After We Fell (After 3) - Chapter 189

My mouth is dry by the end of his speech, and I want to hightail it out of this excessively bright kitchen. “That’s a load of shit.” The words rush from my mouth.

He walks over and opens a cabinet while talking. “Have you ever watched that show Sex and the City?”

“No.”

“Sex in the City, Sex and the City—I don’t remember.”

“No, no, and no,” I respond.

“Kim watches it all the time; she has every season on DVD.” Christian tears open a box of cookies.

It’s two in the morning. Tessa is waiting for me, and here I am talking about some shit show. “Okay?”

“There’s this episode where the women are talking about how you only get two great loves in your life—”

“Okay . . . okay. This is getting too fucking weird,” I say, turning to go. “Tessa is waiting for me.”

“I know . . . I know . . . let me finish really quick. I’ll sum it up for you in the most masculine way possible.”

I turn back to find him looking at me expectantly, so I nod hesitantly.

“So they were saying that you only get two great loves in your entire life. My point is . . . well, I have sort of lost my point, but I know that Tessa’s your great love.”

I’m lost. “You said we get two?”

“Well, for you, the other is your own self.” He snorts. “I thought that was obvious.”

I raise a brow. “And yours were who? Bigmouth and Smith’s mum?”

“Watch it . . .” he warns.

“Sorry, Kimberly and Rose.” I roll my eyes again. “They were yours? You better hope those broads on that show were wrong.”

“Uhh, yes. Those two were m-mine,” he stutters. An emotion flashes across his face, but it disappears before I can really nail down what it was.

Tipping the water bottle to him, I say, “Well, now that you’ve made no point whatsoever, I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah . . .” he says, slightly flustered. “I don’t even know what I’m going on about. I drank too much tonight.”

“Yeah . . . okay.” I leave him alone in the kitchen. I don’t know what the hell that was all about, but it was odd seeing the one and only Christian Vance at a loss for words.

By the time I get back to the room, Tessa is asleep on her side. Her hands are resting under her cheek, and her knees are tucked up against her body.

I flick the light off and set her water bottle on the nightstand before climbing into bed behind her. Her naked body is warm to my touch, and I can’t help but shiver as the tracing of my fingertips causes small goose bumps to rise on her skin. They comfort me, reminding me that my touch, even in her sleep, awakens something in her.

“Hey,” she whispers sleepily.

I jump slightly at her voice and nuzzle my head in her neck, pulling her closer to me. “We’re going to England next weekend,” I tell her.

She quickly turns her head to look behind her. The room is pretty dark, but there’s enough moonlight for me to see the shock on her face. “What?”

“England. Next weekend. You and me.”

“But—”

“No. You’re going. And I know you want to go, so don’t try to argue about it.”

“You don’t have—”

“Theresa. Let it go.” I press my hand over her mouth, and she uses her teeth to softly nip at the skin of my palm. “Are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet if I move my hand?” I tease her, thinking back to her earlier accusation that I was parenting her.

She nods her head, and I let her go. She lifts herself up onto her elbow and turns to face me. I can’t possibly hold a conversation with her when she’s naked and feisty.

“But I don’t have a passport!” she cries out, and I hide my smile. I knew she wasn’t done.

“It’s already in the works. We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Theresa . . .”

“Two times in one minute? Uh-oh.” She grins.

“You’re never drinking champagne again.” I push her messy hair away from her eyes and trace the shape of her bottom lip with my thumb.

“You certainly weren’t complaining earlier when I was—”

I silence her drunken mouth by pressing my lips against hers. I love her so much, so fucking much that it frightens me to think about losing her.

Do I really want to mix her—my potential future, the only shot I have at a decent one—with my wicked past?

Chapter one hundred and eighteen

TESSA

When I wake up, Hardin isn’t draped over me, and the room is too bright even when I close my eyes again. Keeping them closed, I groan, “What time is it?”

My head is throbbing, and even though I know I’m lying down, my body feels like it’s swaying back and forth.

“Noon,” Hardin’s deep voice says from across the room.

“Noon! I missed my first two classes!” I try to sit up, but my head spins. I fall back onto the mattress with a whimper.

“You’re fine; go back to sleep.”

“No! I can’t miss any more classes, Hardin. I just started classes at this campus, and I can’t begin this way.” I begin to panic. “I’m going to be so behind.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Hardin says with a shrug, crossing the room to sit on the bed. “You probably already have the assignments completed anyway.”

He knows me too well. “That’s not the point. The point is that I missed the lecture, and it makes me look bad.”