After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
I hope she can hear the rawness in my voice, how badly I want her forgiveness. I need it—I need her like I’ve never needed anything before, and I know she loves me. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t, though I can’t believe I just said “the rest of my life”—that might freak her out.
When she doesn’t say anything else, my heart breaks. And just before I feel more tears coming, I whisper, “I’m so sorry, Tessa . . . I love you so much—”
She catches me completely off guard when she darts across the space between us and climbs onto my lap. I bring my hands to her beautiful face, and she takes a deep breath, leaning her cheek into the palm of my hand.
She looks up at me. “I need it to be on my terms. I won’t be able to make it through another heartbreak.”
“Whatever it takes. I just want to be with you,” I tell her.
“We have to take it slow, I shouldn’t be doing this at all . . . If you hurt me again, I’ll never forgive you, ever,” she threatens.
“I won’t. I swear it.” I’d rather die than hurt her again. I still can’t believe she’s giving me another chance.
“I really have missed you so much, Hardin.”
Her eyes close and I want to kiss her, I want to feel her lips hot against mine, but she just told me she wants to take it slow. “I missed you, too.”
She rests her forehead against mine and I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. “We’re really doing this, then?” I ask, trying not to sound as desperately relieved as I feel.
She sits up and I look into her eyes. The eyes that have haunted me every time I close my own for the last week. She smiles and nods her head. “Yeah . . . I guess we are.”
My arms wrap around her waist and she leans into me once more. “Kiss me?” I practically beg.
She doesn’t try to hide her amusement as she touches my forehead, brushing my hair back. God, I love when she does that.
“Please?” I say.
And she silences me by pressing her lips against mine.
My mouth immediately opens, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to slip his tongue into it. The metal of his lip ring is cool against my lips, and I run my tongue along its smooth surface. The familiar taste of him ignites me, like it always has. No matter how hard I fight it, I need him. I need to be close to him, I need him to comfort me, to challenge me, to annoy me, to kiss me, and to love me. My fingers tangle themselves in his hair, and I tug at the soft strands when his grip on my waist tightens. He said everything I wanted and needed to hear to feel better about my reckless decision to allow him back into my life . . . even though he never actually left. I know I should’ve held out longer, tortured him with waiting the way he tortured me with his lies, but I couldn’t. This isn’t the movies. This is real life—my life—and my life isn’t complete or even tolerable without him. This tattooed, rude, angry boy has gotten under my skin and into my heart, and I know that no matter how hard I try, I can’t get him out.