Chapter Ninety-Six

After We Fell

chapter ninety-six




Hardin’s mouth leaves a trail of moisture up my stomach and along my chest before he finally places a soft kiss on my temple. I lie there on the floor next to him, trying to catch my breath and relive the events leading up to this moment. I had every intention of having a serious conversation with him about his—no, of communication, but watching him angrily assault that punching bag had me gasping and moaning his name within minutes.

    I lean up onto my elbow and look down at him. “I want to reciprocate.”

    “Be my guest.” He grins, his lips coated with my moisture.

    I move quickly, taking him into my mouth before he catches a single breath.

    “Fuck,” he groans. The sensual noise causes my mouth to fall open too far, and he slips out, down across my tongue. Hardin bucks his hips off the floor to meet my lips again, pressing himself inside my mouth again.

    “Please, Tess,” he begs.

    I can taste myself on him, but I barely notice it as he moans my name.

    “I’m not . . . fuck, I’m not going to last long,” he pants, and I speed up. All too soon he tugs my hair and lifts my head back.

    “I’m going to come in your mouth, then take you to the bed and fuck you again.” He runs his thumb over my lips, and playfully, I bite down gently on the pad of his finger. His head falls back, and his grip on my hair tightens as I work my mouth on him.

    I can feel his cock twitching, his legs stiffening as he gets closer. “Fuck, Tessa . . . so good, baby,” he groans as his warmth fills my mouth. I take it all, swallowing all he has to give. Standing to my feet, I wipe at my lips with one finger.

    “Get dressed,” he commands, tossing my bra to me.

    As Hardin and I hastily get dressed, I catch him staring at me time and time again. Not that it comes as all that much of a surprise . . . I haven’t stopped staring at him either.

    “Ready?” he asks.

    I nod, and Hardin turns the lights off, closes the door behind us as if nothing happened in that room, and leads me down the hallway. We walk in comfortable silence, a vast difference from the tension between us earlier. When we reach the part of the hallway just outside my bedroom, he stops me by gently grabbing hold of my elbow.

    “I should have told you about that nightmare instead of distancing myself from you,” he says. The dim night-lights along the floor cast just enough light onto his face to allow me to see the pure honesty and softness behind his eyes.

    “We both just need to learn to communicate.”

    “You’re so much more understanding than I deserve you to be,” he whispers and lifts my hand to his face. His lips press against each of my knuckles, and my knees nearly buckle at the touching gesture.

    Hardin opens the door and takes my hand in his as he leads me to the bed.