After (The After Series) (58 page)

“Someone could come in here.” I try to be stern, but my tone is shaky.

“Nope—Vance is at a meeting for the rest of the afternoon and Kimberly has agreed to call if she needs you.”

The idea of Hardin hinting to Kimberly what we could be
doing in here makes my cheeks heat, but my hormones take over. I glance at the door.

“Locked,” he answers cockily.

Without thinking, I pull Hardin closer and immediately put my hand over his crotch, palming him through his jeans. He groans and unbuttons his jeans, yanking them down along with his boxers.

“This is going to be faster than usual, okay, baby?” he says and slides my panties over.

I nod with anticipation and lick my lips. He chuckles and pulls me by my hips to the edge of the desk. My lips attack his neck and I hear the foil packet being ripped open.

“Look at you—three months ago you would blush at the mention of sex, and now here you are letting me fuck you on your desk,” he whispers and slams into me.

Hardin clamps his hand over my mouth and takes his bottom lip between his teeth. I can’t believe I am actually letting Hardin have sex with me on a desk, at the place of my internship, with Kimberly less than a hundred feet away. As much as I hate to admit it, the idea actually drives me crazy. In the best way.

“Are you going . . . to be . . . quiet . . .” he says in short spurts and moves even faster. I nod and pant, grabbing on to his biceps so I don’t fall off the desk from his assault.

“You like it this way, don’t you? Fast and hard?” He grits his teeth. I gently bite down on his palm to keep quiet.

“Answer me or I’ll stop,” he threatens.

I lower my eyes at him and nod, too overwhelmed with sensation to actually speak.

“I knew you would,” he says, and flips me over so my stomach is on the desk.

Oh God.
He thrusts back into me and moves slowly before
wrapping my hair around his fist and pulling me up so he can kiss my neck. The tension grows in my stomach and his movements grow sloppier—and I know we are both close. With his final thrust he kisses my shoulder before pulling out of me and helping me off the desk.

“That was—” I try to say and he silences me by kissing my lips.

“Yeah . . . it was.” He finishes my thoughts before pulling his pants back up. I run my fingers through my hair and wipe under my eyes to make sure my makeup is in place before looking at the clock. It’s almost three. The day has escaped me once again.

“You ready?” he asks.

“What? It’s only three.” I point to the clock.

“Christian said you can leave early. I spoke to him an hour ago.”

“Hardin! You can’t just ask him if I can leave early; this internship is important to me.”

“Babe, relax. He mentioned that he would be out all day and he was the one who brought up you leaving early.”

“I don’t want anyone to think I am taking advantage of this opportunity.”

“No one thinks that. Your GPA and your work speak for themselves.”

“Wait . . . so then why didn’t you just call me and tell me I could come home?” I raise a brow at him.

“I have wanted to bend you over that desk since your first day here.” He gives me a smug smile and grabs my jacket for me.

I want to tell him how crazy he is to come here just to have sex with me on the desk, but I can’t deny that I loved it. Looking at him in that T-shirt with those inked muscles, I could never deny him anything.

AS WE WALK
to our cars, he squints at the sun and says, “I was thinking we should go get whatever we are going to wear to that dreadful wedding.”

“Good idea,” I agree. “But I’m driving your car back home and we can leave my car, then go.” I jump into his car before he can protest. He just shakes his head and smiles.

After dropping my car off, we go to the mall. Hardin whines and complains like a child the entire time and I literally have to coerce him with sexual bribes to get him to buy a tie. He ends up getting black dress pants, a black jacket, a white dress shirt, and a black tie. Simple, but perfect for him. He refuses to try everything on, so I hope it all actually fits him. He would take any excuse not to go to the wedding, but I am not going to let that happen. Once we get him settled, it’s my turn.

“The white one,” he says and gestures to the short white dress in my hand, the other option being a longer black one. Since Karen mentioned that the color scheme was black and white, I figured I would stick to it. Hardin seemed to really like the white dress I wore yesterday, so I decide to listen to him. Much to my annoyance, before I realize what he’s doing, Hardin goes from “just carrying” my dress and shoes to paying for them. When I protest, the young girl at the register smiles and shrugs as if to say, “What do you expect me to do?”

“I have to do some work tonight, so I won’t be home for dinner,” he tells me as we walk out of the mall.

“Oh. I thought you worked from home.”

“I do, but I need to go to the library for a little bit,” he explains. “I won’t be gone too late.”

“I’ll just go grocery shopping while you are gone,” I tell him and he nods.

“Be careful and go before it gets dark,” he says.

He makes me a list of things he likes and leaves as soon as we get back to the apartment. I change into jeans and a sweatshirt and walk to the grocery store down the street. When I get back home, I put everything away, catch up on some homework, and make myself something to eat. I text Hardin but don’t hear anything back, so I put a plate of food in the microwave for him to heat up when he gets home and lie on the couch to watch television.

W
hen I wake up, it takes me a few moments to realize I am still on the couch.

“Hardin?” I call out, untangling myself from the blanket. I walk to the bedroom in the hopes he will be in there. But the room is empty.
Where the hell is he?

I go back to the living room and snatch my phone off the back of the couch. Still no messages from him—and it’s seven in the morning. I call, but get his voicemail and hang up. I storm around the kitchen and turn on the coffeepot before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. I’m lucky I woke up on time, because I didn’t actually set my alarm. I never forget to set an alarm.

“Where are you?” I say aloud and step into the shower.

As I blow-dry my hair, I go over the possible explanations for his absence. Last night I thought he just got caught up with his work, since he has a lot to make up for or maybe he ran into someone he knew and the time slipped away from him. But at the library? Those things close fairly early, and even bars close eventually. The most likely explanation is that he went to a party. I somehow know this is what happened. A small part of me still worries that maybe he was in an accident; the thought alone hurts too bad to even entertain. But no matter what excuse or story I conjure up in my mind, I know he is doing something he isn’t supposed to. Everything was good between us last night and then he goes and stays out all night?

In no mood to wear a dress, I put on one of my old black pencil
skirts and a soft pink button-up shirt. Clouds cover the sky my entire drive, and by the time I get to Vance my mood has darkened to match them and I’m infuriated.
Who the hell does he think he is to stay out all night without even telling me?

Kimberly raises a brow at me when I walk past the donut table without grabbing one, but I give her my best fake smile and walk to my office. My morning passes in a daze. I read and reread the same pages over and over without comprehending any of the words.

There is a knock on my door, and my heart stops. I desperately hope it’s Hardin, regardless of how pissed I am at him. Instead it’s Kimberly.

“Do you want to go get lunch with me?” she asks sweetly.

I almost decline her offer, but sitting here obsessing over my boyfriend’s whereabouts is not helping me one bit.

I smile. “Sure.”

We walk around the corner to a small cantina-style Mexican restaurant. By the time we get inside we’re both shivering, and she asks to be seated close to a heater. The small table we are given is directly underneath a heater, and we both raise our hands in the air to warm up.

“This weather is unforgiving,” she says and prattles on about being cold and already missing summer.

“I almost forgot how cold the winter is,” I tell her plainly. The seasons have blended together, and I barely noticed fall slipping away.

“So . . . how are things with Mr. Bad Ass?” she asks with a laugh.

The server brings us chips and salsa, and my stomach growls. I am not skipping my morning donut anymore.

“Well . . .” I debate whether to share my personal life with her. I don’t have many friends. None, really, excluding Steph, whom I never see anymore. Kimberly is at least ten years older
than me and maybe she has some good insight into the minds of men, something I certainly lack in. I stare at the ceiling covered in strings of beer-bottle-shaped lights and take a deep breath.

“Well, I am actually not sure how things are at the moment. Yesterday things were fine but then he stayed out last night. All night. It was our second night in the apartment and he just never came home,” I explain.

“Wait . . . wait . . . back up. Okay, so you two live together?” She gapes.

“Yeah . . . as of Tuesday.” I try to smile.

“Okay, so then he just didn’t come home last night?”

“Nope. He said he had to do some work and go by the library, but then he didn’t come home.”

“And you don’t think he’s hurt or anything, right?”

“No, I really don’t.” I feel as if I would somehow know if he wasn’t okay, like we are tied together in some way that would immediately let me know if he was hurt.

“He hasn’t called?”

“Nope. Or texted.” I frown.

“I would have his balls if I were you. This is unacceptable,” she proclaims.

The server stops by to say, “Your food will be out shortly,” and fills up my water. I’m a little thankful for the small interruption, to give me a chance to catch my breath after Kimberly’s harsh words.

And then she goes on, and when I realize she’s not judging me but sticking up for me, I feel better. “I mean it—you have to make it clear that he can’t behave this way; otherwise he will keep doing it. The problem with men is that they are creatures of habit, and if you let this be his habit, you’ll never be able to break it. He needs to know from the start that you won’t put up with this shit. He is lucky to have you and he needs to get his shit together.”

Something about her pep talk gives me more confidence in my anger. I should be pissed. I should “have his balls,” as Kimberly so subtly put it.

“How do I do that?” I ask and she laughs.

“Let him have it. Unless he has a damned good excuse, which I am sure he is plotting right now, you let him have it the second he walks through that door. You deserve to be respected, and if he isn’t respecting you, then you need to either make him or kick him to the curb.”

“You make it sound so easy.” I laugh.

“Oh, it’s far from easy.” She laughs, then grows serious. “But it has to be done.”

The rest of our lunch is filled with stories of her college life and how she has had her fair share of terrible relationships. Her blond bob sways back and forth as she shakes her head during almost every story. I find myself laughing so hard I have to dab the corners of my eyes. The food is delicious and I am glad I came out to lunch with her instead of sulking alone in my office.

On the way back to my office, Trevor spots me from near the restrooms and comes over, smiling. “Hello, Tessa.”

“Hey, how are you?” I ask politely.

“I’m okay. It’s awfully cold out there,” he says and I nod. “You look lovely today,” he adds and looks away. I get the feeling he didn’t mean to say that aloud. I smile and thank him before he heads into the bathroom, obviously embarrassed.

By the time I leave, I have gotten literally no work done so I take the manuscript home with me in hopes of making up for my lack of motivation today.

When I arrive back at the apartment, Hardin’s car still isn’t in the lot. My anger returns, and I call him and cuss him out on his voicemail, which surprisingly makes me feel a little better. I make myself a quick dinner and get my things ready for tomorrow.

I can’t believe it’s only two days until the wedding. What if he
doesn’t come back before then? He will.
Won’t he?
I look around the apartment. As charming as it is, it seems to have lost some of its glow in Hardin’s absence.

Somehow I manage to get a good amount of work done and am just putting everything away when the door opens. Hardin stumbles through the living room and into the bedroom without saying a word. I hear him toss his boots onto the floor and curse at himself, most likely for falling over. I go over what Kimberly said at lunch today and gather all my thoughts, pushing my anger to its head.

“Where the hell were you?” I yell as I enter the room. Hardin has his shirt off and is removing his pants.

“Good to see you, too,” he slurs.

“Are you drunk?” I gape.

“Maybe,” he answers, and tosses his pants onto the floor.

I huff and pick them up, throwing them at him. “We have a hamper for a reason.” I glare and he laughs.

He is laughing. Laughing at me.

“You have some nerve, Hardin! You stay out all night and most of the day today without even calling me, and then you stumble in here
drunk
and
make fun of me
?” I scream.

“Stop yelling. I have a killer headache,” he groans and lies on the bed.

“Do you think this is funny? Is this some sort of game to you? If you aren’t going to take our relationship seriously, then why did you ask me to move in with you?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now. You’re overreacting; now, come over here and let me make you happy.” His eyes are bloodshot from the amount of alcohol he consumed. He holds his arms out for me with a stupid drunken grin on his perfect face.

“No, Hardin,” I say sternly. “I’m serious. You can’t just stay out all night and not even offer me an explanation.”