After (After 1)

I nod and grab my purse and phone.

When we get to his car, he keeps the radio down as he drives. I really don’t want to go to the bowling alley. I hate bowling, but I want to spend time with him. I don’t like how codependent I already feel.

“How long do you think we will be there?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t know . . . why?” He looks sideways at me.

“I don’t know . . . I don’t really care for bowling.”

“It won’t be too bad. Everyone’s there,” he assures me. I hope everyone doesn’t include part-time ho Molly.

“I guess,” I mumble and look out the window.

“You don’t want to go?” His voice is quiet.

“Not really, that’s why I said no the first time.” I laugh a little nonlaugh.

“Let’s go somewhere else, then?”

“Where?” I am irritated with him, but I’m not sure why.

“My house,” he suggests and I smile and nod. His smile grows, showing the dimples that I have grown so fond of. “My house it is, then.” He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. My skin warms, and I put my hand over his.

Fifteen minutes later we are pulling up to the large fraternity house. I haven’t been here since Hardin and I fought and I walked back to the dorms. As he leads me up the stairs, none of the guys bothers to look twice at us; they must be used to seeing Hardin bring a girl home. My stomach pings at the thought. I need to stop thinking this way, because it’s going to drive me insane and there is nothing I can do to change it.

“Here we are,” Hardin says and unlocks his door. I follow him inside and he turns the light on, kicking his boots off his feet and onto the floor. He moves over to his bed and pats the spot next to him.

As I walk toward him, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Was Molly there? At the bowling alley?” I look out his window as I ask him.

“Yeah, of course she was,” he answers casually. “Why?”

I sit down on the soft bed and Hardin pulls me by my ankles closer to him. I laugh and slide closer, my back flat against the bed, putting my knees up and my feet on the other side of his legs.

“I was just wondering . . .” I tell him and he grins.

“She is always going to be around; she’s a part of our group.”

I know it’s silly of me to be this jealous of her, but she just bothers me. She acts like she likes me, when I know she doesn’t, and I know she likes Hardin. Now that we are . . . whatever we are, I don’t want her near him.

“You aren’t like worried that I will fuck her, are you?”

I swat his arm at his use of words. I love the way dirty words sound coming off his lips, but not when she’s involved.

“No, well, I . . . maybe. I just know you have before, and I don’t want you to again,” I say. I am sure he is going to mock my jealousy, so I turn my head sideways.

His hand goes to my knee and he squeezes gently. “I wouldn’t do that . . . not now. Don’t worry about her, okay?” His words are gentle, and I believe him.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about us?” I know I should just shut my mouth, but it has been bothering me.

“I don’t know . . . I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. Besides, what we do is our business. Not theirs,” he explains. His answer is much better than what was going through my mind.

“I guess you’re right. I thought maybe you were embarrassed or something?” I say and he laughs.

“Why would I possibly be embarrassed by you? Look at you.” His eyes darken and he moves his hand to my stomach. His fingers tug up my shirt and he draws circles on my bare skin with his digits. Goose bumps raise my skin and he smiles.

“I love the way your body responds to me,” he breathes. I know what is coming next, and I can’t wait.

Chapter fifty-three

Hardin’s fingers trail farther up my shirt, causing my breath to quicken. A smile creeps onto his beautiful face as he becomes aware.

“One touch and you’re already panting,” his raspy voice whispers. He leans over, moving my feet off his lap so that he can bring his mouth to my neck. His tongue makes a flat stripe down my neck and I quiver. My fingers thread into his curls and I tug as he nips at my skin. One of his hands slides down in between my legs but I grab his wrist to stop him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing . . . I just thought that I would do something for you this time?”

I look away, but his fingers cup my chin so I am forced to make eye contact with him. He tries to hide his smirk, but I catch him.

“And what would you like to do for me?”

“Well . . . I thought I could, you know, what you said the other day?” I don’t know why I am so shy with words when Hardin says anything and everything he is thinking, but the words “blow job” are not in my vocabulary.

“You want to suck my cock?” he asks, clearly surprised.

I am officially horrified. Yet somehow turned on. “Um . . . yeah. I mean if you want me to?” I hope as our relationship progresses I will be able to say these things to him. I would love to be comfortable enough with Hardin to be able to feel that sort of bravery, to tell him exactly what I want to do to him.

“Of course I want you to. I’ve wanted your lips around me since I first saw you.” I’m oddly flattered by his crude remark, but then he asks, “Are you sure, though? Have you ever . . . even seen a dick before?”

I’m sure he knows the answer to that; maybe he’s just trying to get me to say it?