After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
I match my breathing to hers and run my fingers through the mess of blond hair sprawled across my chest. I’m still pissed at her, and at Zed, but I love her and I’m trying to prove to her that I’m changing for her. I can’t deny that our communication is one thousand times better than it used to be.
She’s going to be pissed at me at least one more time because of Zed, but he needs to know that she’s mine and that if he fucking touches her again, he’s dead.
chapter one hundred and fifteen
I lie on top of Hardin’s chest to catch my breath. Both of our bare chests are moving slowly up and down in our postcoital bliss. It doesn’t feel as foreign as I had believed it would, not at all. I was desperately missing being intimate with him; I know that making love so soon, before anything has been determined, may not have been the best idea, but right now, as his fingers trail up and down my spine, it sure feels like it.
I can’t stop picturing the way his body looked underneath mine as he lifted his hips off the mattress to fill me completely. We’ve slept together many times, but this time goes down as one of the best. It was so intense and sincere and full of want—no, need—for each other.
Hardin’s temper got the best of him only a short while ago, but as I stare up at him his eyes are closed and his lips are slightly upturned.
“I know you’re staring at me, and I have to take a piss,” he finally says, and I can’t help but giggle. “Up you go.” He lifts my body at my hips to lay me beside him.
Hardin’s hands run through his hair and he pushes the loose fringe back to bare his forehead while he retrieves his clothing from the floor. He remains shirtless and disappears from the room, leaving me to get myself dressed. My eyes dart to his worn T-shirt on the floor, and out of habit I bend down to pick it up but then drop it again. I don’t want to push things or make him angry, so I should just stick to my own clothing for now.
It’s nearly eight, so I go ahead and pull on a pair of loose sweats and a plain T-shirt. The wreckage from Hardin’s outburst covers the floor, so I take it upon myself to begin putting everything back in its place; the clothes from my drawers are my first task. Hardin enters the room as I’m zipping my suitcase full of novels.
“What are you doing?” he asks. He holds a glass of water and a muffin in one of his large hands.
“Just straightening up,” I say quietly.
I’m slightly nervous that we’ll slide back into fighting again, so I’m unsure of how to behave. “Okay . . .” he says, placing the glass and snack on the dresser before walking over to me.