The thought of her sleeping rough stirs a dark tension in me. A powerful need to protect her, keep her safe forever, give her a bed—mybed…forever—tightens my chest. I want to tell her she never has to couch surf again. I want to know why she needs to? “I tell you what,” I say instead, “when it comes time for sleep, I’ll paper-rock-scissors you for the right to the bed.”
Lips twitching, she narrows her eyes. “Hmm…”
“Trust me.” I grin.
With a soft chuckle, she nods. “Okay.”
She takes another sip. I watch her. Her eyes find mine. Holds them. I swallow.
“Thank you,” she says, the words almost a whisper.
“For?”
“For not asking why I couch surf.”
My throat thickens. “If there is anything I can do to help?—”
“I’m a full-time student,” she says, tucking a strand of ringlets behind one ear. “Film and TV special effects makeup. Tuition fees are ridiculous, and accommodation in Melbourne isn’t cheap. Plus, the rental market is ludicrous at the moment. And I…” She pauses, and an unreadable tension falls over her. “I had to leave my job a little while ago. So I crash out on friends’ sofas.” She shrugs. “It’s not ideal, but it’s okay.”
“Have you thought of moving north?” I ask before I realize I’m saying it.
She grows still, glancing over her shoulder. “I hope it’s okay I put my wet clothes in the bathroom?”
A prickling heat crawls over my scalp, and I force out a relaxed laugh, even as I’m a knotting mess of guilt and self-disgust inside. Whatever charged energy I think is between us, it’s not. She’s making it very clear. I’m being a creep.
I need to control myself.
“It’s okay,” I reply with a loose smile. I make a show of checking my watch. “In fact, given the time?—”
“I’m not tired,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “I…”
She takes a step toward me. Licks her lips.
A hot, tight pressure clamps around my chest. My balls suddenly ache. “You what, Iris?”
She takes another step to me. Bites her bottom lip this time and slowly, slowly reaches out and brushes her fingers over my jaw. “Ithis, Hudson,” she whispers and rises up onto tiptoe, and touches her lips to mine.
Chapter Eight
Hudson
With a growl into her mouth, I haul her to my body, one hand on her incredible arse, the other fisting her wild hair at the back of her head. Her soft curves press to me in intoxicating perfection, and my cock pulses, demanding to be inside her sweet heat.
Fuck, I want her. Want to claim her. Take her. Brand her as mine.
Steady, a little voice shouts in my head.Steady.
Tearing my lips from hers, I suck in a choppy breath and stare down into her upturned face. “Iris,” I rasp, squeezing the sublime swell of her butt cheek. “From the second I saw you, I wanted you. On a level that’s almost primitive. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, but I do promise I will give you so much pleasure you?—”
She silences me with a hungry kiss, hands cupping my face. Rolling her hips, she grinds the soft curve of her sex to my trapped erection, and my head swims as blood surges to my already engorged cock.
Another growl vibrates deep in the back of my throat, turning into a moan of concentrated lust as she anchors her arms at the back of my neck and jumps and wraps her thighs around my hips.
The heat of her spread pussy kisses my cock through our clothes, and I squeeze both of her arse cheeks, holding her there. No fucking way am I letting her go.
Balling a fist in the hair at my nape, she pulls my head back, her gaze finding mine. Lust burns in her eyes, and my cock responds, a thick, impatient spasm that’s borderline painful. “Fuck me, Hudson,” she says. “Please? I don’t want you to be gentle. I just want you. Inside me. Now.”
Harder than I’ve ever been, and my soul ablaze with desire, I lower us both to the floor. No way am I wasting time carrying her to my bedroom. The rug in front of the fireplace is thick lambswool, and besides, I don’t want to disturb Archie.
