“You’re being nosy.” He wraps the section of my hair he’s been playing with around his fist and tugs playfully.

“I thought I was the hair-puller here.” I giggle at my corny statement, and then he does, too.

“You are.” He removes his hand from my hair, only for a moment, so he can gather the entire mass of messy blond waves. He tugs, pulling my head back so I’m forced to look at him.

“It’s been too long.” He dips his head down, gently leading me to sit up straight, and runs his nose along my exposed jaw and neckline. “I’ve been hard since your little tease this morning,” he whispers, pressing the evidence between my thighs. The heat of his breath on my skin is almost unbearable—I’m wriggling under his dirty words and intense stare.

“You’re going to take care of that, yeah?” he says more than asks.

He pulls his fistful of my hair down and back up again, gently forcing me to nod my head. I want to correct him and tell him that he, in fact, is the one who went about teasing me this morning, but I stay quiet. I like where this is going. Without a word, Hardin releases my hair and my hip and pulls himself up to his knees. His hands are cold as they push up the fabric of the T-shirt, exposing my bare stomach and chest. His fingers greedily reach for my breasts, and his tongue pushes into my mouth. I’m instantly ignited; all the stress from the last twenty-four hours is banished and Hardin fills all of my senses.

“Sit up, against the headboard,” he instructs after removing the shirt completely. I do as he says, lowering my body until my shoulders rest halfway up the enormous slate-colored headboard. Hardin’s boxers are tugged down, and he lifts one knee at a time to remove them from his body.

“A little lower, baby.” I reposition myself, and he nods in approval. Then he scoots across the bed, on his knees, and positions himself in front of me. My tongue slides out of my mouth, eager to be on his skin. My jaw relaxes, and Hardin wraps his fist around his erection, and I watch in awe as he brings it to my lips, pumping slowly. I open my mouth further, and Hardin’s thumb glides over my bottom lip, dipping into my mouth only fractionally before his finger is . . . um, replaced. He pushes into my mouth slowly, savoring the sensation of every inch of him sliding over my tongue.

“Fuck,” he groans from above me. I look up to see his eyes burning into me; one hand is grasping the top of the headboard to steady himself as he withdraws and pushes back in.

“More,” he pants, and I wrap my hands around his rear, pulling him closer. My mouth coats him, and I take slow drags of him, enjoying this just as much as he does. He feels like silk across my tongue, and his rapid breathing and low calls of my name, telling me how good I am for him, how much he loves my mouth, make my entire body burn with need for him.

He keeps moving, in and out, in and out. “So fucking good. Look at me,” he begs.

I blink up at his face again, taking in the way his brows have lowered, the way his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, and the way his eyes are watching me. He hits the back of my throat repeatedly, and I notice the way the muscles along his stomach are expanding and tightening, signaling what is next.

As if he can read my mind, he groans. “Fuck, I’m going to come.” His movements pick up and he’s being more forceful now. I squeeze my thighs to relieve some of the pressure and suck harder. I’m surprised when he withdraws from my mouth and comes across my bare chest. With another moan of my name, he leans forward in exhaustion, his forehead pressed against the headboard. I wait patiently for him to catch his breath and lower his body to sit next to me.

His hand reaches over, and to my horror he slowly rubs his hand across the mess he made on my skin. He watches it, transfixed for a moment before meeting my eyes.

“All mine.” He grins cheekily, pressing a soft kiss to my open mouth.

“I—” I stare down at my sticky chest.

“You like it.” He smiles, and I don’t deny it. “It looks good on you.” I can tell by the way his eyes are focused on the shining skin that he really does think that.

“You’re filthy” is all I can think to say.

“Yeah? And so are you.” He nods to my chest and grabs me by the hips to yank me off of the bed.

I squeal, and he covers my mouth with one hand. “Shh, we don’t want an audience while I’m fucking you over the desk, now, do we?”

chapter

one hundred and twenty-eight

HARDIN

The smell of coffee fills my nostrils, and I reach for Tessa, knowing she’s close by. When my search comes up empty, I open my eyes to find two cups of coffee resting on the dresser and Tessa packing her bag.

“What time is it?” I ask her, hoping she says it’s still early.

“Nearly noon,” she says instead.

Fuck, I’ve slept through half the damn day.

“I’ve already packed everything and had breakfast. Lunch will be ready soon,” she tells me with a smile. She’s already showered and gotten herself dressed. She’s wearing those damn jeans again, the tight pair.

I force myself out of bed and try to keep myself from lashing out at her for not waking me earlier. “Cool,” I respond and reach for my pants from the floor . . . only they aren’t on the floor anymore.

“Here.” Tessa hands me the jeans, folded, of course. “Are you okay?” She must sense my hostility.

“I’m fine.”

“Hardin,” she presses. I knew she fucking would.

“I’m okay; the weekend just went too fast, that’s all.”

Her smile is enough to melt the ice that had formed around my mood. “It really has,” she agrees.

I hate this living-separate shit. I hate it so fucking much.

“We only have to get through until Thursday,” she says, trying to make the distance seem less . . . distant.

“What did Karen make for lunch?” I change the subject. “Nothing involving maple syrup, I hope.”

She laughs. “No, no syrup.”

Landon is brooding at the table when we walk into the dining room at the same time as Karen, who’s carrying a tray of sandwiches. Tessa sits down next to Landon, and I watch as she asks him if he’s all right.

“I’m okay, just feeling a little off,” he says.

I never thought I’d see the day he’d lie to her.

“Are you sure, because you’ve been acting so—”

“Tessa . . .” He reaches up, and I swear, if he puts his hand on hers . . . “I’m fine.” He smiles, lowering his hand from the table. I quickly reach for her hand and them on my lap, covered with my own.

The boring table chat fades in and out. I don’t participate, and all too soon it’s time for me to drive Tessa back to Seattle. I’m once again reminded of what a fucking idiot I am for not moving there in the first place.

“I’ll see you again before you leave, right?” Tessa’s eyes water as Landon hugs her goodbye. I look away.

“Yeah, of course. Maybe I’ll come up there to visit you once you’re back from your visit to the queen?” he quips, making her smile. I appreciate his effort, especially since I’m going to be the one she loses her shit on when she finds out that him and Dakota broke up and I kept it from her.

Ten minutes later, I’m practically dragging Tessa’s ass out of the house. Karen is much more upset than you would expect any reasonable person to be, and she tells Tessa that she loves her, which is pretty fucking weird.

“Does it make me a horrible person that I feel more comfortable around your family than my own?” Tessa asks me after fifteen minutes of driving in silence.

“Yes.”

She glares at me, making me roll my eyes at her pretend anger. “Both of our families are fucked up,” I say, and she nods, returning to her silence.

The closer my car gets to Seattle, the stronger the current of anxiety that’s flowing through my chest. I don’t want to spend the entire week away from her. Four days away from Tessa is a fucking lifetime.