“I’m glad.” I quietly admit, my mouth dry.
His eyes are full of amusement. “Have you went wild and gotten yourself a tattoo yet?”
“No.” I swat at him, and he backs up against the counter and reaches for me.
“Are you okay with me touching you this way?”
“Yes,” my mouth confesses before my brain has the time to agree.
He uses one hand to trail his fingers over the top lining of my tank top. “What about like this?”
I nod.
My heart is hammering through my chest to the point I’m convinced that he can hear it. I feel so in tune, so alive and awake, and starved for his touch. It’s been so long, and here he is in front of me, saying and doing the things I used to love so much. Only this time, he is a little more cautious, more patient.
“I’ve needed you so much, Tess.” His mouth is less than two inches from mine; his fingers are drawing slow circles on the bare skin of my shoulders. I feel drunk, my head is cloudy.
When his lips reach mine, I’m dragged back under. I’m taken to that place where only Hardin exists, only his fingers on my skin, only his lips caressing mine, only his teeth nipping at the corners of my mouth, only the soft groans sounding from his throat when I unbutton his jeans.
“Are you trying to use me for sex again?” He smiles against my mouth, pushing his tongue to cover mine so that I can’t respond. “Teasing,” he mumbles and presses his body completely against mine. My arms move around his neck, and my fingers lace through his hair.
“If I wasn’t a gentleman, I would fuck you right here on this counter.” His hands cup both of my breasts, his fingers hooking under the straps of my bra and tank top. “I would lift you up here, slide these hideous pants down your legs, spread your thighs, and take you right here.”
“You said you weren’t a gentleman,” I breathlessly remind him.
“I changed my mind. I’m a half gentleman now,” he teases.
I’m so wound up that I’m beginning to think I may combust and make a mess of the kitchen. I push my hand down his boxers, and my eyes roll back when he says, “Fuck, Tess.”
“A half? What does that mean?” I moan when his fingers slide easily past the loose waist of my pants.
“That means, regardless of how badly I want you, how fucking badly I want to fuck you on this counter and make you scream my name so the entire block knows who is making you come”—he sucks at the skin down the column of my neck—“I won’t be doing any of that until the day you marry me.”
My hands freeze, one down his boxers, and the other on his back. “What?” I croak, clearing my throat.
“You heard me. I won’t be fucking you until you marry me.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Please don’t be serious. He couldn’t be; we have barely spoken in months. He has to be teasing. Right?
“Not even close to joking. No bullshit.” His eyes dance with amusement, and I literally stomp my foot against the tile floor.
“But we aren’t . . . we haven’t even . . .” I gather my hair into one hand and try to make sense of what he’s saying.
“Oh, you didn’t think I would give up so easily, did you?” He leans in and touches his lips to my burning cheek. “Don’t you know me at all?” His smile makes me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.
“But you did give up.”
“No, I’m giving you space just like you forced me to do. I’m trusting your love for me to bring you back to center, eventually.” He raises one brow and brings out that smile and those evil dimples. “You are taking a long-ass time, though.”
What the hell? “But . . .” I am literally at a loss for words.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.” He laughs and lifts his hands to cup my cheeks. “Will you sleep on the couch with me again? Or will that be too tempting for you?”
I roll my eyes and follow him into the living room, trying to understand how any of this could possibly make sense to him, or to me. There are so many things to talk about, so many questions, so many answers.
But for now, I’m going to fall asleep on the couch with Hardin and pretend that everything could be right in my world for once.
Chapter seventy
TESSA
Good morning, baby,” I hear from somewhere nearby.
When I open my eyes, black ink in the shape of a swallow is the first thing I see. Hardin’s skin has a deeper tan than ever before, and the muscles across his chest are much more prominent than they were when I last saw him. He’s always been incredibly good-looking, but he looks better than ever now, and it’s the sweetest form of torture to be lying here, against his bare chest, with one of his arms wrapped around my back and the other lifting to brush the hair back from my face.
“Morning.” I rest my chin on his chest, giving me the perfect angle to admire his face.
“Sleep well?” His fingers are gently gliding over my hair, and his smile is still perfectly in place.
“Yes.” I close my eyes for a moment to clear my brain, which has suddenly turned to mush at the sound of his raspy, sleepy voice. Even his accent feels more intense, more distinct. Damn him.
Without another word, he rests the tip of his thumb on my lips.
I open my eyes when I hear Landon’s bedroom door open, and when I move to sit up, Hardin wraps his arms tighter around me. “No, you don’t.” He laughs. He pushes up from the couch and lifts his body, bringing mine with it.