“I never wish to be parted from you from this day on,” it says. And I’m going to do everything I have to do in order to keep my permanent promise.

I lean up to look at her. One hand still rests under her back; the other travels up her torso and across both of her breasts, and rests just below her throat.

“Tell me how it feels,” I say with a grunt. I’m barely holding on to the pleasure that is coursing though me. I want to keep it there for both of us, to make it last longer. I want to create this space that we can both inhabit.

My movements quicken, and she moves one of her hands down to fist the bedsheets. Every sinful twist of my hips, every violent thrust into her waiting body, intensifies and further seals the power she has over me.

“So good, Hardin . . . so good . . .” Her voice is thick and hoarse, and I swallow the rest of her moans like the greedy bastard I am. I feel her body begin to go rigid, and I can’t wait any longer. With a soft cry of her name, I spill into the condom with slow and sloppy thrusts before collapsing, barely breathing, next to her.

I reach over and pull her body to mine, and when I open my eyes, a sheer layer of sweat covers her silky skin, her eyes are open, and she’s staring at the ceiling fan.

“You okay?” I ask her. I know I was a little rough toward the end, but I also know how much she loves that shit.

“Yeah, of course.” She leans over to plant a kiss on my bare chest and climbs out of the bed. I groan in disappointment when she pulls her white T-shirt down over her head, covering her body.

“Here’s your headband.” She smiles, proud of her corny remark, and she tosses the sweat-dampened T-shirt I wrapped around my head in the gym onto the bed. I roll the fabric up and wrap it around my head again just to get a reaction out of her.

“You don’t like it?” I ask, and she giggles.

“I do, actually.” Tessa is really putting on a show as she bends down to pick up her black panties from the floor and shimmies them up her thighs. That she isn’t wearing a bra is wonderfully apparent as she shakes her body.

“Good. It’s easier this way.” I point to the contraption on my head.

I really need a fucking haircut, but Steph’s friend, a lavender-haired chick named Mads, has always been the one to cut it. My blood begins to boil at the thought of Steph. That stupid fucking . . .

“Earth to Hardin!” Tessa’s voice brings me out of my hateful thoughts.

I snap my head up. “Sorry.”

Back in her pajamas, Tessa snuggles up next to me and, strangely, grabs the remote to the TV and starts flipping around trying to find something to watch. I’m a little dazed, so the cooldown feels comfortable, but after a few minutes I realize she’s sighed quite a few times. And when I look over at her, there’s a deep scowl on her face, like finding a program to watch is more frustrating than it should be.

“Something wrong?” I ask her.

“No,” she lies.

“Tell me now,” I press, and she lets out a quick breath.

“It’s nothing . . . I’m just a little . . .” Her cheeks flush. “Wound up.”

“Wound up? You should be anything but wound up after that.” I pull back a little and look at her.

“I didn’t . . . you know, I—I didn’t,” she stutters. Her shyness never fails to surprise me. One minute she’s moaning into my ear to fuck her harder, faster, deeper, and the next she can’t form a sentence.

“Spill it,” I demand.

“I didn’t finish.”

“What?” I choke. Had I really been that consumed by my own pleasure that I didn’t notice when she didn’t come?

“You stopped right before . . .” she quietly explains.

“Why didn’t you say something? Come here, then.” I tug at her shirt to lift it over her head.

“What are you going to do?” she asks, excitement laced in her tone.

“Shh . . .” I don’t know what I want to do . . . I want to make love to her again, but I need a little more time to refuel.

Wait—got it.

“We’re going to do something that we’ve only done once.” I smirk at her, and her eyes widen. “Because, you know, practice makes perfect.”

“What’s that?” And just like that, her excitement has been replaced by nervousness.

I lie back on my elbows and beckon to her to come to me.

“I don’t get it,” she says.

“Come here; put your thighs here.” I tap the empty space on both sides of my head.

“What?”

“Tessa, come here, and then spread your thighs over my face, so I can get you off right and proper,” I explain slowly and clearly.

“Oh,” she squeaks. I see the hesitation in her eyes, and I reach over to turn the lamp off. I want her to be as comfortable as possible. Despite the darkness, I can still make out the soft planes of her body, the fullness of her chest, the sexy curve of her hips.

Tessa removes her panties, and within seconds she’s following my instructions and kneeling over me.

“This is quite the view I have here,” I tease her, and my vision disappears. She’s pulled my T-shirt down over my eyes.

“Well, this is much hotter, actually.” I smile against her thighs. She smacks me playfully on the head in response. “Really, though . . . it’s really fucking hot,” I add.

I hear her laugh in the darkness, and I bring my hands to her hips, guiding her movements. Once my tongue touches her, she begins to move her hips on her own, tugging at my hair and whispering my name until she loses herself in the pleasure I’m giving her.

chapter

ninety-nine

TESSA

I come back to reality, slowly, unwillingly, but happy Hardin’s lying next to me.

“Hey.” He smiles, kissing me on my lips.

I laugh—it’s a lazy sound, not wanting to move. My body is slightly sore, but in the best way.

“I wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow,” I whisper while running my fingertips over one of the branches on his tattoo. The tree is dark, haunting and intricate. I wonder: If Hardin were getting this tattoo now, would he get the dead tree again? Or would there be just a few leaves on the branches, now that he’s happier, more lively?

“Me, too,” he answers simply.

I can’t mask the desperation behind my plea when I say “Then don’t.”

Hardin’s fingers spread across my back, and he presses my naked body closer to his. “I don’t want to, but I know you’re only saying that because I just made you come repeatedly.”

A horrified scoff falls from my lips. “That’s not true!” Hardin’s body shakes gently with an amused chuckle. “It really isn’t the only reason . . . Maybe we could be with each other on the weekends for a little while and see where it goes from there?”

“You expect me to drive here every weekend?”

“Not every one. I’ll come there, too.” I tilt to my head to look into his eyes. “It’s working for us so far.”

“Tessa . . .” He sighs, “I already told you how I felt about the long-distance shit.” My eyes flicker to the ceiling fan slowly spinning around and around in the dimness of the room. Rachel is pouring marinara sauce into Monica’s handbag on the television screen.

“Yes, yet here you are,” I challenge him.

He sighs and tugs gently at the ends of my hair, forcing me to look at him once more. “Touché.”

“Well, I think there’s some sort of compromise that can be reached here, don’t you?”

“What’s your offer?” he asks softly, briefly closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

“I don’t know exactly . . . give me a moment,” I say.

What exactly am I offering him? It’s in the best interest of both of our sanities to stay somewhat distant from each other for now. As much as my heart forgets all the terrible things that Hardin and I have been through in the past, my brain won’t allow me to give up all of my remaining dignity.