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