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.
“Is that what you wanted?” he says with a smirk and I swat his arm. He is going to make me beg him.
“Kiss me . . . there.” I blush and cover my face with my hands. He pulls them away, laughing, and I frown at him. “You’re embarrassing me on purpose.” I scowl. His hands are still on mine.
“I’m not meaning to embarrass you. I just want to hear you say what you want from me.”
“Never mind, Hardin,” I say and sigh loudly. Because I am embarrassed and maybe my hormones are going haywire and messing with my emotions but now the moment has passed and I’m annoyed with his ego and constant need to goad me. I roll over and lie on my side, facing away from him, and cover myself with the blanket.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, but I ignore him. I know part of me is just annoyed at myself that being around Hardin has turned me into a typical hormonal teenager.
“Good night, Hardin,” I snap and hear him sigh. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “fine,” but I don’t ask him to repeat it. I force my eyes closed and try to think of anything besides Hardin’s tongue or the way his arm just draped across my body as I fall asleep.
chapter thirty-five
I am hot, too hot. I try to pull the covers off me, but they won’t budge. When my eyes open, the night before comes flooding into my mind: Hardin screaming at me in the yard, the scotch on his breath, the broken glass in the kitchen, Hardin kissing me, Hardin moaning as I touched him, his wet boxers. I try to lift myself, but he’s too heavy, his head lying across my chest and his arm wrapped around my waist, his body cloaking mine. I’m surprised we ended up like this; he must have moved this way in his sleep. I do admit, I don’t want to leave this bed, leave Hardin, but I have to. I have to get back to my room. Noah is there. Noah. Noah.
I gently push Hardin off by his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. Then he rolls onto his stomach and groans but doesn’t