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When I step back into the bedroom, I’m greeted by a sight that makes my cock weep.
Maddie is standing next to my bed. Her flawless skin has a warm pink glow from the shower, and her long hair is damp and piled high on top of her head.
I desperately want to run my tongue up the length of her bare neck until she’s squirming. One taste is never going to be enough.
One of the clean Crucible tees from the basket at the foot of my bed is swallowing her, but it fails to hide the bare thighs I want wrapped around me or her hard nipples brushing against the soft fabric. She’s fucking perfect, and I’m fucking screwed.
I run my hand over my face and remind myself of Cade’s rules.
No drama.
No booze.
No women.
Three days left, and I know, without a doubt I’m breaking at least one tonight.
* * *
Maddie
I’ve been kissed before.
But I never enjoyed it.
I’ve never been able to get out of my head.
To get comfortable. To feel safe.
It was never anything likethat.
I was always aware of the hands on my body.
And not in anoh wow, I want morekind of way.
Never... Until tonight.
Until Hudson.
And now, he’s standing in front of me in dark-green pajama bottoms and nothing else. Every inch of the beautifully golden skin of his muscled chest is on display. A gorgeous script statingOnly the good die youngis inked across his collar bones, with an intricate Celtic warrior band forming the top of a sleeve on his arm. Black bands and more detail cover his skin. All of it tells a story I’m desperate to know.
He moves across the room with a confidence few men own, and it’s intoxicating. Hud hits a button on the fireplace, and the flames crackle to life as he drops down into one of the two chairs in front of it. “Okay, Madison. Your turn.” He pats the seat next to him, and I pad across the room, my toes sinking into the plush, cream carpeting.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, King? You’ve got training tomorrow.” I smile, knowing my diversion tactic isn’t going to work. But it’s worth a try.
He ignores my attempt to stall. “We’re not starting tomorrow until ten. I’ve got time.” His eyes lock on my bare legs when I take the seat next to him and rest my feet on the gray ottoman in front of us. They come to a stop where his big shirt hits the top of my thighs, and his gaze burns my skin with want staring back at me.
“Fine. What’s your question?” I’m expecting him to ask why I don’t like to be touched. He’s done it before, so it would be logical for him to try again. But he doesn’t.
“How did you end up in social-media management?” Hud kicks his feet up next to mine, and gently nudges me with them.
A softball question to start with, huh?
I can handle this one, and I’m guessing he knows that. We’ve always been peripheral friends. We share a circle. But I think we’ve both paid more attention to each other than either of us has been willing to admit. I think he knows me better than I realized.
And I think I like that.
“Brandon was drafted to play for the Kings my senior year in high school. He petitioned the courts and was granted legal guardianship. I was living with him by the time I graduated and had started handling his social-media accounts for him because he hated doing it. When I started Kroydon Hills University in the fall, I was also doing it for a handful of other players too. It evolved from there, but it wasn’t until Daphne started the Start A Revolution Foundation and brought me on board with them and the Revolution that I finally, officially started my own business.” I shrug. “Scarlet asked me to freelance for the Kings last year, and the rest is history.” I cross one foot over the other and turn his way.
