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When I hesitate, he grins at me. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Sighing, I crawl up next to him. He fluffs the pillow behind me and then grins when I lean back. “What do you want to watch?”
When the knock comes on the hotel door, Hardin and I are curled up on the bed. Just barely touching. The TV is on, but I’m not really watching it. My body is acutely aware of how close Hardin is, of the heat reaching me even through layers of clothes. He shifts and every nerve ending on my side closest to his tingles and pricks. Some part of me is straining toward him.
I can feel his gaze on the side of my face, but keep facing resolutely forward. This can’t happen. I can’t just hop into bed with him. I refuse to, not until I have my answers, not until I know what the fuck is happening. Why they hated me enough to ruin my life.
“Ro?” The single syllable has goose pimples rising on my skin. I look at him. He shifts even closer. “Can I kiss you?”
I blink at him. He’s never asked me, not for a kiss. Not that he ever forced himself on me. And yet here he is, asking me uncertainly if he can kiss me. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him uncertain.
Sweet baby kittens. How do I say no to that?
I give a jerky nod and he huffs out a sigh before leaning forward. I stop him with both hands on his shoulders. “Just a kiss, Hardin. Not anything else.”
His blue eyes run over my face, hitting every point and then settling back on my eyes. “Just a kiss,” he confirms.
Fuck, I hope he sticks to it.
I hopeIstick to it.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, holding me in place, not letting me retreat now that I’ve agreed. Not that I would anyway. Kissing Hardin is an out-of-body experience. It feels so damn good.
I’d be lying to myself if I said my body didn’t crave him on some level. My heart too, but my brain isn’t fully on board with this. Hardin’s lips brush over me softly, almost reverently, like he can’t quite believe I’m letting him do this, like he’s going to make it last for as long as he possibly can.
A knock thunders through the room. We both freeze, like we’ve been caught doing something bad. Any person watching this would yell at me that I am, in fact, doing something bad, wrong. Because I am.
Reality bitch slaps me. I can’t do this. Not with him. Not ever.
Still, neither of us moves right away. “Maybe if we don’t make a noise, they’ll go away,” he whispers against my lips.
“You know that’s the other F’s, right? We told them to come here,” I whisper back. Hardin groans and kisses me one more time before I extract myself from his arms and go to open the door. I pause before opening. “Who is it?”
“Let us in, Sweeney,” comes Fielder’s voice.
A moment later, I’m greeted by the sight of three impossibly beautiful boys, all of them looking at me like I am the most important thing in the world to them. Gideon muscles by Fielder and wraps his arms around me, pulling me off my feet before carrying me farther into the room. “You’re okay?” he asks with his lips pressed against the column of my neck.
I don’t return the embrace, just leave my arms to hang by my sides.
I nod, but he drops me on my feet and pulls back to look at me closer. His jaw ticks when he sees the bruise on my cheek. “It looks worse than it is,” I say, capturing his hand with mine before he can touch it. “Still hurts though.”
He winces like he hadn’t realized what he was doing. “Sorry.”
Fielder and Ezra are looking around the room, taking in Hardin stretched out on my bed, his hands laced behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles and obviously naked under the robe. He’s also wearing a very self-satisfied grin that even I have the urge to wipe off his face.
Ezra crosses his arms over his chest. “Comfy?”
Hardin’s grin stretches. “Jealous?”
“Hardly.”
“Oh, don’t lie, Carmichael. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Fuck off, Yorke.”
I scowl, stepping away from Gideon. “Stop it. Both of you.” I turn my gaze to Hardin alone. “Nothing happened.” I look at the rest of my tormentors. “We got caught in the rain. Hardin’s clothes were soaked. He didn’t have anything else to put on.”
Hardin’s brows lower and his mouth becomes a straight line, but he doesn’t say anything else, even though I can tell there are words on the tip of his tongue.
