Before

When she started pressuring him for labels and proofs of commitment, he panicked. He felt like a wild animal being cornered and trapped. His cage was honesty, and she threatened to lock him away without a key. He couldn’t lose her, but with each day it grew harder to keep her. She turned the tables on him, questioning things he thought she would never catch on to. When she wanted more, she demanded it, taking nothing but yes for an answer, but when he wanted more, she pushed against it, excuse after excuse.

This could never work, Hardin—we’re so different. First off, you don’t date, remember?” she fires at me. She steps away from me, and I hope she doesn’t try to leave my father’s house. It feels like all we talk about anymore is the future. Marriage, living together, breaking up, not breaking up. Tessa feels pressure to plan her whole life, but I don’t. At this point I think it’s common knowledge that I don’t handle this type of pressure well. Regardless, she keeps pushing for me to be better and better for her.

“We aren’t that different—we like the same things; we both love books, for example,” I tell her.

I always have to defend myself to her. “You don’t date,” she mocks me.

“I know, but we could… be friends?”

Friends? Really, Hardin?

Frustration glows in her eyes. “I thought you said we couldn’t be friends? And I won’t be friends with you—I know what you mean by that. You want all the benefits of being a boyfriend without actually having to commit.”

I let go of her body and lose my footing. I quickly balance myself. “Why is that so bad? Why do you need the label?” I’m thankful for the space between us and the fresh, scotch-free air.

“Because, Hardin, even though I haven’t really had a lot of restraint lately, I do have self-respect. I will not be your plaything, especially when it involves being treated like dirt.” Exasperated, she throws her hands into the air. “And besides, I’m already taken, Hardin.”

She’s using that bloke as an excuse? Oh, come on! Who is she trying to kid here?

“And yet look where you are right now,” I say dryly.

She’s dangling her boyfriend over my head, taunting me with him and complaining when I do the same with Molly. She sees no double standard here, and the liquor is making it seem even worse tonight. I’m smart enough to know this, but dumb enough to stop myself from being a dick. I’m also liquored up enough to not give a fuck about much of anything. I shattered my father’s dining room into tiny pieces.

Her mouth twists into a menacing frown, teeth bared and all. “I love him and he loves me.”

Her words slice at my chest. The last ones hit the bone. I move away from her and knock into the chair. Fuck my lack of balance.

“Don’t say that to me.” I raise a hand as if it could guard me from her words.

She doesn’t back down; she’s full-fledged pissed the fuck off and fully intending to go straight for the throat here. “You’re only saying this because you’re drunk; tomorrow you’ll go back to hating me.”

Hating her? Hating her? As if I could possibly hate her?

I back away in frustration and try to focus on how green the trees are here because of all the rain. “I don’t hate you,” I finally say. “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me to leave you alone and never speak to you again, I will listen.” I don’t want to hear her say these words—they would kill me—but if she felt that way, if she wanted me to back off, I’d back off. “I swear, from this point on I will never come near you again. Just say the words.”

I try to imagine my life if she left. She would take with her all the color I’ve worked on painting into my life.

Before she can answer, I continue: “Tell me, Tessa, tell me that you never want to see me again.” I can’t imagine it. I step even closer and reach out to run my fingers over her bare arms. Gooseflesh rises on her skin, and her lips part.

I lean closer and whisper, “Tell me you never want to feel my touch again.” I press my fingers to her neck and gently drag the tips down the length of it, then along her collarbone. She’s practically heaving now, unable to speak. I lean even closer, my face barely an inch away from hers. I can feel the electricity under her skin; the faint hum distracts us both. “That you never want me to kiss you again…” I lower my voice, and she trembles.

“Tell me, Theresa.” I push for the words that I don’t want to come from her lips.

I barely hear her when she says my name, but I feel her breath puff against my lips.

“You can’t resist me, Tessa, just as I can’t resist you.” She looks hesitant but not appalled by this statement. “Stay with me tonight?” I ask her against her lips.

Tessa’s eyes dart from mine to the house, and she pulls away. I turn to see what caused her to freak out. I don’t see anything. She says she has to go.

No, she can’t go. I’m not ready to be in this house alone yet. I can’t believe I’m going to stay here.

“Fuck,” I mumble, running my fingers over my hair. “Please, please stay. Just stay with me tonight, and if you decide in the morning to tell me you don’t want to see me anymore…” I don’t want this to be an option, but sadly it is. “Just please stay. I am begging you, and I don’t beg, Theresa.”

I’ve never begged in my life. Is it the liquor or is it her that makes me so crazy? I can’t tell.

Tessa nods, her eyes shining under the light. “And what will I tell Noah?” His name throws a wrench into my side, reminding me that she’s only temporarily mine. I need more time with her. “He’s waiting for me, and I have his car,” she explains.

She left him back at her room? For me?

I don’t know what to make of this. Did they break up? Does he know that she’s here with me? I wonder if the boy even knows my name. It drives me fucking insane that I don’t know how involved she is with me emotionally. Steph won’t tell me shit, and Tessa gives even less away.

Does she really care so much about what her boyfriend thinks? I stare at the back of the house. The green vines are taking over the brick wall. The lights are so bright. I suspect that the reality of what she’s been doing must be hitting her. “Just tell him that you have to stay because… I don’t know. Don’t tell him anything. What’s the worst thing he can do?”

I’m curious as to why Noah seems to have so much control over her. She sighs; her bottom lip puffs out and she looks genuinely worried. What could be so bad… he would tell her mummy on her? She’s eighteen now—doesn’t she know that?

“He’s probably asleep, anyway,” I say. It’s true; he’s still on high school curfew.

Tessa shakes her head. I lean back against the ledge of the deck. “No, he has no way to get back to his hotel.”

Hotel? This kid is staying at a fucking hotel? Is he even old enough to rent a room on his own? “Hotel? Wait—he doesn’t stay with you?” I’m baffled.

“No, he has a hotel room close by.” Tessa’s eyes drop to the wooden deck floor and she shuffles her feet. She’s uncomfortable.

“And you stay there with him?”

“No, he stays there,” she quietly responds, looking embarrassed. She keeps her eyes on the ground and continues, “And I stay in my room.”

No fucking way. Does he even like her? Does he like women at all? I mean, come on, look at her! “Is he straight?” I can’t help but ask. There’s no way he is. Unless he’s cheating on her, which would be fucked up—but would help my case tremendously.

Not that she’s not doing the same thing to him.

Tessa’s mouth pops open in horror. “Of course he is!”

It’s insane to me that she doesn’t see anything weird about her boyfriend not wanting to stay with her. “Sorry, but something is not right there. If you were mine, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you. I would fuck you every chance I had.” It’s true. I would wake her up every morning with my face buried between her thighs. I would put her to bed every night by blowing her mind and making her scream my name.

A blanket of redness flushes down Tessa’s face, and she looks away from my eyes. I love the way my words affect her. The darkness is giving me a headache. The trees are moving too much, their trunks twisting in unnatural ways. Also, I want to be inside, alone with her. Especially after the night I’ve had.

I turn to Tessa and can’t keep my eyes off her parted lips. “Let’s go inside. The trees are swaying back and forth. I think that’s my cue that I’ve had way too much to drink.”

Tessa looks at the house and back to me. “You’re staying here?”

I nod and reach for her hand. She’s staying here, too. I still can’t believe I’m staying in Ken’s house after the shit that man pulled. “Yeah, and so are you. Let’s go.” I take her hand before she can fight me again.

We walk into the house, and she tries to move her hand from mine by walking faster than me. I take a longer step as we pass through the kitchen.

Some of the mess is still there on the floor. Many of the shattered pieces of porcelain are now overflowing the bin, and most of the glass has been swept off the floor. Good, Landon can clean up this mess. He’s getting my fucking dad, after all. Truth is, he already has him. Someone or something other than me has always had Ken Scott. The scotch, the bars, Karen, Landon, this big house. He spreads himself so thin, yet had no room for me in his life until the last year, and he thinks I’m just going to be okay with that shit? No fucking way.

I tighten my hold on Tessa’s hand as we walk through the house and up the stairs. If I remember correctly, the room we’re going to is the last one in the hallway upstairs. There are so many fucking doors up here. We wouldn’t want to walk into Landon’s room and find him wanking.

We finally reach the door at the end. Tessa has been quiet during the walk, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to push her too much, and I’m still trying to stop thinking about my sperm donor being a fuckup.

The room behind the door is dark. I struggle for the light switch.

“Hardin?” Tessa whispers in the darkness.

The curtain is open slightly, allowing a little bit of moonlight to come through. I let go of Tessa’s hand and step farther inside. This damn light switch is impossible to find. I continue to run my hand over the smooth wall but find nothing.

What the fuck?

I can see the outline of a table, possibly a lamp, on the other side of the room, so I blindly move toward it. The toe of my boot catches on something solid, and I nearly fall to the ground. “Fuck!” I curse at the object. This room probably doesn’t even have a goddamn light; Ken and Karen likely just wanted to fuck with me.

When I get to the table, my fingers feel for a lampshade. Bingo! “I’m right here,” I tell Tessa as I pull on the chain. The bulb clicks on, and the startlingly strong light from such a small lamp blinds me. I blink a few times and look around the room. My room.

My room that I’ve never used. Ever.

The bedroom reminds me of some gaudy-ass hotel. The walls are painted a light gray, with crisp white trim along the ceiling and floorboard. The carpet even has those lines vacuumed into it. The bed against the back wall is disgustingly big, with a mountain of decorative pillows piled at the expansive cherrywood headboard. The only reason a bed this big would ever be necessary is if Tessa was lying naked in the center of the dark gray duvet. Unfortunately for me, she’s not. She’s standing next to a desk that matches the bed and holds a brand-new Mac desktop. Showy motherfuckers.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “This is my… room.” I don’t know what else to say about it.

Tessa pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and asks, “You have a room here?”

It doesn’t feel like my room, not in the least bit, but technically it is. Ken has told me multiple times about the room here that’s only for me. Like I’m supposed to be impressed by the four-poster bed or the giant computer monitor. “Yeah… I haven’t ever actually slept in it… until tonight,” I uncomfortably explain. I hope she doesn’t ask any more questions, but I know she will.

There’s a bulky storage bin at the end of the bed that I’m assuming has a single purpose: to hold the overabundance of pillows. I make it more useful by sitting down on it and taking my boots off. Tessa watches me, probably compiling a list of questions to ask, like the nosy little thing she is. I pull my socks off and tuck them into my boots. I have a few small cuts on my ankle. Some of the shards apparently got into my shoe. Fucking great.

Tessa must have finished her list. She takes a step closer and opens her mouth. “Oh. Why is that?”

I take a breath and decide to answer her instead of giving her shit about it. “Because I don’t want to. I hate it here,” I reply with honesty. I do hate it here. I hate that my bed at my mum’s house in England had a stained mattress and the same sheet and duvet since I was a kid.

While Tessa processes my truthful answer and formulates her next question, I unbutton my pants and pull them down. Tessa’s eyes go from distant to wide and alert within two seconds of me standing in my boxers in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Getting undressed?” I say, raising my pierced brow to her. I know she likes to ask questions, but why do so many of them have to be so unnecessary?

“I mean, why?” She stares at the crotch of my boxers. If she’s trying to be subtle and pretend she isn’t thinking about my cock right now, she’s failing miserably.

My eyes meet hers. “Well, I’m not sleeping in skinny jeans and boots.” My hair falls down my forehead and I push it back.

“Oh,” Tessa quietly says.

I wait for her to say something further, but she doesn’t. I watch her eyes as I pull my shirt over my head. Her stare moves from my neck down to my stomach, taking in every line of black ink. She focuses the longest on the tree tattooed there. I wonder if she likes it or if this part of me is unattractive to her. Her focus on me makes me uneasy. I don’t know what to do while she’s inspecting me for damage. Each inch of my skin that her eyes touch rises with gooseflesh. Instead of the burning I always read about, I feel the slow blowing of an icy breath.

Tessa is still staring, still focused only on my body. I surprise her by tossing my shirt at her. She’s too entranced by me to catch it quick enough. I wonder what it would take to get her naked so I can inspect her body, with my eyes steady on her, taking in every inch, every blemish that she’s insecure about but I won’t see.

I wish I knew what she was thinking. I wish I knew her better. I find myself wishing that I could have known her in a different way. She could have been my neighbor who stops by and borrows things, and I could ask her as many questions as I want. I would ask her why she asks so many questions, why she always scrunches her eyebrows up when she’s confused, or mad. I would ask her what she wants to do with her life. I would ask her how she’d feel if she didn’t get to see me again. I would ask her if she could possibly find forgiveness and grant it to me.

But this is reality, and in reality, I’m still a stranger to her. She barely knows anything about me, and if she knew half of the fucked-up shit I’ve done, she wouldn’t be so intrigued. My tattoos, or her reaction to them, would fade, and her response to my attitude would turn from sarcastic to venomous. I have to be careful with this, because if my mystery disappears, she will, too.

Fuck, all of this makes my head spin. My buzz is fading, and my head is starting to fuck me up. I need to lighten this shit up really quickly. “You can sleep in that.” I smile at her. “I assume you won’t want to sleep in just your underwear. But of course, I’m perfectly fine with it if you do.”

“I’m fine sleeping in this,” she says in the most unconvincing tone I’ve ever heard. She doesn’t want to sleep in her bulky skirt and baggy shirt. I quite like her shirt; the light blue color goes well with her eyes. I’ve never had a thought like that before… It goes well with her eyes? What does that even mean?

She’s messing me up more than the scotch tonight.

“Fine. Suit yourself; if you want to be uncomfortable, go ahead.” I step closer to the bed and grab the first pillow I touch and throw it onto the floor.

Tessa looks offended by this. Or maybe she’s offended that I’m half naked. I don’t know. She walks to the foot of the bed and opens the ugly chest. “Oh, don’t throw those on the floor. They go in here,” she tells me, as if I didn’t know that. Does she think I’ve never seen these types of pillows before? Does she think because I had a single mum that I don’t know how to put overpriced bundles of cotton into a box?

No, Hardin, she’s only trying to help… I try to talk myself down. My mind always goes straight for the worst possible interpretation, and I fucking hate it. My insecurities are eating me alive. I grab another, even frillier pillow and throw it onto the carpet. She groans, complaining while she bends down to pick it up.

While Tessa plays Molly Maid, I pull back the duvet and climb into the bed. It’s never been slept in before, I can tell. It feels like lying on clouds. It’s even better than a hotel. I watch Tessa watch me as I cross my arms behind my head. She’s always watching me. I’m always watching her.

I cross my ankles as she shoves the last pillow into the chest and closes the top. Neat freak, she is.

Is she going to stand there all night? I would rather that she peel off her baggy clothes and climb into bed with me. “You’re not going to whine about sleeping in the bed with me, are you?”

“No, the bed is big enough for both of us.” Her smile shows no nerves, but her shaking hands picking at her nails do. She’s being playful now. I love it.

“Now, that’s the Tessa I love,” I joke. Her eyes widen slightly, and I push the reason why away from my mind. Not today—not going anywhere near that thought today.

Awkwardly, Tessa climbs onto the bed after slipping off her shoes. She stays fully dressed, and she remains at the edge of the king-size bed, as far away from me as possible. She lies down, and I consider scooting closer to her, but I’m afraid she’ll get spooked and fall off the bed. As I’m picturing her falling to the floor, I laugh, and she turns around to face me.

“What’s so funny?” She’s doing that thing with her eyebrows again. She’s so fucking cute.

“Nothing,” I lie. I don’t think telling her that I was picturing her take a tumble will help my case tonight. Still, I can’t help but laugh as she pouts.

“Tell me!” She looks up for a second and then deliberately pops out her bottom lip. Despite her fake pouting, or maybe because of it, her lips are so fuckable. I can’t wait to feel them take a slow drag down the shaft of my cock. Thinking about her head bobbing up and down on me has me pulling my lip ring between my teeth. The metal is cold on my warm tongue.

I roll onto my side and face her while I ask, “You’ve never slept in a bed with a guy before, have you?” For that matter, I haven’t slept in a bed with a girl before either. It wasn’t my thing. I don’t know if it is now, but so far so good.

I’m relieved when she answers, “No.” I smile to show her how I feel about being the first guy she’s slept in a bed with. I love that she has so much left of her to be claimed. In some ways, I have so much left of me to give her, too.

Tessa is facing me, lying only a few feet away from me. She’s still dressed in her heavy clothing, and it’s driving me insane. She lifts her hand between us and touches the dimple on my right cheek. It’s such a simple, yet tender thing to do. No one, not even my mum, has touched me on the face in at least ten years. Even during sex, sometimes I kiss girls, but I don’t let their fingers linger on my body.

I make eye contact with her and register her panic. She pulls away, but I grab her hand and put it back to my cheek. It feels good, having her touch me. Her touch is so gentle. I want her to touch me everywhere. “I don’t know why no one has fucked you yet; all that planning you do must help you put up a really good resistance,” I tease her. There has to be a reason she’s so inexperienced. It’s just not realistic that she would have absolutely no experience without a good reason for it.

“I’ve never really had to resist anyone,” she says. I don’t believe her words, but I believe her eyes. Still, it’s just so hard to have faith.

“That’s either a lie or you went to an all-blind high school.” I look at her pretty mouth. “Your lips alone are enough to make me hard.” It’s true. She could easily reach down and feel the proof of my words. I almost tell her that, but I don’t want to ruin the moment.

Tessa satisfies me by gasping at my filthy words. I laugh and think of all the ways I can drive her fucking wild. She’s like driving a brand-new car, the excitement you feel when hearing the engine’s low purr for the first time. I want to make her purr—I would make her scream if Landon wasn’t here. I want to take this slow tonight, but I want to show her more than what I did at the stream. That was only one of my many tricks.

I lick my lips and take Tessa’s hand in mine, bringing both of our hands to my mouth. She inhales a sharp breath, and I pull her hand along my wet lips. Her hands are shaking when I single out her index finger and gently bite down on the pad. She moans on instinct, and my cock twitches in my boxers. Tessa’s hands are warm as I guide them down my neck. It feels so good to be touched, the level of high that I feel clouding my senses. The liquor has mostly worn off, and now I’m completely trashed off of a stubborn, sexy blonde. Tessa pulls her hand away, and I drop my own hand onto my lap. Her fingertips trace the ivy inked along the bottom of my neck. I can’t concentrate on anything except for the cool, calm trail she’s leaving behind on my skin.

After a few seconds of silence, I speak up. I’m curious and horny, and I’m going to have fun with her. I bring my hand back to hers. “You like the way I talk to you, don’t you?”

I stare at her until her chest begins to rise faster and faster. She breaks eye contact with me, and I continue: “I can see the blush in your cheeks, and I can hear the way your breathing has changed. Answer me, Tessa—put those full lips of yours to use.” I wish she would do this in more ways than one. She stays silent. Man, I thought I was stubborn. I move closer to her and take her wrist between my fingers. Tessa looks so flustered, pink taking over skin. She’s addicting.

Just when I think she’s going to speak up about her attraction to me, she says, “Can you turn the fan on?” Really, Theresa? She thinks I’m a sucker already? That I’m just going to climb out of this comfortable bed where she’s lying so close to me. I look at her face, her gray eyes. “Please?” she whispers, still looking at me. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m climbing out of the bed. Damn, she’s good.

She looks pretty smug when I glance back to the bed. She also looks ridiculously uncomfortable in those heavy clothes. Her skirt is made up of as much material as the duvet. “If you’re hot, why don’t you change out of those heavy clothes; that skirt looks itchy, anyway.”

Tessa smiles at me, rolling her eyes.

I’m serious, though… she dresses terribly. “You should dress for your body, Tessa. These clothes you wear hide all of your curves.” I look at what I can see of her chest, which is barely anything. “If I hadn’t seen you in your bra and panties, I’d never have known how sexy and curvy your body actually is. That skirt literally looks like a potato sack.”

She laughs at me. That went better than expected. “What do you suggest I wear? Fishnets and tube tops?” She raises her brow and waits for an answer.

Tessa in a tube top and short denim shorts flashes in my mind. “No, well, I might love to see that, but no. You can still cover yourself, but wear clothes your size. That shirt hides your chest, too, and your tits are nothing you should be hiding.”

“Will you stop using those words!” She shakes her head, and I laugh as I climb back into bed with her. I don’t know how close to lie, so I slowly inch nearer until I’m practically touching her. She sits up and gets out of the bed. My chest burns.

“Where are you going?” I ask, hoping I didn’t piss her off enough to leave.

She walks across the room in quick steps. “To change.” She bends down and picks up my dirty T-shirt from the floor. I smile, happy that she likes to wear it as much as I like for her to.

“Now, turn around and don’t peek,” she says as if I’m a child. She knows damn well I’m going to look.

“No.” I shrug and she glares at me.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” she asks, frustrated.

I’m honest when I tell her, “I won’t turn around. I want to see you.”

She agrees but then betrays me by flicking off the light. What a tease! I groan, loving the flirty game she’s playing. I whine loudly, to let her know that I’m not going to play fair if she isn’t. I hear heavy fabric fall to the floor—the skirt. I pull the chain for the light, and Tessa jumps at the brightness. She gasps my name like it’s a curse word: “Hardin!”

I continue to stare at her, from her legs to her eyes and back down again. She takes a deep breath and raises her arms to put my shirt on. Tessa’s bra is plain white cotton with very little padding. Not that she needs any. Her panties match; the cut covers nearly her entire ass. Her ass is perfect. Round and perky… I would love to take her there, too.

“Come here,” I whisper. I can’t wait another second to touch her body. Tessa’s walking toward the bed, turning the room into a goddamn burlesque show, and I fucking love it. I need a better view. I move up to the headboard and rest my back flat against it. Tessa flushes under the heat of my stare, and it makes my pleasure all the greater.

When she reaches me, she puts her small hand into mine and I pull her to me. She straddles my body, her knees resting at my sides. I love having her like this. My imagination is going fucking wild. Tessa holds herself up, keeping her body from touching mine. I don’t think so. I gently grip her hips and guide her down onto my body. She bites down on her lip, and her eyes meet mine. I look away first because I can feel the boner coming from a mile away. Tessa’s legs are so soft and the way my shirt is lifted up to her hips is so sexy.

I smile at her, admiring how good she feels and looks. “Much better.” I wait for her to smile back, but she doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?” I gently stroke at her cheek, making her smile. Her eyes close, and I wonder if this is breaking the rules of the Bet somehow. I think I’m beyond that at this point.

“Nothing… I just don’t know what to do,” Tessa says. When she won’t meet my eyes, I know she feels embarrassed.

I don’t want there to be a lot of pressure on her. Any way that she touches me is going to be enjoyable. I don’t know how to explain any of this without actually showing her. “Do whatever you want to do, Tess. Don’t overthink it.”

Tessa raises her hand and seems to be about to touch my bare chest. When she doesn’t touch me, I look up at her. She looks into my eyes for permission to touch me. No one has done that before, either. I nod, nervous but excited, and watch her. Her index finger slowly drags down my stomach to the waist of my boxers. I try to stay still even though I want to grab her wrist, flip her over, and fuck her into the mattress. I close my eyes and feel her finger trace over my tattoos. I like when she does this.

When she pulls her hand away, I open my eyes. I need more. I’m an addict.

“Can I… um… touch you?” Tessa is hesitant as she stares at the bulge in my boxers.

Fuck yes! I want to shout at her. Instead, I stay as calm as possible. Nodding, I beg, “Please.”

Tessa looks nervous as she lowers her hand to my crotch. She hovers over my growing length before barely touching it. She lowers her hand a little more and continues to feel it out. Her fingers are gentle as she drags them up and down my cock, making me grow for her.

“Do you want me to show you what to do?” I suggest. I want her to be comfortable.

When Tessa nods her head, I gently place my hand over hers. My hands are so much larger than hers that her fingertips barely pass my knuckles. I bring both of our hands down my body and stop over my boxers. I help her grip my cock in her hand. She gently squeezes, and I moan and let go of her hand. She’s got this. The look on her face when she realizes she has complete control is so filthy but trying to play innocent. Her pupils are blown out, her lips are parted, and her cheeks are rosy.

“Fuck, Tessa, don’t do that,” I mutter. I’m going to explode if she gets that expression on her face again.

Tessa, taking me at my word, stills her hand. Fuck, I forgot how literal she can be.

“No, no, not that. Keep doing that—I mean don’t look at me that way,” I clarify.

Tessa bats her lashes in the most naive way. “What way?”

“That innocent way—that look that makes me want to do so many dirty things to you.” So, so many things, Theresa.

She’s nervous as she moves her hand on me. Her grip isn’t as tight as it could be, but I don’t want to point that out. She’ll get the hang of it on her own. I’ll sure as hell help her figure it out. She’s chewing on her lip as her slow strokes make me moan her name under my breath. If I could have one thing forever, this would be it.

“Fuck, Tess, your hand feels so good wrapped around me,” I moan. My words encourage her, but maybe a little too much. She squeezes me, and a soft rush of pain shoots through me. “Not that hard, baby.” I gently guide her, careful not to embarrass her.

She kisses me and continues in slow strokes. “Sorry,” she whispers against my neck as she touches her lips to my skin. She moves her tongue up my neck to the base of my ear. Fuckkkk, that feels so fucking good. I need to touch her; I’m not going to last long.

My hands find her chest, and her bra feels like a wall between her body and me.

“Can I. Take. Off. Your… bra?” I beg. I want to feel her sexy body. Reaching under her shirt, I can feel her perfect breasts: round and full. Tessa nods, breathless. My hands shake as I quickly unclasp the hooks and let her breasts fall. I pull the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. It requires a lot of control for me not to rip her bra off. Tessa takes her hands from me so I can remove her bra completely. I toss it onto the floor, move my hands back to her breasts, and cover her mouth with mine. I gently pinch her hardened nipples, and she moans into my kiss. I like the way she kisses, soft but frenzied. She wraps her small hand around my length and moves her hand up and down, up and down. Tessa is bringing me pleasure, in my bed, wearing my clothes.

“Oh, Tessa, I’m going to come,” I breathe. My body is out of my control. Tessa has become the puppet master, gathering and pulling every sensation out of me like the strings of a marionette. I’m on fire and in an ocean of ice at once, and I can barely keep my mouth from shouting her name. I concentrate on kissing her, massaging her sweet tongue with mine. My hands are still rubbing her chest. Her moans let me know how much she likes it. I drop my hands from her tits as I climax. The warmth of my come spreading through my boxers feels like the relief of letting out a thousand breaths.

When the rush starts to diminish, I drop my head back and close my eyes. Tessa stays sitting on my thighs. I’m glad. Despite popular belief, I’ve died and gone to heaven, I’m sure of it. I feel Tessa getting anxious, so I open my eyes and look at her. I’m a little nervous about how well I’m catching on to her little quirks. She smiles at me, and my nerves are calmed. I smile back and lean in to kiss her on her forehead. She sighs and I like the sound.

“I’ve never come like that before,” I share with her. I like that she’s giving me new experiences.

“It was that bad?” she asks, horrified and jumping to conclusions.

“What? No, you were that good. It usually takes more than someone just grabbing me through my boxers.”

She stares into space and doesn’t respond. Something is off. I try to repeat the last thirty seconds in my head to see if I offended her. I don’t think I did. I decide to ask, “What are you thinking?”

She doesn’t answer. She accuses me of being uncommunicative, but she herself is that way with me.

“Oh, come on, Tessa, just tell me,” I complain. She always tries to keep things from me but expects me to give her thorough explanations all the time. So I decide to tickle her. The old sitcoms I watched as a kid taught me that tickling is an easy way to get women to talk, plus it adds flirty points. And I need as many of those cute, little flirty things as I can get.

“Okay… okay! I’ll tell you!” Tessa shrieks, her legs kicking like a horse’s. She looks silly with her face scrunched up, teeth bared, kicking at me to stop tickling her. My stomach is in a knot from laughing.

“Good choice,” I say, feeling the wetness in my boxers. “But hold that thought. I need to take a quick shower and put on clean boxers.”

I didn’t bring a change of clothes, and I only have shirts in my car trunk right now. As I stand up, I look around the room for an option. The dresser is full of clothes; Karen told me it was. I’ve fought the idea—it’s creepy, really, that she filled up a dresser of clothes for someone who doesn’t want anything to do with her.

Fuck it. I don’t have any other options, and Karen really isn’t that bad. I broke her entire dining room into pieces; I guess I can make her happy by wearing her charity donations. I hope for the best when I open the drawer. My hope is crushed when my eyes meet a sea of plaid underwear. Blue and white, red and white, green and red, red and blue, white and green. It’s endless. I want to slam the drawer shut, but I’m desperate here. I grab the least offensive one, a blue-and-white pair, and hold it between my thumb and index finger as if it’s contaminated.

“What?” Tessa asks. She lifts up, rests on her elbows, and looks at me. I’m entertaining her; she’s having fun here. I can see it in her eyes. Each minute I spend with her, I know her better.

“These boxers are hideous,” I groan. Plaid? Cotton? Size XL? Who is she shopping for?

“They aren’t so bad,” she lies. I hold the blue-and-white-plaid monstrosity in the air and shake my head.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Back in a minute.” I grab the ugly-ass boxers and leave the room without looking back at Tessa in the bed. On my way to the bathroom I pass Landon’s room. I touch my ear to the door. I’m not surprised when I hear some character in a movie say something about elves. I knock lightly to be sure Tessa doesn’t hear me. I listen for him to answer, but it’s late, so he probably fell asleep watching Twilight. I knock again, and the door opens. His face is relaxed at first, until he realizes that it’s me. I step toward him, and he holds his hands up in front of him in defense.

“I’m not here to start shit,” I whisper. He’s an asshole for assuming that I was.

I can tell he doesn’t believe me—not one fucking bit.

“Then what is it that you want?” he questions in a dubious-sounding way.

I wave my hand in the air. “May I?” I ask him, gesturing toward the room. I look inside his dark room and notice the size of the TV on his wall. It has to be at least sixty inches. Of course it is. There’s also a wall of signed jerseys hanging in shiny frames, probably handmade by some sweet lady at the craft store. She likely glued them together with her sweat, just for Landon. He seems to get whatever he wants. He stands only about two inches shorter than me and he’s got a lot of muscle on me. Where my body is tall and lean, his is shorter and more fit. He almost looks like a younger, nerdy version of David Beckham. He’s dressed in a WCU T-shirt and flannel trousers. There’s no hope for him.

He looks me up and down and raises his eyebrow at my boxers.

“Fuck off—your mum is the one who bought them,” I snap at him.

He raises his hand to cover his mouth so he can pretend he’s not laughing. “I know, that’s why it’s funny.” He laughs to himself at my expense, and I’m reminded how annoying he is.

“Never mind.” I push past him and head toward the bathroom. I should have known better than to try to talk to him.

He raises his hands. “Wait, I’m sorry. I just thought it was funny because my mom still buys me those, even though I keep telling her they’re terrible.”

I don’t laugh along with him, but the idea is a little funny. “I wanted to talk to you about Tessa.”

He gets defensive. I watch as he stands a little taller and his lips press together. “What about her?”

I push my hair back from my face. “I wanted to make sure you know she’s…”

He raises his hands again, this time to shut me up. “Tessa knows what she’s doing; she doesn’t need me acting like she can’t take care of herself,” he says. His tone is stern, but there’s no malice in it.

I have no idea what to say to that. I figured he would be the douchebag, protective friend who would tell her to run as far as she can from me.

“Well…” I hesitate in the hallway. “I’m gonna go to bed now.” I look back at him as he’s closing his door and see a smile on his face. Well, that was awkward—but went better than I expected.

After showering, I go back to my room and find Tessa in the bed, curled up like a kitten. Her eyes dart straight to the boxers I’m wearing. Ugly things.

“I like them,” she lies.

These things are fucking horrendous. You can’t even see how big my cock is. I shoot a dirty look at her before I tug on the lamp chain and grab the remote. I’m surprised the fancy Mr. Scott didn’t install a fucking holographic television in here. I turn it to a random channel for background noise and lower the volume close to silent. I climb into the bed and lie next to Tessa, facing her.

“So, what were you going to tell me?” I ask her. She pulls her lip between her teeth. “Don’t be shy now—you’ve just made me come in my boxers.” I laugh at the irony of her embarrassment. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close to me.

I wait for Tessa’s dramatic performance to end. I love how carefree she is sometimes. I seem to pull that from her, and I’m proud of it. When my dramatic friend returns to normalcy, her hair is a mess. Loose waves fall down around her face. Without thinking, I touch her hair and push it behind her ear. She has the tiniest little earrings on. They remind me of when I went through a phase of wanting to gauge my ears until my friend Mark’s got infected. They were disgusting, and the most horrid odor came from them.

I need to think about something else.

I kiss her softly on the lips, and she takes over my entire mind.

“Are you still drunk?” Her question is yet another example of her being nosy and pushy.

“No, I think our little screaming match in the yard sobered me up.”

“Oh, well, at least something good came out of it.”

I don’t know what to do with my arm. I should put it on her back? I’m not sure. I face her and touch it to her back. “Yeah, I guess so.” I rest my arm now, focusing on the way her head is lying on my chest. She moves with each of my breaths like she’s already gotten used to the position. I like that.

She’s smiling, a bright smile, for me. “I think I actually like drunk Hardin better,” she says.

Drunk Hardin…

I can almost hear my mum’s voice shouting through our small house. “You’re nothing but a drunk, Ken!”

I distract myself from the memories threatening to break through and ruin this time with her.

She was probably teasing, anyway. I need to try to learn how to think before I speak. Being around Tessa is very good practice. “Is that so?”

“Maybe.” She pouts. If she thinks this foolishness is going to make me forget that I want an answer from her, she’s dead wrong.

Bringing the conversation back to the subject at hand, I say, “You’re terrible at distractions; now tell me.”

“Well, I was just thinking of all the girls you’ve… you know, done things with…” The moment she finishes, she digs her head into my chest to hide.

That’s what she’s thinking about right now? All I can think about is how I love the way her fluffy hair keeps tickling my nose and that she smells like she rolled in vanilla perfume before she came over. “Why were you thinking about that?”

She sighs as if I should catch on to what she’s talking about. I have no idea. “I don’t know… because I have literally no experience and you have a lot. Steph included.” The bitterness in her voice is beyond evident. I imagine I would be the same if she were to fuck Zed. The thought is brief, but it comes with a sharpness that I didn’t expect.

I throw that out of my mind for now. Zed has no place in this bed with her. I do wish he could see the way she’s looking up at me, though, eager for my attention.

I can’t tell if she’s upset or jealous or curious. Sometimes I can read her like a book, and other times the book is shut.

So, since I can’t figure it out, I decide to just ask her. “Are you jealous, Tess?”

I hope like hell she is.

“No, of course not.”

She’s lying through her goddamn teeth.

I’m going to play with her. She practically asked for it. Her body is so warm against mine. I’ve never lain like this in a bed before, cuddling with a girl after coming in my boxers. I’ve never done that before, and I’ve also never been that connected to someone during any type of sexual activity, and I sure as hell haven’t ever slept in bed with anyone before. “So you don’t mind if I tell you a few details, then?”

She’s so quick to shriek, “No! Please don’t!” I tighten my arm around her and laugh a little. I like that the idea bothers her. I would rather drill holes into my eardrums than hear about her fucking someone else. I stare at the ceiling and try to remember if I ever even thought about what it would be like to spend my nights with someone else in my bed. Outside of a possible drunken thought or two, I haven’t. Tessa is quiet, too quiet. I think she may have fallen asleep. I reach for my phone on the table and check the time. It’s barely midnight.

“You’re not going to sleep, are you? It’s still early,” I tease.

“Is it?” Tessa’s voice is thick with sleep. She really was going to pass out on me. Honestly, I could use the sleep, but I want to spend more time with her. She yawns and I roll my eyes.

I almost lie and tell her that it’s only ten. “Yeah, it’s only midnight.”

I bet she sleeps the doctor-recommended eight hours every night. That’s why she’s always so smiley and happy and shit.

“That isn’t early.” Her yawn is even cuter the second time.

She’s usually easily persuaded, so I’ll see what I can do. “To me it is. Plus, I want to return the favor.”

Tessa tenses in my arms. I can imagine the flush of her cheeks. Her mind is probably racing, imagining how a warm, wet tongue will feel sliding up and down her pussy or drawing small circles over her clit.

“You want me to, don’t you?” I ask in my lowest voice. She shivers next to me, and that’s my signal. She looks up at me, her lips turned up into a smile. I wrap my other arm around her and softly turn her body and mine so I’m on top of her. In my mind, her mouth is open in ecstasy. Her fingers are tugging at my hair, and her sweetness touches my tongue. In reality, Tessa wraps one leg around my back and pulls me closer. My fingers graze over her thigh and up to her knee.

She feels so good under me. Her body is so tempting. I’m convinced that she was sent here just to torture me, to test every bit of my self-control. A small, soft voice in my head reminds me that maybe, just maybe, she was sent here for the opposite reason. Maybe I’m meant to be with her, to show her a new perspective on life? It’s probably complete rubbish, but maybe she’s not here to punish me—maybe she’s here to save me.

“So soft…” I move my hand up and down her luscious legs again. The reminder of what’s at the end of those legs is thick in my mind and my boxers. She shivers again, her skin rising into small bumps. I love the consistent way her body reacts to me. Her lust never seems to falter; her body responds to my every touch. I wet my lips and press them to the inside of her knee. Her skin is so soft and tastes of vanilla. I could devour her entire body within seconds. Self-control… self-control…

“I want to taste you, Tessa.” I watch her eyes, waiting for her to react. She has no idea of the level of pleasure I can bring her. My tongue will drive her crazy—she’ll never want me to stop.

Tessa’s full lips part, and she leans into me, waiting for me to kiss her mouth. Her inexperience is both refreshing and frustrating.

“No. Down here.” I tap her pussy over her panties, and she sucks in a harsh breath. Her chest moves up and down, and it seems like I can feel her hormones raging through her body. With gentle strokes, I tease her, and the wetness on her panties grows under my fingertips.

She’s already soaked, and I tell her so. She’s so beautiful, and her beauty is even more radiant when she’s like this, swollen and wet for me. “Talk to me, Tessa. Tell me how badly you want it,” I urge her. It’s an obsession, to hear her beg for me.

My fingers keep rubbing at her, focusing on her clit.

“I didn’t want you to stop.” She’s whimpering. I love it.

“You didn’t say anything,” I reply. “I didn’t know if you were enjoying it.”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

I pull my body up to sit on top of her thighs. I can’t keep my hands off her. My fingers trace the smooth skin on her thighs, making her body jerk under me.

“Say it,” I push her. “No nodding—just tell me what you want, baby,” I encourage her. I love hearing her tell me how much she wants me.

“I want you to…” She inches her body toward mine. I try to keep my hands to myself and let her come to me and tell me what she wants.

I raise my brow. “Want me to what, Theresa?” I ask her.

“You know… to kiss me.”

I kiss her on her lips twice. She frowns.

“Is that what you wanted?” I tease her. She playfully slaps my arm. I want to hear her beg for my tongue.

“Kiss me… there.” Just as I move to obey her, Tessa covers her face and shakes her head. I can’t help but laugh as I reach for her hands, lowering them. Her scowl is deep. “You’re embarrassing me on purpose.” She’s actually upset. When did this happen?

She rolls her eyes when I try to explain to her that I can’t help it, I just wanted to hear her say the words. “Never mind, Hardin.” She pulls the blanket over her body to hide from me. Damn it. She’s lying the other way now, staring at the wall.

I hate that I made anything sexual a bad experience for her. In bed with me is supposed to be her haven, the place where she can shut off all thoughts and let everything go except for the pleasure I’m bringing her. I fucked up, and now this experience is going to piss her off every time she thinks about it. I shouldn’t have pushed her this hard. She’s so new to all of this and I’m a goddamn fool.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” I say into her hair. I hate fighting with her. I was only teasing her; I just didn’t know when to stop. I’m an idiot sometimes, in case she hadn’t noticed.

“Good night, Hardin.” Her voice is tough. She’s not in the mood to play games with me, so I use every bit of strength I have to let her be. The last thing I should do is push her even further.

See, I’m learning, I want to say.

“Fine, you stubborn ass,” I grumble back. I watch her breathing slow, then wrap my arm around her and try to fall asleep. She sighs a few times, mumbling incoherent thoughts. When she falls asleep, I sit up and watch her for a while, wondering how long she’s going to be mad at me and if I’m ever going to be able to figure out how to be a good boyfriend.