I huff and follow him back to this room. When the door closes he turns around and backs me up against the door.

He looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry.” He pushes his hips against mine and puts one of his arms against the door close to my head so I can’t move.

“Me, too,” I whisper.

“I just . . . I lose my temper sometimes. I didn’t really sleep with those girls. Well, not all three of them.”

I feel a little relieved but not completely.

“My first instinct when I get angry is to come back even harder, to hurt the other person as much as I can. But I don’t want you to leave, and I’m sorry for scaring you by beating the shit out of Dan. I am trying to change, change for you . . . to be what you deserve, but it’s hard for me. Especially when you do things to purposely piss me off,” he says. He brings his hand to my cheek and wipes the drying tears left there.

“I wasn’t scared of you,” I say.

“Why not? It seemed like you were when I grabbed the towel.”

“No . . . well, I was a little when you grabbed the towel, because of the stain on the floor. But really I was more afraid for you when you were fighting Dan.”

“Afraid for me?” He puffs his shoulders up a little and brags, “He didn’t get a hit on me.”

I roll my eyes. “I meant that you would end up killing him or something. You could get in a lot of trouble for assaulting him,” I explain.

Hardin chuckles. “Let me get this straight: you were worried about the legal repercussions of our fight?”

“Stop laughing. I’m still mad at you,” I tell him and cross my arms. I’m not exactly sure what I am upset about except him telling me to leave.

“I am still pissed at you, too, but you’re very amusing.” He presses his forehead against mine. “You drive me crazy,” he says.

“I know.”

“You never listen to me and you always fight me on everything. You are stubborn and borderline intolerable.”

“I know,” I repeat.

“You provoke me and cause me a shitload of unnecessary stress, not to mention you almost made out with Dan right in front of me.” His lips touch my neck and I shiver.

“You say the most annoying things and you act like a child when you’re mad.” Despite the insults he is throwing at me—complaints about things that, deep down, I think he really enjoys about me—my stomach is fluttering as he kisses my skin and continues his light verbal assault. He pushes his hips against mine again, more forcefully this time.

“But all that being said . . . I also happen to be vigorously in love with you,” he says and sucks harshly on sensitive skin below my ear.

I push my hands through his hair, making him groan, and he puts both of his hands on my waist, pulling me to him. I know there are more things to be said, more problems to be solved, but right now all I want is to get lost in Hardin and forget about tonight.

Chapter eighty-five

In what feels like a desperate attempt to be closer to me as we kiss, Hardin moves a hand to the back of my neck. I can sense all of his anger and frustration being transferred into lust and affection—his mouth is hungry and his kisses sloppy as he walks backward with our lips still attached. He guides me with one hand on my hip and the other behind my head, but I trip over his feet and stumble just as his legs reach the end of his bed, causing both of us to fall back onto it. In an attempt to wrestle control from him, I straddle his torso and pull my sweatshirt and tank top over my head at the same time, leaving me in my lacy bra. His eyes widen and he tries to pull me down to kiss him, but I have other plans.

Reaching behind my back, my rushed fingers find my bra clasp and I unsnap it before pulling the straps down my shoulders and letting it drop to the bed behind me. Hardin’s hands are warm as he reaches up and cups my breasts in his large palms, kneading them roughly. Grabbing his wrists, I remove his hands from my skin and shake my head. His head tilts in confusion before I climb down his body and unbutton his pants. He helps me tug them down to his knees along with his boxers. My fingers immediately grip his length—he gasps, and when I look at his face his eyes are closed. I pump slowly before dipping down and bravely taking him into my mouth. I try to remember his instructions from last time and repeat the things that I know he liked.

“Fuck . . . Tessa,” he pants and wraps his hands into my hair. This is the longest he has been silent during any sexual experience we have shared, and I realize much to my own amusement that I missed his dirty words.

I move my body while continuing to please him and end up between his knees.

He sits up and watches me. “You look so sexy like this, with that smart mouth of yours wrapped around me,” he says and grips my hair harder.

I feel the heat gathering between my legs and move my head faster, wanting to hear him moan my name again. My tongue laps around the tip of him and he lifts his hips slightly off the bed, pushing himself down my throat. My eyes begin to water and I can barely breathe, but hearing my name fall from his lips over and over again makes it that much better. Seconds later, he removes his hands from my hair and cups my face, stopping me from moving further. The metallic scent of his bloody knuckles hits my nose, but I ignore the reflex to pull away.

“I’m going to come . . .” he tells me. “So if there is anything else you . . . you know, want to do before then, you should stop blowing me.”

I don’t want to speak, to give away how desperate I am to have him make love to me, so I simply stand up and slide my jeans down my legs and step out of them. When I begin to remove my panties Hardin’s hand reaches out and stops me.