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Chapter Five
She was going to murder Hudson. All of this talk about her not seeing anyone she knew here and who was the first person he introduced her to? Jethro Fucking Del Bosque, that’s who.
Tension was buzzing so loudly in her ears she didn’t even hear Hudson introduce her to Jethro but the man stuck out his big hand for her to shake and she took it on reflex. It swallowed her own, but she did as she had been taught and gave him a good firm shake.
She may be small but she wasn’t weak. And even if her brain was feeling from concussed from her worlds colliding, she wouldn’t forget her manners.
It didn’t matter that Jethro’s hand was rough and warm and his touch made her knees grow weak—she wasn’t going to be some simpering submissive for him. Which wasn’t fair. She didn’t know any subs who actually simpered.
Then she felt a nudge to her side, and she blinked herself out of her haze to look at Hudson. “Yeah?”
He cocked his head and eyed her like he was trying to figure her out so she plastered on a pleasant smile. No one ever questioned women when they were smiling—their default state was supposed to be pleasant. Which was bullshit but she used it often to her advantage in business deals. People expected her father to be ruthless but she was the one they really had to watch out for.
“You alright, there, Twinkle? You look a little shell-shocked.”
“No, I’m good.”
She made her smile bigger but of course she should know by now Hudson wasn’t just another man who would let her be if she said she was fine because he didn’t want to deal with her if she wasn’t.
“You’re flushed. It’s hot in here, isn’t it? I’ll get you some water. Can’t have you passing out when you’re supposed to be passing out presents.”
Hudson laughed at his own joke and before she could argue with him, he was gone from the room in a few long strides. Too tall bastard.
She snapped her gaze to Jethro who was still standing there, looking all delicious in jeans that showed off his thick thighs and…was that a grey henley underneath his half-unbuttoned green plaid flannel shirt? Had the man read a manual on how to make her mouth water? For fuck’s sake.
She opened her mouth but before she could say a word, he cut her off.
“I don’t want you to worry,” he said, setting his hands on his hips and framing the narrow width of them. “I’ve been a member at Hive for years and I would never mention to anyone that I saw you here. First of all because that would be a total shit thing to do but second because you know Ian, Ryker, and Hudson would hunt me down and murder me if I was anything except entirely discreet. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable but I promise you’ve got nothing to fear from me.”
His earnest assurances and the fact that even though he knew her name he hadn’t used it made her feel a tiny bit better. But only a tiny bit.
It wasn't so much that she truly believed he was going to walk out of here and drive over to the offices of the Clover City Citizen and spill the deets of her secret kinky life to the paper—she didn’t think he would. It was just, well, anxiety sucked.
“Likewise,” she managed to mutter before Hudson came back in bearing a plastic cup in his hand.
Hudson dumped himself into the chair she’d been sitting in while he brushed and braided her hair, and patted his knee. “C’mere, Pocketful.”
Despite Jethro being here, she went to Hudson and perched where he’d directed. It was just so automatic. He’d been her top for so long that her body didn’t question following his orders and she had to face facts—her brain had basically left the building. This wasn’t good.
Lucky for her, Jethro had better boundaries and as she settled onto Hudson’s lap, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and held up his Santa suit. “I’m going to go find Ian and then get changed. See you in a bit.”
Once he was gone, Hudson cuddled her closer and put the cup to her lips. She drank obediently and tried to calm her racing thoughts so she could enjoy this the way she usually did instead of fretting.
What would Jethro say? What would he think? Hell, whatwashe thinking? He obviously knew she was a bottom or sub. Was that going to change the way he thought about her? Looked at her? Talked to her in front of other people?
But no. Some guys might be shitty and make innuendos or drop hints about what they knew but she couldn’t actually picture Jethro being that kind of man. Yes, he flirted with women, but they always started it and she’d never heard him be inappropriate.
“Where’s your head, little girl?” Hudson asked as he drew the empty cup away from her mouth and swiped a thumb over her bottom lip.
She could lie again, but what was the point? Hudson would know and he’d get it out of her sooner or later.
“I know him. Jethro. We volunteer together. Were actually at the same event like an hour ago.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I’m not worried that he’s going to be a dickwad or anything.”
“He won’t be. I’ve known Jethro for years and he’s a good guy. Trustworthy, I swear.”
