear him chuckle and I roll over on my side to face him. “What is so funny?”