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29
SUMMER
Hudson’s kiss is raw, unrestrained, overwhelming. His fingers feather into my hair, soft at first, but then he grabs a firm hold and pulls my head back, allowing him to slant his kiss deeper.
He’s kissing me like he’s dying of thirst and I’m the only thing he can drink.
“This,” he manages to say through the tangling of our lips, “this is how I’ve wanted to kiss you. Every fucking day.”
His words are breathless and desperate as I kiss him back. Hudson eliminates any chance of me responding to his words when his tongue presses past my lips, curling around mine. I draw his tongue deeper into my mouth and suck on it. He growls, pressed so close to me that I can feel the vibration from his chest.
The feeling makes me realize how taut and firm my nipples are, so firm that they ache. I press myself against the hardness of his body, dying to feel more of him.
Hudson’s hand falls on my inner thigh, his grip curling into the softness of the sensitive area. Suddenly, I’m incredibly aware of how badly I’m aching for him.
Liquid heat pools low in my core, and when my thighs clench from his touch, I feel the warm slickness between my legs. I’m soaked. Soaked for him.
I press harder into the kiss, spurred by the wet heat between my legs.
“I want you, Hudson,” I rasp.
My words cause his grip to tighten, both in my hair and on my high. Desire throbs between my legs, and I feel my clit going taut with need.
The sound he makes in his throat is primal. It’s closer to a roar than a growl, and it drips with raw, masculine desire.
I reach between his legs to feel for confirmation of that desire, and when my hand glances against the huge outline in his pants, hard as a steel beam, the breath wooshes out of me.
The ache between my thighs sharpens, imagining his hardness right there, at my opening.
Hudson loops his arm underneath my legs and stands up, hoisting me with him effortlessly.
“My room,” I say, only breaking the kiss we’re still tangled in long enough to say those words.
Another low growl is the affirmative answer I get.
Being carried up the stairs, weightless in Hudson’s thick arms bulging with muscle and dense with tattoos, is a heady feeling that intensifies every excited, lustful response firing in my body.
In my room, Hudson quickly strips my clothes off until only my panties remain. His eyes are wide, bright with desire and appreciation at every new area of my body he reveals. He moans in appreciation, curses dropping from his lips as he runs his rough hands over my nakedness.
I’ve never felt more desired. Hudson’s appreciation makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the world.
I’m lying on my bed when Hudson pulls off his shirt, and now it’s my turn to be appreciative. Because holy fuck. His body.
He’s perfection. His muscles are sculpted, his chest wide and hard, his shoulders impossibly broad, and he’s covered with tattoo designs that accentuate every hard line of his torso, every ridge and valley of his sculpted physique.
Then he steps out of his tight boxers, and the tiny bit of breath I didn’t know I still had gets stolen from me.
His cock springs up, throbbing. My heart pounds against my chest, anticipation mixing with a sliver of worry over how I’m going to take his size.
Hudson’s hands grip my panties and pull them down my legs. He bites his bottom lip, getting his first look at me totally exposed.
“Fuck,” he growls, dropping to his knees and propping my thighs onto his shoulders.
My stomach feels like it’s bouncing up and down, tension and anxiety winding me tightly, the pulsing need between my thighs only growing stronger now that Hudson face is so close to my slit.
“Look how fucking wet you are for me,” he marvels. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been wet like this for me, is it?”
“No,” I admit.
