After We Fell by Anna Todd Page B

he says and takes my hand in his, turning and pulling me gently.
    As I follow Hardin back into the bedroom, paranoia begins to seep into my thoughts like a familiar friend.

chapter sixteen
TESSA
    T he microscopic section of my mind that holds a place for common sense is attempting to send warning signals to the rest of my brain, the space held by Hardin and all things Hardin. The sensible side—what’s left of it, anyway—is telling me that I need to ask questions, that I can’t just brush this off. I do that too much as it is.
    That’s the microscopic section. The larger section wins. Because, do I really want to cause a fight with him or accuse him of something that I might just be misunderstanding? He could have just been angry at Steph for inviting Molly along to lunch earlier. I couldn’t hear all that well, and he might have been sticking up for me. He was just so forthcoming about having lied about being expelled—why would he be lying to me now?
    Hardin sits back on the bed, grabbing my hands in his, pulling me over to sit on his leg. “Well, we’ve exhausted all the serious topics, and your dad’s asleep. I guess we’ll have to find another way to occupy ourselves . . .” His grin is ridiculous yet infectious.
    â€œIs sex all you think about?” I reply and push his chest playfully.
    He lies back on the bed, one hand across the small of my back and one behind my thigh, pulling me on top of him. I straddle him, my thighs on either side of his, and he pulls me down so that our faces are nearly touching.
    â€œNo, I think of other things, too. For example, I think of those lips open around me . . .” He brushes his lips against mine. I can tastethe hint of mint on his breath when he kisses me; the pressure is hard enough to send a wave of electricity through me, but gentle enough to leave me wanting more.
    â€œI think of my face buried between your legs while you—” he starts to say, but I reach up and cover his mouth with my hand. The way his tongue playfully darts out to lick my palm causes me to pull away quickly.
    â€œEww.” I crinkle my nose and wipe my wet palm on his black shirt.
    â€œI’ll be quiet,” he softly says, lifting his hips from the mattress to press himself against me. “That’s more than you can say, of course.”
    â€œMy father . . .” I remind him, with much less conviction this time.
    â€œWho gives a fuck? This is our place, and if he doesn’t like it, he can leave.”
    I give him a semiserious look. “Don’t be rude.”
    â€œI’m not, but I want you, and I should be able to have you whenever I want to,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
    â€œI have a say in this, too; it’s my body you’re talking about.” I pretend like my heart isn’t pounding and I don’t have that familiar ache for him.
    â€œObviously, yes. But I know that if I do this . . .” He reaches his hand down between our bodies and under the waistband of my pants and panties. “See, I knew you’d be ready when I started talking about eating . . .”
    I press my lips against his to silence his dirty mouth, and he swallows the gasps he’s causing me to make as his fingers graze over my clit. He’s barely touching me, deliberately trying to torture me.
    â€œPleasssse,” I hiss, and he applies more pressure, pushing a slick finger inside of me.
    â€œThought so,” he taunts and pumps his finger slowly.
    All too soon he stops his motion and moves me to lie beside him. Before I can complain, he sits up and grips the top of my pants, the pair he seems to be so infatuated with, and pulls them roughly down my thighs. I lift my hips to assist him, and then he works off my panties, too.
    Without speaking, he gestures for me to move up toward the top of the bed. I push myself back using my elbows and rest my back