Page 42 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)
Emery
With my face tipped back, my eyes closed, and a sage green floral print sundress swishing around my thighs from the light breeze, I soak in the last of the summer sun while I wait for Hudson outside of the apartment building.
The skin of my cheeks, shoulders, and arms is deliciously warm, which makes me wish I could live somewhere this sunny all year round.
Fall is only a couple of weeks away and then winter. I frown at that thought. I fucking hate winter. There is literally no other sensation that I hate more than being cold. And I’m always cold if there is no heat source outside of my own body heat.
Fuck, there are times when I’m lying in bed, two or three layers of clothes on and whatever blankets I have available, and I still can’t get fucking warm.
Maybe this year, I can spend a little of the money in my account to fix that? I could get a fancy duvet, with double bamboo duck feathers or whatever. Oh, ohhh, I could get an electric blanket. Holy shit, yes.
Actually, why wait? I should be able to order that shit online, right?
I straighten and start to search the internet on my phone when the quietest fucking car I have ever heard pulls up in front of me. The only reason I even notice it is because the gravel crunches beneath the tires.
Hudson’s black sports-car-looking Tesla has stopped in front of me, and I grin at the memory of picking out his car. They’d all been so sure I’d get it wrong.
Which reminds me—Darcy still owes me a favor. I need to remember that for when I see him next.
The apartment building has one of those little private half-circle driveway things, which I discovered this morning. It’s on the other side of the building to the street walk-up and is where the exit on the far side of the security desk leads to.
A second later, I hear a barely there pop as the driver’s door opens and an Abercrombie model gets out of the car. Hudson and his fucking perfect blond hair. I want to stick my hands in it and mess him up.
He walks around the front of his car, adjusting his white and peach polo before stopping before the curb and pushing his sunglasses into his hair.
To his credit, he doesn’t check me out for long—personally, I would have done that with the shades still down—but there is a little twitch at the corners of his mouth when he spots my sneakers.
In my defense, I didn’t think I’d be going out and about. The dress was only going to be worn in the apartment for their viewing pleasure. Without panties. But here I am, with panties and sneakers. Oh well.
Hudson’s gaze returns to my face. “Ready?”
Okay, so no hello , then.
“Yep, where do you want my bags?” I clench the strap of my backpack as nervousness makes my stomach quiver.
He raises an eyebrow and then, as if seeing them for the first time, notices my backpack and duffel on the floor. “I take it I’m not dropping you back off here when we’re done?”
I tip my head to the side and all but roll my eyes at him, laying the sass on as thick as I can, which is hard because the voice in my head is screaming not to push him away.
“If today’s shopping trip is anything like the last one, I’m going to go home with an excessive number of bags.
How do you think I’m going to get them, plus these bags, from here back to my place? ”
Intentionally, I do not use the words dorm or anything that will remind him that I’m a student. It’s just him and me. Hudson and Emery. Viper and Kitten.
Nothing else matters right now.
I can literally see the wheels turning in his head as he starts to turn the problem over in his mind.
Not wanting him to get too far down a path that involves him putting me in a rideshare or something after we are done for the day—because I have plans—I pout, lower lip out, chin tipped down a little, and the best fucking sad puppy eyes I can manage. “Please?”
The silent Daddy hangs between us.
My heart is hammering a mile a minute, but I force myself to keep my act going. I have a feeling Hudson actually likes it when I push back, just a little.
Hudson points a finger at me, eyes narrowed and lips tight. “Don’t.”
I straighten up and smile, all innocent and wide-eyed. “Don’t what?”
He strides forward and takes the backpack from my shoulders, his fingers brushing mine. “You know exactly what.”
I fold my arms over my chest, to hide the shiver that small amount of skin contact gave me, and shrug one shoulder. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
He makes a sound of annoyance as he turns to the car, opens the door—which also, how? There wasn’t an actual handle—and holds it open for me. “Get in the car, Emery.”
And we are back to Emery.
I guess I found his limit for how much bratting is okay.
Fine. I can be good. For a little while, anyway.
Quietly, I slip into the car, careful to tuck my dress under me. The seat is a lot lower than I’m anticipating, but I make it work, and once I’m in, I look up to give him a smile, but he’s already shutting the door.
He turns his back on me, hands on his hips as he stares at my duffel on the ground. With every second that passes by, my stomach clenches more. Did I push too far? Is he going to cancel our shopping trip?
Or maybe not far enough?
Opening my phone, I tap on the camera app, make sure it’s facing me, and then I spread my legs, lift my skirt, and take a photo of my baby-blue lace panties. I quickly check the picture and confirm that I can see how the Brazilian-style panties disappear just past my pussy. Perfect.
As fast as possible, I swap over to my messages and go to our thread, where the last message I received from him was a yes and to be waiting at the entrance at ten.
I attach the picture, type out a quick message, and hit send, then turn and watch out the window.
Me: Blue, just for you.
Hudson’s back relaxes as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He stares at it for several very long, drawn-out seconds before he tips his head back and stares at the sky, phone still gripped in his hand by his side.
Is he praying for someone to give him strength?
I snicker at the thought.
Today is going to be so much fucking fun.