Текст книги "After We Fell"

Автор книги: Anna Todd

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 33 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

“Are you shitting me?” Hardin growls, his patience clearly grown thin.

“It’s almost done,” the mechanic assures him before exiting the waiting room just as abruptly as he entered. I don’t blame him.

I turn to Hardin and rise to my feet. “It’s fine; we aren’t in a hurry.”

“He’s wasting my time with you. I have less than twenty-four hours with you, and he’s fucking wasting it.”

“It’s fine.” I walk across the tile floor to stand in front of him. “We’re here together.” I push my hands into the pockets of Christian’s coat, and he presses his lips into a tight line to keep his frown from turning into a smile.

“If they aren’t done within ten minutes, I’m not paying for this shit,” he threatens, and I shake my head at him and bury my head in his chest.

“Don’t apologize to that guy for me either.” He reaches under my chin with his thumb and lifts my head to look into my eyes. “I know you’re planning to.” He places a soft kiss against my lips, and I find myself hungry and anxious for more.

The topics of discussion in the car have proven to be sore spots for us in the past, yet we made the entire drive here without a major blowup. I’m surprisingly giddy over that, or maybe it’s Hardin’s warm arms wrapping around my waist, or his usual minty scent laced with Christian’s cologne that he borrowed.

Whatever it is, I’m aware of the fact that we’re the only people waiting in the small shop, and I’m surprised by Hardin’s affectionateness as he kisses me again; this time his lips press much harder and his tongue swipes out to meet mine. My hands find their way into his hair, and I tug gently at the ends, making him groan and tighten his grip on my waist. He brings my body flush to his, his mouth still claiming mine, until the shrill sound of a bell goes off, making me jump away from him and smooth my hand over my beanie out of nervousness alone.

“Aaaaaall done,” the cigarette-toting man from minutes ago announces.

“About time,” Hardin rudely remarks and pulls his wallet from his back pocket, shooting me a warning glare when I do the same.

chapter

one hundred and three

HARDIN

He wasn’t staring at me,” she says, trying to convince me as we finally reach her car, which I was forced to park in the farthest possible spot away from the restaurant.

“He was panting over his lasagna. There was a line of drool hanging from his chin to prove it.” The man’s eyes were glued to Tessa the entire time that I tried to enjoy our overpriced, oversauced pasta plate.

I want to press it further, but I decide against it. She didn’t even notice the man’s attention; she was too busy smiling and talking with me to give him a second glance. Her smiles are bright and honest, her patience with my annoyed remarks about waiting too long for a table was remarkable, and she seems to always find a way to touch me. A hand on mine, a soft brush of her fingers over my arm, her soft hand brushing the mop of hair off my forehead; she’s constantly touching me, and I feel like a fucking kid on Christmas. If I were to know how being excited on Christmas as a child actually felt.

I turn the heat in the car to the highest setting, wanting to get her warmed up as quickly as possible. Her nose and cheeks are an adorable shade of red, and I can’t help but lean over and run my cold hand across her quivering lips.

“Well, it’s a shame that he’ll be paying so much for drool-filled lasagna then, huh?” She giggles, and I lean over to silence her corny remark by pressing my mouth to hers.

“Come here,” I groan. I gently pull her onto my lap by the sleeves of her purple jacket. She doesn’t protest; instead, she climbs over the small barrier of armrests and onto my lap. Her mouth is steady on mine, and I possessively stake my claim by pulling her body as close to mine as the awkward design of this small car will allow. She gasps when I pull the lever on the seat to cause it to lie back, and her body falls onto mine.

“I’m still sore,” she tells me, and I gently pull away from her.

“I just wanted to kiss you,” I tell her. It’s true. Not that I would turn down making love to her in the front seat of her car, but it wasn’t on my mind at the time.

“I want to, though,” she shyly admits, turning her head slightly to hide from my view.

“We can go home . . . well, to your place—”

“Why not here?”

“Hello? Tessa?” I wave my hand in front of her face, and she looks up at me, bewildered. “Have you seen Tessa around anywhere, because this hormone-addled, sex-crazed woman wiggling in my lap is certainly not her,” I tease, and she catches on, finally.

“I’m not sex-crazed.” She pouts, pushing out her lower lip, and I lean up to catch it between my teeth. Her hips move against me, and I scan the parking lot. The sun has begun to set already, the thick air and cloudy skies making it appear to be even later than it actually is. The parking lot is nearly full of cars, though, and the last thing I want is someone catching us fucking in public.

She pulls her mouth from mine and trails her lips down the column of my neck. “I’m stressed, and you’ve been gone, and I love you.” Despite the blasting heat pouring from the vents, a shiver rakes down my spine, and she reaches between us to palm me through my jeans. “So maybe I’m a little hormonal, it’s almost . . . you know, that time.” She whispers the last two words as if they’re a dirty secret.

“Oh, now I get it.” I grin, concocting vulgar jokes in my mind to tease her with the entire week, the way I always do.

She reads my mind. “Don’t say a word,” she scolds, gently squeezing and kneading my cock while her mouth moves against my neck.

“Then stop doing that before I come in my pants. I’ve already done that too many times since I met you.”

“Yeah, you have.” She bites down on my flesh, and my hips betray me by lifting to meet her torturous swirling movements.

“Let’s go back . . . If someone sees you like this, riding me in the middle of the parking lot, I’d have to kill them.”

Thoughtfully, Tessa glances around the parking lot, surveying the surroundings, and I watch as the realization of our location sinks in. “Fine.” She pouts again and climbs back into the passenger seat.

“Look how the tables have turned.” I wince as her hand cups me again and squeezes.

She sweetly smiles as if she didn’t just make a mild attempt to castrate me. “Just drive.”

“I’ll run every red light so I can get you home and give you your fix,” I tease her.

She rolls her eyes and rests her head against the window.

By the time we reach the next red light, she’s fast asleep. I reach over to make sure she’s still warm; tiny drops of sweat bead her forehead in her sleep, making me cut the heat off immediately. Deciding to enjoy the soft noises of her muted slumber, I take the long way back to Vance’s house.

I GENTLY SHAKE her shoulder to wake her. “Tessa, we’re back.”

Her eyes pop open, and she blinks rapidly to assess her location. “It’s already so late?” she asks, glancing at the clock on her dashboard.

“There was traffic,” I say.

Truth is, I drove around the city, trying to find whatever it is that has her so captivated. It was a lost cause. I couldn’t find it through the freezing air. Or the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Or the drawbridge causing that traffic. The only thing that made sense to me was the sleeping girl in my car. Despite the hundreds of buildings that line and light up the skyline, she’s the only thing that could make this city worth a damn.

“I’m still so tired . . . I think I ate too much.” She half smiles and pushes me away when I offer to carry her to her room.

She lumbers like a zombie through Vance’s house, and the moment her head hits the pillow, she’s asleep again. I carefully undress her and pull the duvet over her half-naked body, laying my worn T-shirt next to her head in hopes that she’ll pull it on when she wakes.

I stare over at her. Her lips are parted slightly, and her arms are wrapped around one of mine like she’s holding a soft pillow instead of a hard arm. It can’t be comfortable for her, but she’s sound asleep, holding on to me as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear.

I think, maybe, if I continue to not be a fuckup during the week, I’ll be rewarded with times like this every weekend, and that’s enough for me to hold on to until she can see how devoted I am to improving myself for her.

“HOW MANY TIMES are you going to call me?” I bark through the line. My phone has been buzzing all night and morning with my mum’s name flashing on the screen. Tessa keeps waking up and, in turn, waking me up. I swear I put the damn thing on silent the last time.

“You should have answered! I have something important to talk to you about.” Her voice is soft, and I can’t remember the last time I spoke to her.

“Get to it, then,” I groan and instinctively lean up to turn the lamp on. The light from the small lamp is much too bright for this early hour, so I tug the string and return the room to its original state of darkness.

“Well, here goes . . .” She lets out a deep breath. “Mike and I are going to be married.” She squeals into the phone, and I move the device from my ear for a moment to save my hearing.

“Okay . . .” I say, expecting more.

“Aren’t you surprised?” she questions, obviously disappointed in my reaction.

“He told me he was going to ask you, and I figured you’d say yes. What is there to be surprised about?”

“He told you?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking at the dark, rectangular shapes of some photos hanging on the wall.

“Well, what do you think about it?”

“Does it matter?” I ask her.

“Of course it matters, Hardin.” My mum sighs, and I sit up fully. Tessa stirs in her sleep and reaches for me.

“I don’t care either way. I was a little surprised, but what do I care if you get married?” I whisper, wrapping my legs around Tessa’s smooth legs.

“I’m not asking for your permission. I just wanted to see how you felt about the whole thing so I could tell you the reason I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“I’m fine with it, now tell me.”

“As you know, Mike thought it would be a good idea to sell the house.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s sold. The new owners won’t be moving in until next month, until after the wedding.”

“Next month?” I rub my temples with my index finger. I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the damn phone this early.

“We were going to wait until next year, but neither of us is getting any younger, and with Mike’s son going off to university, there’s no better time than now. It should start warming up in the next few months, but we don’t want to wait. It may be chilly, but it won’t be unbearable. You’ll come, won’t you? And bring Tessa?”

“So the wedding is next month, or in two weeks?” My brain doesn’t function this fucking early.

“Two weeks!” she responds with glee.

“I don’t think I can . . .” I trail off. It’s not that I don’t want to join the joyous festivities of a requited love and all that shit, but I don’t want to go all the way to England, and I know Tessa isn’t going to come along on such short notice, especially given the state of our relationship right now.

“Why not? I’ll ask her myself if I—”

“No, you won’t.” I cut her off. Realizing that I’m being a little harsh, I backtrack. “She doesn’t even have a passport.” It’s an excuse, but a truthful one.

“She can get one within two weeks if they expedite it.”

I sigh. “I don’t know, Mum, give me a little time to think about it. It’s seven in the damn morning.” I groan and end the call, then realize I didn’t even say congratulations. Fuck. Well, it’s not like she expected it from me necessarily.

From down the hall, I hear someone scavenging through fucking cabinets. I pull the thick duvet over my head to drown out the noise of slamming and the obnoxious beeping of a dishwasher, but the noises don’t abate. The cacophony continues until I guess I just fall asleep in spite of it.

chapter

one hundred and four

HARDIN

It’s a little past eight, and I can see through the living room to the kitchen, where Tessa is fully dressed, eating breakfast with Kimberly.

Shit, it’s Monday already. She has to go to work, and I have to drive back to school. I’ll miss today’s classes, but I couldn’t care less. I’ll have my diploma in less than two months.

“Are you going to wake him up?” Kimberly asks Tessa just as I walk in.

“I’m up.” I groan, still groggy from sleep. I slept more peacefully last night than I have all week. My first night here we were up nearly the entire night.

“Hey.” Tessa’s smile lights up the dim room, and Kimberly covertly slides off the high stool she’s sitting on and leaves us alone. Which means she’s set a new record for not annoying me.

“How long have you been up?” I ask Tessa.

“Two hours. Christian said I could have an extra hour, since you weren’t awake.”

“You should have woken me up earlier.” My eyes greedily rake down her body. She’s dressed in a deep red button-down shirt tucked into a solid black, knee-length pencil skirt. The material hugs her hips in a way that makes me want to bend her over the stool, push her skirt up to reveal her panties—lace panties, perhaps—and take her right here, right now . . .

She calls me out from my thoughts. “What?”

The front door closes, and I’m relieved that we’re finally alone in the massive house.

“Nothing,” I lie and walk over to the half-full coffeepot. “You’d think they’d have a Keurig, rich bastards.”

Tessa laughs at my remark. “I’m glad they don’t. I hate those things.” She leans on her elbows on the kitchen island, and her hair falls down to frame her face.

“Me, too.” I glance around the spacious kitchen and back to Tessa’s chest as she stands up straight. “What time do you have to leave?” I ask. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, blocking my view.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Dammit.” I sigh, and we both bring our coffee mugs to our mouths at the same time.

“You should have woken me up. Tell Vance you’re not coming in.”

“No!” She blows at the steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

“Yes.”

“No,” she says with a firm voice. “I can’t take advantage of my personal relationship with him like that.” Her choice of words sends an unwelcome annoyance through me.

“It’s not a ‘personal relationship.’ You’re staying here because you’re friends with Kimberly, and ultimately because I introduced you to Vance in the first place,” I remind her, fully aware of just how annoyed she gets when I bring this up with her.

Her blue-gray eyes roll back dramatically, and she strides across the rich hardwood flooring, her heels clicking loudly as she passes me. My fingers hook around her elbow, halting her dramatic exit.

I pull her to my chest and press my lips against the base of her throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To my room to grab my bag,” she says. But the heavy rising and falling of her chest completely contradicts her cool tone and cooler gaze.

“Tell him you need more time,” I demand, barely brushing my lips over the flushed skin below her neck. She tries to appear unaffected by my touch, but I know better. I know her body better than she does.

“No.” She makes a minimal effort to pull away, just to be able to tell herself that she did. “I don’t want to take advantage of him. They’re already letting me stay here for free.”

I’m not budging. “I’ll call him, then,” I say. He doesn’t need her at the office today. He already has her three days a week. I need her more than Vance Publishing does.

“Hardin . . .” She reaches for my hand before I can dig into my pocket to retrieve my cell phone. “I’ll call Kim.” She frowns, and I’m surprised and very grateful that she gave in so quickly.

chapter

one hundred and five

TESSA

Kim. Hey, it’s Tessa. I was—”

“Go ahead.” She cuts me off. “I already told Christian you probably wouldn’t be in today.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I—”

“Tessa, it’s fine. We get it.” The sincerity in her voice makes me smile despite my annoyance with Hardin. It’s nice to finally have a female friend. The weight of Steph’s betrayal is something I’m having a hard time lifting from my chest. I look around my temporary bedroom and remind myself that I’m hours away from her, from that campus, from all the friends I thought I had made during my first semester at college, all of them fakes. This is my life now. Seattle is where I belong, and I’ll never have to see Steph or any of them again.

“Thank you so much,” I tell her.

“You don’t have to thank me. Just remember that all the main rooms in the house are under surveillance.” Kimberly laughs. “I’m sure that after the gym incident you wouldn’t forget that.”

My eyes dart up to Hardin as he enters the bedroom.

His expectant grin and the way those dark blue jeans hang low on his hips distract me from Kimberly’s words. I have to scramble to remember what she said only seconds ago.

The gym? Oh God. My blood runs cold, and Hardin stalks toward me.

“Um, yeah,” I mumble, holding my hand up to stop Hardin from coming any closer.

“Have fun.” Kimberly ends the call.

“They have cameras in the gym! They saw us!” I say, panicking.

Hardin shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “They turned them off before they saw anything.”

“Hardin! They know we . . . you know, in their gym!” My hands fly through the air in front of me. “I’m so mortified!” I cover my face with my hands, but Hardin quickly removes them.

“They didn’t see anything. I spoke to them already. Calm down. Don’t you think I would’ve lost my shit if he’d actually seen anything on tape?”

I relax, slightly. He’s right; he would’ve been much more upset than he appears to be right now, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not completely humiliated by the fact that they know, even if they did stop the tape.

But wait, what does “tape” even mean here—everything’s digital. And they could have just said they stopped the cameras but really all they did was just look away . . .

“The footage . . . it’s not saved anywhere or anything, right?” I can’t help but ask the question. My fingertip traces over the small cross tattoo on Hardin’s hand.

Hardin lowers his eyes at me defensively. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Hardin’s . . . old hobbies flash through my mind. “That’s not what I meant,” I say quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“You sure?” he asks. I watch as his features harden and his eyes fill with guilt. “I mean, how would you know what I was worried you were thinking about if you hadn’t already been thinking about it yourself?”

“Don’t,” I say strongly and close the small space between us.

“Don’t what?” he asks.

I can read his thoughts in this moment; I can see him reliving the terrible things he has done. “Don’t do that; don’t go back there.”

“I can’t help it.” He rubs his hand down his face in a slow yet frenzied motion. “Is that what you were thinking? That I knew about the tape, and that I let him watch it?”

“What? No! I would never think that,” I say honestly. “I only connected the tape from the gym to . . . to what happened before when you said something. It just reminded me of that—I never thought you were doing that now.” My fingers wrap around the tattered neckline of his black T-shirt. “I know you would never show anyone a tape of me.” I stare into his eyes, willing him to believe me.

“If anyone ever did something like that to you . . .” He takes a long pause and a deep breath. “I don’t know what I would do to them, even if it was Vance,” he grimly admits. Hardin’s temper is something I’ve grown very familiar with over the last six months.

I stand on my tiptoes so I can look him in the eyes. “It won’t happen.”

“Something terrible almost did, though, only last week with Steph and Dan.” A shudder shakes his shoulders, and I desperately search for the right thing to say to him to pull him out of this dark place.

“Nothing happened.” The irony of my being the one to comfort him now, when the trauma was actually something that happened to me, isn’t lost on me; but this role reversal speaks true to the nature of our relationship and Hardin’s need to blame himself for things he can’t control. Just like his mother, just like me. I can see this now.

“If he had been inside you . . .”

The words bring back vague flashes of memory from that night, images of Dan’s fingers running up my thigh, of Steph pulling at my dress.

“I don’t want to discuss the hypothetical.” I lean into him, and his arms wrap around my waist, caging me, protecting me from bad memories and nonexistent threats.

He glowers. “We’ve barely discussed it at all.”

“I don’t want to. We talked about it enough at my mother’s house, and this is not how I want to spend my newly cleared afternoon.” I give him the best smile I can manage in a failed attempt to lighten the mood.

“I couldn’t bear anyone hurting you like that. I hate the thought of him violating you. It makes me murderous—all I see is red. I can’t handle it.” Hardin’s angry expression has not lightened, only intensified. His green eyes burn into mine, and the rough grip of his fingers tightens on the span of my hips.

“Let’s not talk about it, then. I want you to try and forget it, like I have.” I caress his back with my fingers, gently begging him to forget the whole thing. It won’t do either of us any good to harp on it. It was terrible and disgusting, but I won’t let it rule me. “I love you—I love you so, so much.”

His mouth catches mine, and I wrap my fingers around his arms, pulling him closer to me.

Between breaths, I say, “So focus on me, Hardin. Only on m—”

I’m interrupted by the pressure of his mouth on mine again, possessing me, proving his commitment to both me and himself. His tongue is hard, pushing through my lips to massage mine. Hardin’s fingertips dig into my hips even further, and I whimper as his hands glide up my stomach to my chest. He cups my breasts, and I push into his body harder, filling his greedy hands.

“Show me that it’s only me,” he whispers into my mouth, and I know exactly what he wants, what he needs.

I drop to my knees in front of him and hastily tug at the lone button on his jeans. The zipper proves to be more of a problem, and I briefly consider ripping the jagged metal lining and destroying it altogether. However, I can’t bring myself to do this, considering how hot he looks in the tight blue jeans. My fingertips slowly graze over the light dusting of hair leading from his navel to the waistband of his boxers, and he groans impatiently.

“Please,” he begs, “no teasing.”

I give a small nod and pull down his boxers, letting them pool at his calves atop the bunched-up jeans. Hardin groans once more, this time much louder, much more primal, and I take him into my mouth. Slow movements and flicks of my tongue say the things that I try to instill in his paranoid mind, reassuring him that these acts of pleasure are different from anything someone could force me into.

I love him. I’m aware that what I’m doing now may not be the healthiest way to handle his anger and anxiety, but my need for him is stronger than my moral compass, which, at the moment, is smugly waving a self-help book in front of my face.

“I fucking love that I’m the only man who has had your mouth,” he groans as I use one hand to take what my mouth cannot. “Those lips have only been wrapped around me.” A quick movement of his hips makes me gag, and he reaches down to run his thumb along my forehead. “Look at me,” he instructs.

And I happily comply. I’m enjoying this just as much as he is. I always do. I love the way his eyelids fall closed with each long stroke of my tongue against him. I love the way he grunts and groans when I add more suction.

“Fuck, you know exactly . . .” His head rolls back, and I can feel the muscles in his legs tightening under my hand, which I’ve rested on him to steady myself. “I’m the only man who you’ll ever be on your knees in front of . . .”

I press my thighs together to relieve some of the tension his filthy mouth arouses in me. Hardin uses one hand to steady himself against the wall as my mouth brings him closer and closer to his high. I keep my eyes on his, knowing that it drives him absolutely crazy to watch me as I enjoy pleasuring him so much. His free hand moves down from the top of my head to my mouth, and he runs the pad of his thumb across my top lip, moving in and out of my mouth at a quickening pace.

“Fuck, Tess.” His body goes rigid as he tells me how good it feels, how much he loves me, while he climbs closer to release. I take all of him, moaning while he’s filling my mouth—and he groans, emptying himself on my tongue. I keep sucking, milking every drop of his release as he softly rubs my cheek with his thumb.

I lean into his touch, reveling in its tenderness, and he gently helps me to my feet. The moment I’m standing next to him, he’s pulling me into his arms, hugging me in an intimate gesture that almost overwhelms me.

“I’m sorry for dragging all that shit up,” he whispers into my hair.

“Shh,” I whisper back, not wanting to backtrack to the dark conversation we left behind only minutes ago.

“Bend over the bed, baby,” Hardin says, and it takes me a moment to register his words. He doesn’t give me an opportunity to respond before he’s gently pushing his palm against the small of my back, guiding me to the edge of the mattress. His hands grip my thighs, pushing my skirt up my legs until my entire behind is bared to him.

I want him so badly that it physically hurts. An ache that only he can soothe. As I move to step out of my shoes, he presses his palm against my back again.

“No, leave them on,” he growls.

I groan as my panties are pushed to the side and he slides a finger inside of me. He steps closer, his legs nearly touching mine, his cock softly teasing the back of my legs.

“So soft, baby, so warm.” He adds another finger, and I groan, leaning all my weight onto my elbows on the mattress. My back arches when he finds a rhythm, steadily entering me, dragging his long fingers into and out of me.

“Your sounds are so sexy, Tess,” he coos, closing the gap between our bodies so I feel his hard cock pressing against me.

“Please, Hardin.” I groan, needing him now. Within seconds he fills me in the way that only he has and only he ever will. I lust for him, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming, all-consuming, judgment-altering love that I have for him, and I know deep down—deep in the depth of me that only he and I can see—that it will always be only him.

LATER, AS WE’RE LYING IN bed, Hardin whines, “I don’t want to go,” and in a very un-Hardin-like gesture, he leans his head down and buries it in my shoulder, wrapping his arms and legs around my body. His thick hair tickles my skin. I try to tame it with my fingers, but there is simply too much of it.

“I need a haircut,” he announces, as if answering my thoughts.

“I like it this way.” I gently tug at the damp strands.

“You wouldn’t tell me if you didn’t,” he says, calling me out. He’s right, but only because I couldn’t imagine a hairstyle on Hardin that wouldn’t flatter him. Still, I do happen to love his hair this length.

“Your phone is ringing again,” I point out, and he lifts his head to shoot me a glare. “Something could be wrong with my father, and I’m trying my best not to freak out, and I really want to trust you, so please just answer it,” I rattle out.

“If it’s something with your father, Landon can handle it, Tessa.”

“Hardin, you know how hard it is for me not—?”

“Tessa,” he says to silence me, but then he climbs off the bed and retrieves the vibrating phone from the desk.

“See, it’s my mum.” He holds the screen up so the word “Trish” is clear from where he stands. I really wish he’d listen to me and change her entry to “Mom” in his phone, but he refuses. Baby steps, I remind myself.

“Answer it! It could be an emergency.” I climb off the bed and try to grab the phone from his quick hands.

“She’s fine. She’s been pestering me all morning.” Hardin childishly holds the phone up over my head.

“About what?” I ask him and watch as he turns the power off on the device.

“Nothing important. You know how annoying she can be.”

“She’s not annoying,” I say in Trish’s defense. She’s very sweet, and I love her sense of humor. Something which her son could use more of.

“You’re just as annoying as she is; I knew you would say that.” He grins. His long fingers reach out to tuck my hair behind my ears.

I give him a fake evil eye. “You’re being awfully charming today. Aside from calling me annoying just now, of course.” I’m not complaining, but given our history, I’m afraid that this behavior will disappear when our blissful weekend has ended.

“Would you prefer me to be an asshole?” He raises a brow.

I smile, enjoying his playful behavior, no matter how briefly it lasts.