The bulge in his pants is even larger than before, as my hips rock back and forth over the denim covering his length, creating friction between my legs that feels far too good for me to stop.
In my defense, I keep telling myself to stop. But I can’t. Instead, I just circle my hips deeper and harder, rewarding me with a guttural groan from Hudson that spurs me to grip his hair and retreat away from his kiss so I can see his face.
Desire, passion, and desperation engulf his face, and, Jesus, it’ssosexy.
His hands inch back behind my head, pulling my hair back, exposing my neckline to him. His tongue finds my pulse point and massages my skin as he trails kisses to my jawline back toward my ear.
“I want to be buried inside you. To feel you flutter around me as you scream my name.”
“Holy shit.” The breathy whisper comes out as I moan.
“Hold on to me,” he demands, as he presses into his feet, standing us upright. My arms and legs tighten their hold as he takes a few steps away from the chair. Kneeling, he plants one knee down, followed by the hand that’s not wrapped around me. His strong body holds me, as I cling to him, before he gently lays me on the ground.
He’s hovering over me, his broad frame covering almost everything in my line of sight. He lowers himself, crashing ourlips together, and now it’s his turn to roll his hips into mine. Encroaching between my legs, he nips and sucks at my ear, neck, mouth, and I feel him in places he’s not even touching.
The tingling sensation in my core is building with every touch, and I’m confused as to how we’re both still fully clothed and yet he’s making me feel more aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
He looks at me behind hooded eyes, licking his bottom lip, and a gaze as punishing as the rolling of his hips.
“Hudson...” I whimper, desperate for more.
He throws his head back, closing his eyes before dipping his chin to look back at me.
The determination in his eyes is unwavering. He leans back and begins to unbutton his shirt, and I see the ink lines that decorate the top of his chest. I reach up to trace the lines with my finger when the music fades, and the entire building erupts in hollering.
We’re ripped out of the bubble we were in, as I see money flying over us and next to us. The lights are flashing and people are screaming. I’m shocked that my sheer focus was purely Hudson, and his for me.
Without lifting my head off the ground, I turn to face the crowd, seeing my friends combined with his friends, high-fiving and fist pumping each other.
Hudson leans down and whispers in my ear. “I’m not done with you yet, little red.”
He pushes himself up, taking my hand with him, as he helps me to my feet. I sway, instantly lightheaded, and fall into his arms, grabbing his unusually large bicep to steady myself.
“Come on.” He kisses the top of my head before leading us off the stage and toward the elevators.
Our collective group of friends are still cheering as the elevator chimes to allow us entrance.
I remember bracing myself on the elevator wall beforeHudson collided his lips into mine. I recall the power behind his kiss and the ache in my core. Followed by the faint sounds of music, the voice of Elvis overlapping with ringing bells and the promises of, “I do”, just before the taste of cranberries and cinnamon hits my lips.
8
EMBER
Oh, God. Everything hurts.
The incessant pounding in my head matches the sound of my heartbeat as it pulses through my eardrums. I don’t know how much we ended up drinking last night, but I’m certain by the way my eyelids are protesting, it was far too much.
I wonder if Dana can have that hydration IV truck come back today. I didn’t need it yesterday. I, for one hundred percent certainty, need it today.
I roll from my side onto my back as the blanket lowers, exposing more light than my closed lids desire. So, I continue to roll onto my other side, curling up into the pillow next to me.
Except it’s warm. And hard. And muscular.
My eyes flip open, and the instant jab to my irises is like lashes to an open wound. My brain chastises me for it before I squint, turning my face into a pillow that smells like cranberries and spice.
Cinnamon.
Giving my abused eyes a moment to adjust, I slowly open one lid and glance at the corded muscular arm that takes upthe center of the bed. I trail my eyes up the lines that ink his light olive skin, following the intricate design and colors that collide on his shoulder and over his collarbone.
