by Anna Todd
The first day of the new semester went very well, even yoga, which ended up being amusing. Amusing is not my usual preference when it comes to academics, but having Hardin there was nice. My Religion class may be a problem because of the lack of structure, but I’m just going to try to go with the flow so I don’t drive myself insane.
“I have some work to do for a few hours, but I’ll be finished by dinnertime,” Hardin tells me. He’s been working a lot lately. “That hockey game is tomorrow, right?” he asks.
“Yes; you’re still going, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know . . .”
“I need to know because if you flake then I’m going to go with him,” I respond.
Landon would probably much rather I go with him, but the two of them could use some bonding time together. I know they’ll never be friends really, but it would help tremendously if they got along better.
“Fine, fuck. I’ll go . . .” He sighs and climbs into the car.
“Thank you.” I smile and he rolls his eyes.
A half hour later, we pull into his usual spot in the parking lot of our apartment.
“How are your classes?” I ask him. “Hate them all except yoga?” I try to lighten up the mood.
“Yes, except yoga. Yoga was certainly . . . interesting.” He turns to look at me.
“Really? How so?” I chew on my bottom lip in an attempt to appear innocent.
“I think it has something to do with a blonde.” He smirks and I tense.
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t see the hot blonde next to me? You’re really missing out, babe. You should see the way her ass looks in those yoga pants.”
I scowl and open the car door.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Inside. It’s cold in this car.”
“Aw . . . Tess, are you jealous of the girl in yoga?” Hardin teases.
“No.”
“Yes, you are,” he challenges me, and I roll my eyes while I climb out of the car. I’m a little surprised when I hear his boots clomping on the concrete behind me. Pulling the heavy glass door open, I go inside and am at the elevator before I remember that I forgot my bag in the car.
“You’re an idiot.” He chuckles.
“Excuse me?” I look up at him.
“You think I’d be looking at some random blonde when you’re there . . . when I can look at you? Especially in these pants, I am not looking and literally cannot look at anyone else. I was referring to you.” He takes a long stride toward me, and I step back against the cold lobby wall.
I practically pout. “Well, I saw her trying to flirt with you.” I don’t like the way jealousy feels; it is the most obnoxious emotion possible.
“You silly girl.” He takes one more step to bring his body to mine and then leads us into the elevator. Cupping my cheek, he forces me to make eye contact. “How can you not comprehend what you do to me?” he asks, inches away from my mouth.
“I don’t know,” I squeak when his free hand grabs mine and leads it down to his shorts.
“This is what you do.” He shifts his hips so his erection fills my hand.
“Oh.” My head is swimming.
“You’ll be saying much more than ‘oh’—” he begins, but is interrupted when the elevator stops at the next floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans when a woman and her three children step into the elevator.
I try to step away from him, but he wraps his arm around my waist, refusing to let me move. One of the children begins to cry, which makes Hardin huff in annoyance. I begin to imagine how humorous it would be if the elevator stalled and we were trapped inside with the crying child. Fortunately for Hardin, the doors open moments later and we step out into the hall.
“I literally despise children,” he complains as we reach our apartment. When he unlocks the door, cold air flows out from the apartment.
“Did you turn the heat off?” I ask him when we walk inside.
“No, it was on this morning.” Hardin walks over to the thermostat and curses under his breath. “It says it’s eighty degrees in here when it’s clearly not. I’ll call maintenance.”
I nod and grab the blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around myself before sitting down.
“Yes . . . it isn’t working and it’s cold as fuck in here.” Hardin speaks into the receiver. “Thirty minutes? No, that won’t work . . . I don’t give a shit, I pay a small fortune to live here, and I won’t have my girlfriend freezing to death,” he says, then corrects himself: “I won’t have it freezing in here.”
He glances over at me, and I look away. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. No longer,” he barks into the phone and tosses it against the couch. “They’re sending someone up to fix it,” he tells me.
“Thank you.” I smile at him, and he sits down next to me on the couch.
I open the front of the blanket and reach for him. When he scoots closer, I climb onto his lap and thread my fingers through his hair and tug lightly.
“What are you doing?” His hands rest on my hips.
“You said we have fifteen minutes.” I brush my lips along his jaw and he shivers.
I feel his jaw move into a smile. “Are you coming onto me, Tess?”
“Hardin . . .” I whine to prevent him from teasing me further.
“I’m joking, now take your clothes off,” he demands, but his hands lift the bottom of my shirt, contradicting his own command.
chapter sixty-nine
HARDIN
Goose bumps rise on her skin as my fingertips slide down her arms. I know she’s cold, but I would like to think they’re partly caused by me. My fingers wrap around her arms more forcefully when she shifts on my lap, pushing her hips down onto me to create the friction that I want and need. I have never wanted someone so much, so often.
Yes, I have fucked plenty of girls, but that was just about the thrill, about the bragging rights—it was never about being closer to them the way it is with Tess. With her, it’s about the sensation, about the way these small bumps raise on her skin from my touch, the way she’ll complain that having goose bumps makes her have to shave more frequently, and I will roll my eyes at her even though I find it humorous, the way she whimpers when I bring her lip between my teeth and it makes that noise when it snaps back, and, most importantly, the way that we’re doing something that only her and I share. No one has or will ever be close to her in this way.
Her small fingers move to unclasp her bra as I suck on the skin just above the cup.
I stop her. “We don’t have long,” I remind her and she pouts, making me want her even more.
“Then hurry and get undressed,” she softly demands. I love the way she’s becoming more and more comfortable with me as the days pass.
“You know I don’t have to be told twice.” I wrap my hands around her hips and lift her off, moving her over on the couch a bit.
I remove my shorts and boxers before gesturing for her to lie down. As I grab a condom from my wallet on the table, she slides her pants off—those damn yoga pants. I have never, in my entire twenty years of life, seen anything so sexy. I don’t have a fucking clue what it is about them, maybe the way they cling to her thighs, showing every heavenly curve, or maybe because they display her ass perfectly—but either way they’re going to have to become what she wears around the house at all times.
“You have really got to get on birth control; I don’t want to use these anymore,” I gripe and she nods, staring at my fingers while they roll the condom on.
I mean it, though: I’m going to remind her every morning.
Tessa surprises me by pulling my arm in an attempt to force me to sit down on the cushion next to her.
“What?” I ask, catching onto what she’s doing, but I want to hear her say it. I love the innocence she possesses, but I know she’s so much dirtier than she allows herself to admit—another trait that only I am aware of.
She glares at me, and time is short, so
I decide not to taunt her. Instead, I sit down and immediately pull her onto me, wrapping my fingers in her hair and attaching my lips to hers. I swallow the moans and cries coming from her lips as I lower her onto me. We both sigh and her eyes roll back, nearly making me come on the spot.
“Next time will be slow, baby, but this time we only have a few minutes left. Okay?” I groan into her ear as she rotates her full hips.
“Mm-hmm . . .” she moans.
I take that as my cue to pick up the pace. My arms wrap around her back and pull her close to me so that our chests are touching, and I lift my hips at the same time she’s rotating hers. The feeling is indescribable; I can barely breathe as we both move faster. We don’t have long and for once I’m desperate to finish quickly.
“Talk to me, Tess,” I beg, knowing she will be shy, but hoping that if I slam into her hard enough, tug at the ends of her hair hard enough, she will gain the courage to speak to me in a way she has before.
“Okay . . .” She pants and I move faster. “Hardin . . .” Her voice is shaky, and she bites her lip to calm herself, turning me on even more. The pressure begins to build in my stomach. “Hardin, you feel so good . . .” She gains confidence, and I curse under my breath. “You are already whining and I haven’t said anything,” she boasts. Her smug tone brings me to the edge and pushes me over.
Her body trembles and stiffens, and I watch her climax. It’s like she’s just as—if not more—captivating each time she comes. This is why I cannot get enough of her and never will.
A knock at the door brings us both back from our postorgasm, almost sedated state, and she jumps off me in an instant. She grabs her shirt off the floor as I remove the spent condom, and pick up my clothes from the floor.
“Give me a minute,” I call out. Tessa lights a candle and begins to rearrange the decorative pillows on our couch. “What is with the candle?” I ask as I dress and make my way toward the front door.
“It smells like sex in here,” she whispers, despite the fact that the maintenance worker can’t hear her.
She frantically runs her fingers through her hair; my only response is a chuckle and a shake of my head just before I pull open the door. The man on the other side of the door is tall, taller than me, and has a full beard. His brown hair touches his shoulders, and he looks to be at least fifty.
“Heat’s out, right?” his raspy voice asks. He has clearly smoked too many cigarettes.
“Yes, why else would it be twenty degrees in this apartment?” I reply and watch as his eyes land on my Tessa.
Of course she would be bending over to retrieve her cellphone charger from the basket under the table. And of course she would be wearing the fucking yoga pants while doing so. And of course this greasy man with a damn beard would be checking out her ass. And of course she would stand back up and be oblivious to the entire exchange.
“Hey, Tess, why don’t you go in the bedroom until it’s fixed,” I say. “It’s warmer in there.”
“No, I’m okay. I’ll stay out here with you.” She shrugs and sits down on the chair.
My patience is wearing thin, and when she lifts her arms behind her head to tie her hair up and she’s practically giving this asshole a show, it takes everything in me not to drag her into the room.
I must be staring angrily at her, because she looks over at me and then says, “Okay . . .”—clearly puzzled. She gathers her schoolbooks in her arms and stalks into the bedroom.
“Fix the fucking heater,” I snap at the old perv. He gets to work silently—and stays quiet—so he must be smarter than I assumed.
After a few minutes, Tessa’s phone vibrates on the end table, and I take it upon myself to answer it when I see that the screen reads Kimberly. “Hello?”
“Hardin?” Kimberly’s voice is so high-pitched, I have no idea how Christian can stand it. It must be her looks that drew him in. Probably in a club when he couldn’t hear her very well.
“Yes. Lemme get Tess . . .”
I open the bedroom door to find Tessa lying across the bed with a pen between her teeth, her feet kicking in the air behind her.
“Kimberly is on the phone,” I explain, tossing the cell on the bed next to her.
She snatches it up and says, “Hey, Kim! Is everything okay?” A few seconds pass before she says, “Oh no! That’s terrible.” I raise my brow at her, but she doesn’t notice.
“Oh . . . okay . . . let me speak to Hardin about it. It’ll only take a second, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She removes the phone from her ear and covers the bottom with her hand. “Christian caught some sort of stomach flu and Kim needs to take him to the hospital. It’s nothing too serious, but his babysitter isn’t available,” she whispers.
“So?” I shrug.
“They don’t have anyone to watch Smith.”
“Aaaaand you’re telling me this because?”
“She wants to know if we can.” She chews on the inside of her cheek.
There is no way in hell she’s suggesting that she wants to babysit that child. “Can what?”
Tessa sighs. “Babysit, Hardin.”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
“Why not? He’s a good kid,” she whines.
“No, Tessa, this isn’t a day care. Not happening, tell Kim to buy him some Tylenol and some chicken soup and call it a day.”
“Hardin . . . she’s my friend and he’s my boss—who is sick. I thought you cared for him?” she asks and my stomach turns.
Of course I like him, he was there for me and my mum when my father was fucking up, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch his kid when I already have to go to a hockey game with Landon tomorrow. “I said no,” I say, standing my ground. The last thing I need is some annoying kid with a Kool-Aid mustache messing up my apartment.
“Please, Hardin?” she begs. “They don’t have anyone else. Pleeeease?”
I know she’s going to say yes regardless; she’s just entertaining me. I sigh in defeat and watch a smile grow on her face.
chapter seventy
HARDIN
Would you stop griping? You’re behaving worse than he will—and he’s five,” Tessa scolds me, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m just saying, this is all you. He better not touch any of my shit. You agreed to this, so he’s your problem, not mine,” I remind her right as a knock at the door heralds their arrival.
Taking a seat on the couch, I let Tessa be the one to open the door. She glares at me but doesn’t make the guests—her guests—wait long before plastering on her biggest and brightest smile and throwing the door to our place open wide.
Immediately Kimberly starts rambling, practically shrieking. “Thank you so much! You have no idea how much of a lifesaver the two of you are right now. I have no idea what we would have done if you couldn’t watch Smith. Christian is so sick, he’s throwing up everywhere, and we—”
“It’s okay, really,” Tess interrupts her, I assume because she doesn’t want to hear the gory details of Christian’s vomitousness.
“Okay, well, he’s in the car, so I better get going. Smith is pretty independent, he mostly keeps to himself and will let you know if he needs anything.” She moves to the left, revealing a small boy with dirty-blond hair.
“Hey, Smith! How are you?” Tessa says in a strange voice I’ve never heard her use before. This must be her attempt at baby talk, even though the kid’s five. Only Tessa.
The boy doesn’t say anything, just gives her a small smile and walks past Kimberly into the living room.
“Yeah, he doesn’t talk much,” Kimberly tells Tess, noticing the sad look on her face.
As humorous as it is that he didn’t respond to Tessa, I don’t want her to be upset, so the little shit better knock it off and be nice to her.
“Okay, I’m really leaving this time!” Kim smiles and closes the door after giving Smith one last wave.
Tessa bends down a bit and asks Smith, “Are you hungry?”
He shakes his head no.
>
“Thirsty?”
Same response, only this time he takes a seat on the couch opposite me.
“Do you want to play a game?”
“Tess, I think he just wants to sit here,” I tell her and watch as her cheeks flush. I flip through the channels on the television, hoping to find something of interest to keep me occupied while Tessa is babysitting.
“Sorry, Smith,” she apologizes. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
He nods rather robotically, and I realize that he actually looks an awful lot like his father. His hair is practically the exact color, his eyes are the same shade of green-blue, and I suspect that if he were to smile he would have the same dimples as Christian.
A few minutes of awkward silence pass during which Tessa stands next to the couch, and I can see her plans unraveling. She had assumed he would come in here full of energy and ready to play with her. Instead, he hasn’t spoken a single word or budged from his spot on the couch. His outfit is as immaculate as I figured it would be, his small white tennis shoes look as if they have never been worn. When I glance up from his blue polo shirt, his eyes are on mine.
“What?” I ask.
He looks away quickly.
“Hardin!” Tessa groans.
“What? All I did was wonder why he was staring at me.” I shrug and turn the channel from the garbage I’d accidentally stopped on. The last thing I want to watch is the Kardashians.
“Be nice.” She glares at me.
“I am,” I say and shrug my shoulders like what’s the big deal?
Tessa rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m going to make dinner. Smith, do you want to come with me or sit with Hardin?”
I feel his gaze on me, but I choose not to look. He needs to go with her. She’s the babysitter here, not me. “Go with her,” I tell him.
“You can stay in here, Smith, Hardin won’t bother you,” she assures him.
He stays silent. Surprise. Tessa disappears into the kitchen, and I turn the television up louder to avoid any possible conversation with the rug rat, not that that is likely to happen anyway. I’m half tempted to go in the kitchen with her and make him sit alone in the living room.