Chapter 26: I love you
He lifted his hips, pulling his jeans down to his knees. The office chair groaned a soft protest under the shift of weight. He grabbed Tessa’s thighs, his fingers pressing into her soft skin, and she moved, settling onto his lap, straddling him. Her hand came to his shoulder for balance, her other finding the back of the leather chair.
She looked down at him, her blue eyes dark, and slowly sank down. He rolled his hips once, a sharp, guiding tilt, helping her take him in. She gasped, her head falling forward, her forehead coming to rest against his. The feeling was a slow, burning stretch, a fullness that made her breath catch in her throat.
For a moment, they just stayed like that, foreheads pressed, breathing the same air. Her exhale was a shaky warm against his lips. Then she began to move, a slow, tentative roll of her hips. A breathy moan escaped her, and her other hand came up to his neck, her fingers sliding into the hair at his nape.
Hardin’s hands tightened on her thighs. He matched her rhythm, a slow counterpoint, his own hips rising to meet her descent. Their eyes closed, mouths open against each other’s skin, sharing ragged breaths that fogged the cool office air. Hardin’s hand left her thigh, coming up to cradle her cheek. He kissed her, deep and searching, swallowing her soft cries.
She rolled her hips, moaning softly into his mouth, the sound a vibration they both felt. They broke the kiss, breathless, and looked at each other. In the dim office light, his eyes were a turbulent sea, focused solely on her.
“There’s no one else for me, Tessa,” he said, the words raw, stripped of all his usual armor.
She looked at him, her movement stilling for a heartbeat. “No one,” he repeated, as if sealing a vow.
She rolled her hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that forced a shared, shuddering exhale from them both. “I love you,” Hardin said, the admission quiet but absolute, hanging in the space between their lips.
Tessa looked at him, smiling, her face softened with an emotion that made his chest ache. “I love you too,” Tessa said.
Their foreheads rested against each other, and Hardin smiled, a real, unguarded thing that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Don’t say ‘too,’” he murmured, his breath warm on her skin. “It sounds like you’re agreeing with me.”
She laughed, the sound bright and startling in the quiet room, pulling back to look at him fully. “I love you, Hardin,” she said, each syllable deliberate and clear.
He kissed her, a deep, claiming kiss that spoke of promises, and they pulled apart, looking at each other while moaning softly from the rhythm she resumed. Hardin’s other hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. Tessa’s hand went to his stomach, her fingertips brushing across his torso, while her other hand tightened at the back of his neck.
She kept the slow, agonising roll of her hips. Hardin matched it, his hips meeting her descent with a rhythm that stole the air from her lungs. Tessa’s head went back for a second, her throat exposed in the dim light.
Hardin kissed her pulse point, his lips soft against the frantic beat there. She moaned, her fingers tugging at his hair, tightening in the messy brown strands. His hips snapped up, a sharp, instinctive thrust spurred by the sharp pull at his scalp.
She moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the filing cabinets.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling back slightly, his body going rigid beneath hers. His eyes searched her face, a flicker of sharp worry.
Tessa shook her head, She guided his face back to her neck. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice husky. “Just like that.”
Hardin kissed her neck, his lips a soft pressure against the frantic beat of her pulse. In one fluid motion he stood up, lifting her with him, her weight nothing against the coiled tension in his arms. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist, clinging to him as he took the full balance of her.
He turned and laid her back on her desk. Papers scattered under her shoulders, pens clattering to the floor, all ignored in the rustling tumble. His lips detached from her neck, his forehead coming to rest against hers as he settled between her thighs, the slow, deep rhythm never breaking.
“Are you sure?” he asked, the words a ragged whisper against her mouth.
Her answer was to pull his head down and kiss him, deep and certain. It was a yes that tasted of shared air and quiet understanding. When she broke the kiss, her blue eyes were clear and focused solely on him.
“I’m sure, please,” she breathed, her voice steady.
Her hands slid under his sweatshirt, her nails tracing his torso. He shuddered at her touch, a full-body tremor that had nothing to do with the cool air on his skin. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder.
Their rhythm built, a silent conversation of pushing and yielding. The only sounds were their shared breaths and the soft creak of the desk.
Hardin slowly picked up the pace, looking at her. A sharp cry left her throat, bitten off and desperate.
Her hips matched his pace as she rocked against him, a perfect counter-rhythm. He let his head fall back, a low groan tearing from his throat, raw and unfiltered.
The world narrowed to the space where their bodies joined.Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, He drove into her, each thrust a punctuation to their shared breath.
He watched every flicker of pleasure cross her face, every contraction of her features. It was a possession, but of the most vulnerable kind—he was giving himself over to her reaction.
A coil tightened low in her belly, a familiar, gathering heat. Her cries became shorter, sharper, words dissolving into shattered syllables. “I’m—Hardin, I’m—”
“I know,” he groaned, his own control fraying.
He kissed her quickly, a hard press of lips meant to anchor them both. Then he pulled back just enough to look at her, his ocean eyes clouded with a desperate sort of restraint. “Not yet,” he breathed, the words rough against her mouth. “Hold on for me.”
His hand came up to her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline as he fought for composure. He slowed his pace deliberately, each movement drawn out into a deep, stretching push. He thrust into her, hitting that final hilt, and stayed there, buried completely.
They both moaned loudly, a shared sound of overwhelming sensation that echoed in the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of them moved, simply existing in that suspended, breathless space. He watched her face, her lips parted, her eyes squeezed shut, every muscle taut.
He then slowly moved, retreating almost fully before sinking back in with the same torturous languor. A choked sob escaped Tessa’s throat, her fingers clawing at his back through the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Hardin,” she pleaded, the word a shattered whisper.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and strained. He kept that same slow, devastating rhythm, each drag of his body against hers a fresh assault on her resolve. Her heels dug into the small of his back, urging him closer, faster, but he held the pace.
His focus was absolute, a terrifying kind of tenderness in his refusal to let her break.
She whimpered, her head thrashing against the scattered papers. The coil inside her was a white-hot knot, pulled unbearably tight with every deep, measured stroke. “Please,” she gasped, the word barely audible.
He kissed her again, swallowing the plea. This time his control slipped, the kiss turning hungry and messy. His hips stuttered, betraying his own creeping edge. He pulled back, breathing hard, his forehead damp against hers.
The ragged sound filled the space between them, mixing with the soft rustle of displaced papers. He stilled his hips, stopping completely, and groaned in agony, a raw sound of pure restraint.
Tessa whimpered at the sudden absence of friction, the sensation of him motionless inside her an exquisite torment. He throbbed within her, a deep, involuntary pulse that made her rock her hips instinctively, seeking any movement.
Hardin grabbed her hips gently, his fingers pressing into her skin, stopping her. "Wait," he breathed, the word strained. He kept his eyes shut tight, his jaw clenched, fighting for control against the tide of his own need.
After a while, he let out a long, shaky exhale. He slowly started to move again, a single, deliberate thrust that made her cry out. It was a different rhythm now, less about building frenzy and more about measured discovery.
"You feel... god," he mumbled into her neck, his words lost against her skin. He set a slow, deep pace, each movement a conscious choice. Tessa wrapped her arms around his back, holding on as he moved, her own whimpers softening into sighs.
The earlier urgency had melted into something thicker, more resonant. He kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, whatever his lips could reach without breaking their connection.
He kept that same relentless, slow tempo, the wooden desk creaking a quiet, steady complaint beneath them. Her fingers traced the dead tree inked across his torso, feeling the raised lines through his sweatshirt.
Her breathing grew ragged again, her body tightening around him. This crest approached not with a scream, but with a deep, gathering tremble. "Hardin," she warned, her nails digging in.
Hardin kissed her, a deep, consuming press of his lips that stole the warning from her mouth and the breath from her lungs. It was a deliberate distraction, a sensual robbery that halted the relentless climb of her body just before she could tip over the edge.
He broke the kiss, pulling away from her and the desk, leaving her gasping and achingly empty on the scattered paperwork.
He took her hands, pulling her upright until she stood on wobbling legs before him. The cool office air hit her damp skin, raising goosebumps. Hardin’s fingers found the hem of her rumpled dress, gathering the fabric and lifting it up and over her head in one smooth motion.
He sat back down in the leather chair, which sighed under his weight. His hands went to her hips, guiding her down onto his lap again, her knees settling on either side of his thighs. The position was deeper, more intense, and she cried out softly as she sank down, taking him in completely.
His hand came up and rested flat on her stomach, a warm, heavy weight. The other rose to her throat, his thumb tilting her chin up, not squeezing, just holding, a gentle claiming. He watched her face, studying every flicker as he began to move again, a slow, nearly imperceptible rock of his hips.
His thumb stroked the line of her jaw. The slow movement was a different kind of torment, a sweet, drawn-out friction that built heat in her core all over again. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers brushing the neckline of his sweatshirt.
She moved her own hips, tentatively, meeting his languid rhythm. A soft moan escaped her.
He kissed her again, softer now, a slow melding of mouths that mirrored the pace he set below. His hand on her stomach slipped lower, his fingertips brushing just enough to make her gasp into his mouth. He smiled against her lips, a faint, proud curve.
“Hardin,” she whispered, a plea and a promise.
He held her there, on that exquisite brink, for what felt like an eternity, each shallow thrust a masterpiece of control. His own breathing was ragged, his muscles corded with strain beneath her hands. The desk lamp cast their tangled shadow against the wall of books, a silent witness.
Hardin’s hand slid from her throat to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He held her gaze, his ocean eyes completely focused.
His hips drove up into hers, the slow, measured rhythm fracturing into something urgent and deep. The change was instantaneous, a lightning strike to the building pressure. Tessa cried out, her head falling forward against his shoulder as the world narrowed to the point where their bodies joined.
Every nerve ending ignited. She clutched at his sweatshirt, the fabric twisting in her fists. His breath was hot and ragged against her ear, each sharp exhale a counterpoint to her own shattered gasps.
She forced her head up, meeting his gaze. What she saw there—a desperate, unfiltered need—unlocked something deep within her. Her hips moved of their own accord, meeting his thrusts with a ferocity. A guttural sound was torn from his chest.
Tessa felt herself on the edge. She threw her head back, arching against him, every muscle bowstring-tight. Then it hit her, harder than it ever did.
It wasn’t a wave but a detonation, a silent, burst that radiated from her core out to her fingertips. She couldn’t make a sound. Her body seized around him, a series of relentless, pulsing contractions that stole the air from her lungs and the strength from her bones. The world dissolved into a brilliant, shuddering static.
Hardin watched her face as she fell apart, her expression a beautiful, shattered thing. The sight of it, the feel of her tightening around him, broke the last of his restraint.
A raw, guttural sound ripped from his throat as his hips drove into her a final, shuddering time. He forced himself to hold it, not to tip over the edge, he stilled, moaning into her shoulder, his whole body locking as he fought against the cresting wave.
It was a losing battle. Pleasure detonated up his spine, hot and blinding. His fingers dug into her hips, anchoring himself a broken groan tore from his throat.
He tried to pull back, to withdraw, the last shred of his control screaming at him. Tessa’s hands flew from his shoulders to his lower back, her nails biting into his skin through the damp fabric of his sweatshirt.
“No,” she breathed, the word fierce and immediate. She locked her ankles behind him, holding him there, deep inside her. Her blue eyes were clear and insistent, meeting his wild, panicked gaze. “Don’t.”
He held there, trembling, every muscle in his back and arms rigid as stone. Her refusal was a command he had no strength to disobey, even as his body screamed for release.
"Don't," she said again, softer, her forehead pressing against his. Her grip on his back loosened, becoming a stroke, a soothing motion over the sweat-damp fabric.
Hardin looked at her, shaking his head. A vein pulsed in his temple. “Tessa, I can’t.” He groaned as her hips rolled once, a slow, deliberate contraction that squeezed the air from his lungs. He forced himself not to tip over the edge, a physical agony that made his vision speckle with static.
He was frozen, suspended in a perfect, unbearable torture.
Her eyes held his, unwavering. "You can," she whispered. "It's okay." Her hand went to his neck.
Her hand went to his neck, her thumb stroking the pounding vein there. "Just let go," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their breathing.
Her words were a soft, warm breach in the final dam of his control. Hardin’s hips involuntarily jerked as she said that, a sharp, fractured thrust he couldn’t suppress. His head flew back, his hands gripping the chair arms so hard the vinyl creaked in protest. “Fuck Tessa” He groaned, the words torn from a place of sheer, unraveling desperation.
He fought the will to release, his entire body a statue of tortured tension. Every muscle in his abdomen and back stood in stark relief, trembling with the effort of holding back a cataclysm. A choked, ragged sound escaped his clenched teeth.
“Tessa, baby—” The words got stuck in his throat as she rocked her hips against him, urging him to let go. His eyes snapped shut. His hands went to her hips, stilling her. He felt himself twitch inside of her, a sharp, involuntary pulse. God, he needed to release, he craved it.
He looked at her. He slowly pushed his hips up, hitting the hilt. He groaned as she slowly rocked her hips. He could feel it, the coil so tight in his stomach. “Shit, Tessa, I—”
The sentence died, replaced by a broken gasp.
She looked at him, saw the pure pleasure and pain he was in needing to release. It was written in the tremor of his jaw, the wild, almost frightened dilation of his pupils, the cords of his neck standing taut against skin.
His control shattered.
A ragged, wounded sound tore from his throat as he finally let go. His hips drove up, holding her tightly against him as he shuddered, a series of deep, helpless pulses that seemed to drain the very strength from his bones. His grip on the chair arms went slack, his hands falling to her thighs, gripping just to stay anchored.
He slumped forward, his forehead coming to rest heavily against her collarbone. His breaths were hot, ragged puffs against her skin, each one a tremulous surrender. She held him, her fingers stroking through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the gradual slowing of his heart where their chests met.
The office was utterly silent except for the sound of their breathing. The fluorescent lights hummed a distant, industrial note. After a long moment, he tilted his head just enough to press a kiss, soft and absent, to the skin above her breast.
He ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. His eyes landed on the small velvet box, still sitting open on the desk beside a toppled pencil cup. He grabbed the box from the desk.
He opened it and pulled the necklace out. The silver charms caught the low light, glinting.
He shifted Tessa’s hair to the side, gathering the blonde waves over one shoulder. His fingers were surprisingly deft. He wrapped the necklace around the back of her neck, then pulled it to the front, the cool metal a brief shock against her skin.
He clasped it, the tiny click loud in the quiet room. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a second before he leaned in, kissing her temple. His lips there for a few moments.