CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hardy
I t’s my ego’s fault.
That’s why I’m standing at the arrivals terminal at Miami International Airport, trying to hide my identity from other travelers as I wait for the passengers who just disembarked from their flight out of LaGuardia.
Definitely my ego’s fault that I thought about her my entire flight home and wondered why she passed up a ride on a private jet simply to avoid me.
Last night happened, right? She was in that lace and I fisted my cock? I know it did because I woke to her scent still on my hand but alone in her bed, wondering where the hell she was.
I spot her coming down the escalator and fight the urge to go to her. If I do, no doubt I’ll be spotted, so I step outside and sit on the bench to wait for her to exit.
It only takes a few minutes before she walks out of the doors.
“Glad to see you made it home safely,” I say.
She freezes. Her shoulders sag briefly but rise back up before she turns around to face me. “Hardy. Hi.”
“I figured you might need a ride home.”
“I’m good. I don’t need—”
“Yes, you do.” I rise from my seat without giving her an option. “Shall we?”
She stands there and looks at me, obviously not thrilled with the idea of me being here.
Like I give a fuck.
We walk to the car park in silence. She trudges in protest but doesn’t say a word. This is how she wants to play this? Fine.
We’ll do it my way then.
I take her bag from her, put it in the back of my car next to mine, and toss the baseball hat I was wearing in too. But before she goes to open the passenger side door, I click the locks so she can’t.
“Christ, Hardy. Open the door. I have to get to the academy.”
“And I’ll get you there after we have a little chat.”
“What if I say no?”
I cross my arms over my chest, lean against the concrete stem wall next to my car, and stare at her. “Then we wait.”
“Fine.” She picks up her phone and taps away at the screen. “I just ordered a rideshare.”
“Be my guest. Anything to escape confrontation, huh? No worries. We’ll chat while we wait.”
“You’re acting like a child,” she huffs.
“That’s rich.” I laugh. “Coming from the woman who walked out without a word and took a different plane to avoid talking about what happened last night.”
“We both know what happened. There’s no need to rehash it.”
I’ve gotten under her skin. That’s clear as day.
“Except your actions say otherwise. What is it, Whitney? You have regrets? I touch a nerve somehow? You wanted me to cross your boundaries and disrespect you?” I ask with incredulousness. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it. What did I miss?”
Panic makes a brief appearance in her eyes before she locks it down. I hate seeing it but know that feeling intimately. I know how crippling it can be.
“I don’t want anything from you other than the rest of your time at the camp.”
My laugh is loud and its sarcasm taunting as it echoes around the concrete garage. I know there was more than that there last night. Hell, there’s been more than that building between us over the past two weeks. “Avoiding a private jet seems to be the fitting response to that request, no?”
She throws her hands up as her pitch escalates. “What do you want from me? We had some fun. We messed around. We both got off. Big fucking whoop.”
“And none of that enticed you to want more, right?”
“No, that’s not it, it’s just ...” She is visibly frustrated, almost like a child who wants something but can’t verbalize it.
“It’s just what?” I ask, head angled to the side as I try to figure out the wonder and confusion that is this woman.
“It’s nothing. Just tell me what it is you want from me, and I’ll give it to you so we can stop this stupid charade and move on.”
“More time with you,” I state without thinking.
“You’re out of your fucking mind.” She points and jabs me in the chest. “You’ll get it. We have camp together.”
“Outside of camp.”
She shakes her head and stares at me like I’m crazy. “Did you forget that we live in two different worlds that don’t mesh at all? Last night was enough of an example of that.”
“That’s the excuse you’re going to use now?”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth.” She shrugs.
“It seems we’re not looking at the same truths then,” I say.
“The same truths? How whatever you’re wanting from whatever this is just isn’t going to work? Besides, before you know it, you’ll be packed up and headed back home to England and your life there.”
“So because I have a life to return to, we can’t hang out together now?” I ask, trying to figure out where all this hostility is coming from. How did we go from being great together to this?
Last night really happened, right? The laughs during the premiere...the flirting and touches throughout the night...getting each other off. We even fell asleep together.
What am I missing?
“Hang together now is code word for you needing to finish what you came for—sleeping together. That’s the only reason you’re here, no doubt.”
“What is it with you and that default, Whit? Do I want that? Hell yeah. Especially after last night. But I’m the one who respected your boundaries and now you’re punishing me for it.”
“Respecting my boundaries would be you not standing here right now, badgering me. But oh, I forgot. The job’s not done. You need to show that charitable status of yours and cement your reputation overhaul tour. No doubt a pity fuck with the charity case would do that for you.”
Fury races through me. A pity fuck? Is that what she thought last night was? A one-off, get off, where I tested every thread of my restraint and didn’t touch her except for that one time? Where I fought every goddamn urge not to push her up on the bed and drive into her? But that was out of pity and not respect?
She lifts her chin a little higher. It serves to show me the column of her throat and allow me to envision kissing my way down its delicate skin. Defiance when lying is still defiance.
And fuck if it didn’t just remind me of what she looked like last night—eyes heavy with lust, lips parted, and body strung so tight it begged to come.
Fuck that.
Fuck this.
And that’s when my control snaps.
Without warning, I slant my mouth over hers and take from those parted pouty lips. Her tongue meets mine with a hesitancy that turns me on and then a certainty that kicks it into fucking overdrive.
I take what I’ve wanted, what I’ve craved, since the first time I saw her.
She tastes of sugar and sin. Of hunger and greed. Of fucking sanity and a crazed need. I take until I can’t take anymore. Until her initial resistance fades. Until her hands fist in my shirt and hold me close instead of pushing me away. Until that unabashed moan is in the back of her throat.
Christ, if I’d known this is what she tasted like, that restraint would have been gone so very long ago.
I hold her face as I break the kiss and then take a step back, not trusting myself to stop with just this. Her taste is seared into my brain, and the scent of her skin leaves me breathless. “You want me, Whitney, just as bad as I want you. Last night was a precursor to that.” I’ve heard her words. She doesn’t believe we have a chance, and she doesn’t trust my motives, so I want to help her see just how fucking much I want her. How I hate that she’s been so hurt in life that she can’t see genuine respect and care. I wouldn’t have waited all this time for her if all I wanted was a quick fuck.
It’s more than that, but I need to explain this so she hears me .
“When I fuck you, Whitney... and I will fuck you, it’ll be because you’re goddamn good and ready and have acknowledged that want. Not because it fits a media narrative or to polish the shine on my reputation. Not because of some war you’re waging in your own head over different lanes and life differences. And sure as shit not because I pity you. Rest assured, I do not. It’ll be because you trust me. Because you want me. Because you know how goddamn good last night was. Because you hunger, you ache for what we’ll feel like together. The same as I do. Until then, you can remember the taste of my kiss because I promise you, that’s just a hint of just how fucking great it’s going to be.” I drop my hands from her and force myself to take another step back. “Your ride is here.”
I round my car and get behind the driver’s seat without another word. The image of her—cheeks rosy, lips parted, eyes darkened with desire—makes my steps feel like I’m trudging through goddamn quicksand.
And I am.
No woman has ever shaken me up from just her kiss alone. Whitney has.
I watch her ride pull away. I stare at its taillights until I can’t see them anymore. And I wonder what the fuck has gotten into me.
I may be a lot of fucking things in this life, but it seems I’m suddenly a man of my word. That’s one promise I will definitely be keeping.