“Stop smirking at me,” she huffs, out of breath. Her eyes are wide and shining, and her cheeks are red with anger.
“I’m not. I’m just really surprised at what happened.” I bite down on my lip.
“I hate her so much! Like, who the hell does she think she is?” she shouts and bobs her head toward the others in the room, obviously trying to get Molly’s attention.
“All right, Ortiz . . . let’s get you some water,” I say.
“Ortiz?” she asks.
“He’s a UFC fighter . . .”
“UFC?”
“Never mind.” I laugh and fill a glass of water for her. I check back in the living room to make sure Molly is nowhere to be found.
“My adrenaline is rushing like crazy,” Tessa tells me.
The best part of fighting is the high from the adrenaline. It’s addicting. “Have you ever been in a fight before?” I ask, even though I’m sure I know the answer.
“No, of course not.”
“Why did you get into one just now? Who cares what Molly thinks about us being together.”
“It’s not that. That’s not what made me mad.”
“What was it, then?” I ask her.
She hands me the empty cup of water, and I refill it. “When she said that . . . about you and her,” she admits, her face twisted in anger.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I should’ve punched her,” she huffs out.
“Yes, but I think knocking her to the ground and slamming her head against the floor worked pretty well, too, Ortiz.”
A small smile breaks from her lips, and she giggles. “I can’t believe I just did that.” She giggles again.
“You are so drunk.” I laugh.
“I am!” she agrees loudly. “Drunk enough to slam Molly’s head against the floor,” she says, laughing again.
“I think everyone enjoyed the show,” I tell her, snaking my arm around her waist.
“I hope no one is mad at me for causing a scene.” There’s my Tessa. Drunk as shit, yet still trying to be considerate of other people.
“No one is mad, baby. If anything, they’ll be thanking you. This is the kind of shit these frat kids live for,” I assure her.
“God, I hope not,” she says and looks momentarily grossed out.
“Don’t worry about it. Do you want to go find Steph?” I ask to distract her.
“Or we could do something else . . .” she says, hooking her fingers into the top of my jeans.
“You are never drinking vodka when I’m not around,” I tell her, teasing but so serious.
“Sure . . . now let’s go upstairs.” She leans up and plants a kiss on my jaw.
“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?” I smile.
“You aren’t the only one who gets to be bossy all the time.” She laughs and grips the collar of my shirt, pulling me down to her height. “At least let me do something for you,” she purrs, nipping at my earlobe.
“You just got in a fight—your first fight, at that—and this is what you’re thinking?”
She nods. Then she says in a low, slow voice that makes my pants feel even tighter, “You know you want to, Hardin.”
“Okay . . . fuck . . . okay.” I give in.
“Well, that was easy.”
I grab her wrist and lead her upstairs.
“Has someone already taken over your old room?” she asks when we reach the second floor.
“Yeah, but there are plenty of empty rooms,” I tell her and open the door to one of them. The two small beds are covered with black comforters, and there are shoes in the closet. I don’t know whose room this is, but it’s ours now.
I lock the door and take a few steps to meet Tessa. “Unzip me,” she commands.
“Not wasting any time, I see—”
“Shut up and unzip my dress,” she snaps.
I shake my head in amusement, and she turns around and lifts her hair. My lips brush over the nape of her neck as I slide the zipper down her back. Goose bumps appear on her soft skin, and I follow them down her spine with my index finger. Shivering a little, she turns around, sliding down the sleeves of her dress. The whole thing drops to her feet, revealing the hot-pink lace bra and panties that I absolutely fucking love. I can tell by the smile on her face that she knows this.
“Leave your shoes on,” I practically beg.
She agrees with a smile and looks down at her shoes. “I want to do something for you first.” In a swift motion, she tugs at my jeans, but frowns when they don’t move. Her fingers quickly unbutton the fly front and she pulls them down. I step backward toward the bed, but she stops me.
“No, ew. Who knows who has done what on that thing.” She makes a disgusted face. “Floor,” she demands.
“I guarantee that floor is much dirtier than the bed,” I say. “Here, let me put my shirt down.” I pull my shirt over my head and lay it on the floor, then sit down on top of it. Tessa joins me, straddling me. Her mouth latches on to the skin on my neck, and she rolls her hips, pushing herself against me.
Fuck. “Tess . . .” I breathe. “I’m going to finish before you start if you keep doing that.”
She removes her lips from my neck. “What do you want me to do, Hardin? Do you want to fuck me or do you want me to bl—”
I cut her off with a kiss. I’m not wasting any time with foreplay. I want her—I need her—now. Within seconds, her panties lie on the floor next to her and I’m reaching for my jeans to grab a condom. I need to remind her about getting on birth control—I can’t stand using a condom with her. I want to feel her, all of her.