Chapter 32 (1/2)

“I’ll give you a minute to recover.” He laughs to himself and moves away from me.

I frown. I want him to stay close, but I’m also strangely unable to speak. After the best few minutes of my life, I sit up and look toward Hardin. He already has his jeans and shoes on.

“We’re leaving already?” The embarrassment is clear in my voice. I had assumed he would want me to touch him, too; even if I don’t really know what to do, he could explain it to me.

“Yeah, you wanted to stay longer?”

“I just thought . . . I don’t know. I thought maybe you would want something . . .” I have no idea how to say this. Lucky for me he catches on.

“Oh, no. I am okay, for now,” he says and gives me a small smile. Is he going to go back to being mean again? I hope not, not after this. I have just shared the most intimate experience I have ever had with him. I won’t be able to stand it if he treats me terribly again. He did say “for now,” so he wants something later? I am already starting to regret this. I put my clothes on over my wet bra and panties and try to ignore the soft wetness between my thighs. Hardin picks up his wet shirt and hands it to me.

He takes in my confused expression and tells me “to towel off.” His eyes shift to the apex of my thighs.

Oh. I unbutton my pants and he doesn’t bother to turn around as I swipe the shirt across my sensitive skin there. I don’t miss the way his tongue brushes across his bottom lip while he watches me. He pulls his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and his thumb slides across the screen repeatedly. I finish doing what he recommended and hand him his shirt back. As I step into my shoes, the air around us has changed from passionate to distant, and I find myself wishing to be as far away from him as possible.

I wait for him to talk to me as we walk back to the car, but he doesn’t say anything. My mind is already coming up with every possible worst-case scenario for what happens next. He opens my door for me and I nod to thank him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks me while he drives back down the gravel road.

“I don’t know. Why are you being so weird now?” I ask him, even though I’m afraid of his answer and can’t look directly at him.

“I’m not, you are.”

“No, you haven’t said a word to me since . . . you know.”

“Since I gave you your first orgasm?”

My mouth drops and my cheeks flush. Why am I still surprised by his dirty mouth?