“I don’t know, probably because you agreed to let him visit you here.”

“I didn’t know what else to say, and we were . . . well, we still are, in that weird place,” she mutters.

“I don’t want him near you. I know it’s fucked up, but I don’t give a shit. Honestly, Zed is the line for me; it will always be that way. No amount of kickboxing will change that. Weird place or not, you are only for me. Not just sexually, but entirely. I can’t stand you being in any sort of emotional relationship with that guy.”

“He hasn’t been near me since he took me to my mother’s house . . . that night,” she reminds me.

But the panic burning inside of me doesn’t budge. I look down, breathe in and out deeply to try to calm myself down a little.

“But”—she takes a step closer, though she remains just out of reach—“if it will make you stop thinking these things, I’ll tell him not to visit.”

My eyes dart to her beautiful face. “You will?” I expected more of a fight from her.

“Yes, I will. I don’t want it weighing on you like this.” With nervous eyes, she looks down at my chest and back up to my face.

“Come here.” I lift one bandaged hand to beckon her.

Because her feet are moving too slowly, I lean up and grab hold of her arm, wrapping my hand around her elbow to bring her to me more quickly.

My breathing has yet to return to normal. I have all this adrenaline rushing through my body. I couldn’t help but beat the shit out of that damn bag, but my hands and feet are aching—I still haven’t released all of my anger. There’s something inside my head, just sitting in the back of my mind, nagging at me, not allowing me to release my grudge against Zed.

That is, until her lips are on mine. She surprises me by pushing her tongue into my mouth and wrapping her small hands into my sweat-soaked hair, tugging hard, pulling the rolled-up T-shirt from around my head and tossing it onto the floor.

“Tessa . . .” I gently push against her chest and remove my mouth from hers. As I sit down on the weight bench, I see her eyes narrow at me.

She doesn’t speak as she moves to stand in front of me. “I won’t put up with you rejecting me because of a dream, Hardin. If you don’t want me, then that’s fine, but this is bullshit,” she says through her teeth.

As twisted as it is, her anger stirs something inside of me, causing my blood to flow straight to my dick. I’ve wanted this woman since the last time I was inside of her, and now here she is, wanting me—and getting frustrated that I’m stopping her from taking what she wants.

Hearing her come over the phone would never be good enough; I need to feel it.

A war is being fought within me. With the wild energy still pumping through my veins like fire, I finally say, “I can’t help it, Tessa, I know it doesn’t make sense—”

“Fuck me, then,” she says, and my mouth falls open. “You should just fuck me until you forget about that dream, because you’re here for one night, and I’ve missed you, but you’re too stuck on imagining me with Zed to even give me the attention that I want.”

“The attention that you want?” I can’t help the harshness of my tone as I hear her ridiculous and untrue words. She has no idea how many times I’ve fucked my own hand, pretending it was her, imagining her voice in my ear telling me how much she needs me, how much she loves me.

“Yes, Hardin. That. I. Want.”

“What is it exactly that you want?” I ask her. Her gaze is hard and slightly unnerving.

“I want you to spend time with me without obsessing over Zed, I want you to touch me and kiss me without pulling away. That, Hardin, is what I want.” She scowls and places her hands on her hips. “I want you to touch me—only you,” she adds, relaxing her stance by a fraction.

Her words, reassuring and flattering, begin to push the paranoid thoughts from my mind, and I begin to to realize just how stupid this whole ordeal we’re going through really is. She’s mine, not his. He’s sitting alone somewhere, and I’m here with her—and she wants me. I can’t keep my eyes off her pouty lips, her angry glare, the soft curve of her tits just under the thin white T-shirt. The T-shirt that should be, but isn’t, one of mine. Which is another result of my stubbornness.

Tessa closes the remaining distance between us, and my somewhat shy—yet very fucking dirty—girl is looking at me, expecting a reply as her hand moves to my shoulder and pushes me back just enough for her to climb onto my lap.

Fuck this. I don’t give a shit about some stupid fucking dream or our stupid fucking rule about distance. All I want is her and me, me and her: Tessa and the mess that is fucking Hardin.

Her lips find their way to my neck, and my fingertips press into her hips. No matter how many times I imagined it throughout the week, no fantasy will ever compare to her tongue skimming across my damp collarbone and up to that fucking spot just under my ear.

“Lock the door,” I instruct as her teeth softly sink into my skin and she grinds her hips down against me. I’m rock fucking hard against her ridiculous fluffy fucking pants, and I need her now.

I ignore the aching throb between my legs as she climbs off me and hurries across the room to do as I said. I don’t waste a goddamn second when she returns. Her pants are pushed down her thighs, and her black panties follow, pooling around her ankles on the padded floor.

“I’ve been tortured all week, thinking about how you look when you’re like this,” I groan, my eyes drinking in every fucking detail of her half-naked body. “So beautiful,” I say with awe.

When she pulls her T-shirt over her head, I can’t help but lean forward and kiss the curve of her wide hips. A slow shiver rakes through her, and she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra.

Holy fuck. Out of all the times I have made love to her, I can’t remember ever feeling this feverish. Even the times when she woke me up by wrapping her mouth around my cock, I never felt this fucking animalistic.

I reach for her, taking one of her breasts into my mouth and one in my hand. Her hands move to my shoulders to keep her steady as I pucker my lips around her soft skin.

“Oh God,” she moans, her nails digging into my shoulder, and I suck harder. “Lower, please.”

She attempts to guide my head down with a gentle push, so I use my teeth against her, to tease her. I run my fingertips along the underside of both of her breasts, slow and torturous . . . this is what she gets for being so fucking tempting and teasing.

Her hips move forward, and I slide my body down slightly so that my mouth is at the perfect height to press against the swollen bud of nerve endings between her thighs. With a soft moan, she encourages me to go further, and my lips wrap around her, sucking and savoring the wetness already gathered there. She’s so warm and so fucking sweet.

“Your fingers haven’t quite satisfied you, have they?” I pull away to ask her. She breathes a deep breath, her blue-gray eyes watching me as I tilt my head and run my tongue along her pubic bone.

“Don’t tease me,” she whines, tugging at my hair again.

“Did you touch yourself off again this week, after our chat on the phone?” I taunt her. She squirms and gasps when my tongue lands exactly where she wants it.

“No.”

“You’re lying.” I call her out. I can tell by the redness creeping from her neckline to her cheeks and the way her eyes flicker away to the mirrored wall that she’s not telling the truth. She has gotten herself off since our time on the phone . . . and the thought of her lying there, her legs spread open, her fingers moving over herself, her finding such pleasure from what I taught her . . . it makes me groan against her hot skin.

“Only once,” she lies again.

“That’s too bad.” I completely pull away from her.

“Three times, okay?” Tessa admits, embarrassment clear in her voice.