Page 20

TWENTY

MADELINE

Hours later, I tap my key fob against the door to Hudson’s condo. I slip inside as quietly as I can, smiling as I shrug off my coat and hang it on the hook on the wall.

I didn’t mean to stay out so late, but the drinks were flowing. The food was delicious, the company was even better, and I laughed like I haven’t laughed in years .

I’m happy to be back, though, and I follow the soft glow from the television down the hall to the living room. When I round the corner, I freeze.

Hudson is asleep on the couch, and his body takes up all the cushions. Next to him, Lucy is curled against his chest. Her face is buried in his shirt and his left arm is wrapped around her, as if he’s keeping her from falling off the sofa. Gus and Millie are on the floor beneath them, snoozing soundly.

My breath catches.

It feels like someone is squeezing my heart unbearably tight, and I pull my phone out of my purse so I can capture this moment. I want to be able to remember it two months from now when I’m having a bad day and need something that will make me smile.

Making sure the flash is off, I snap half a dozen pictures of the group. Lucy stirs ever so slightly before grabbing a fistful of Hudson’s shirt and going back to sleep. I walk toward them, wanting to get closer. Wanting to feel like I’m part of the magic of this place, because looking at them brings me immense joy.

The floor creaks under my footsteps, and Hudson cracks open an eye. He blinks and yawns, his sleep-heavy gaze finding mine.

“Hey,” he croaks, and I like how hoarse and rough his voice sounds. “You’re back.”

“I am. Sorry I’m so late.”

“What time is it?”

“Midnight, so way past my bedtime.”

“Knife girl knows how to party. How was your night? Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.” I sit on the edge of the couch near his thighs, and I don’t miss the way he scoots over so I don’t fall off. “Those girls are something else. I learned all about pierced dicks.”

“Casual Saturday night.” He flashes me a smile that’s tired at the edges and sits up. “Lucy did great tonight. I put her to bed around eight thirty after Liam left, but she came back out an hour later. She let me know she couldn’t sleep, so I let her hang out with me. Guess we both passed out at some point.”

“Yeah.” I hold up my phone so he can see the picture of them. “Now I’ve got some blackmail on you, Bombshell.”

“Hope you can’t see any drool in that photo. I didn’t mean to keep her up past her bedtime. She’s been asleep for a while now, I think, and?—”

“It’s the weekend. She’ll sleep a little longer in the morning, and she’ll be fine. Kids are resilient. Much stronger than my ass, because I’m going to be fighting a hangover when the sun comes up. Let me get her to her room so you can head to bed.”

“I can do it.” Hudson climbs off the couch and stands. He scoops Lucy in his arms, looking down at me. “Come say good night, Mads.”

Mads .

I like that.

Hudson steps over the dogs, and they don’t budge. I follow him, and my heart does that weird, painful thing again when he puts a hand on the back of Lucy’s head so she doesn’t bump the wall. When he gently sets her on her mattress and pulls the covers up to her chin.

I expect her to wake up, but she rolls onto her side and lets out a breath. I kiss her forehead, glad she’s safe and content. When I close the door behind me and head for the kitchen to grab a glass of water, I’m surprised to find Hudson lingering by the sink.

“Do you want some food? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” he says. “A couple slices of pepperoni.”

“You couldn’t finish a whole pizza? I’m shocked,” I say.

“We might’ve had six breadsticks first.”

“Ah. The truth comes out.” I laugh and open a cabinet. “I stuffed my face tonight too. I’m pretty sure I’m going to explode like a can of biscuits when I take off my jeans.”

Hudson blinks, and it’s like he moves from unconscious to wide awake in the span of two seconds.

His gaze roams down my body, and he’s never looked at me like this. Intentionally, and without an hurry.

Under his attention, I’m aware of the thin straps of my bodysuit slipping down my arm. The way my breasts are pushed together and how tightly my pants hug my thighs.

It’s like he’s undressing me, almost, and when his eyes get back to my face, they’re full of heat.

“Wow. You look—” He stops mid-sentence. His throat bobs around a swallow. “Incredible.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.” His voice is deeper than before, and he can’t stop staring at my collarbone. “I like your shirt. Top. Thing.”

I think I’m a little drunk.

I think my conversation with the girls earlier is making me a little bold, because instead of hiding, I stay in place. I lean back and rest my hands on the edge of the counter, pushing my chest out ever so slightly.

Hudson’s eyes flick to my breasts for a millisecond before he glances at the floor and cups the back of his neck, acting like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

I wonder what it would feel like if he hooked his thumbs in my bodysuit’s straps and dragged them down my arms. I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on me.

I’ve been wondering about these things more and more lately, and I wonder if he’s wondering about them too.

“Thank you,” I say, and since he looked at me, it’s only fair I look at him.

So, I do.

At his messy hair. At the mark on his arm from the couch cushions and the pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. Even when he’s not trying, he’s a work of art, and my throat goes dry.

“You’re welcome.” He lifts his chin, eyes zeroing in on the corner of my mouth. He steps toward me, and I don’t know what’s happening. “You have something on your face.”

“What?” I brush at my cheek, self-conscious. “Is it gone?”

“No.” Hudson chuckles and licks his thumb. “Give me a second.”

Cupping my chin, he tilts my head back. He moves the pad of his thumb to my face, and I think I’m being electrocuted.

It’s the most physical contact I’ve had in years, and sparks ignite at the base of my spine. A million synapses fire in my brain. My insides are dangerously close to melting into liquid mush, and I’m burning up.

Hudson keeps his eyes on me as he drags his thumb across my skin. It’s torturously slow. Achingly tender, and I stopped breathing ten seconds ago. He goes from my cheek to my jaw to the pulse point on my throat, his touch lingering there.

This is the best feeling in the world.

“Better?” I whisper.

“Perfect,” he says.

He doesn’t pull away, and I don’t step back. We stay exactly as we are, and it takes everything in me to not tilt my head. To not turn my cheek and nuzzle into his embrace, a plant begging for sunlight.

I don’t believe in romance or butterflies, but I do believe in being horny. In needing physical affection to survive, and his single finger is keeping me alive.

“Thank you. And thank you for watching Lucy today. I’m glad I could enjoy some time for myself without feeling like I’m being selfish. Were you two able to communicate okay?”

“Not as well as I would’ve liked—that’s on me—but we managed. Liam brought over a whiteboard, so we used that occasionally. He helped me out with interpreting.” Hudson’s mouth twists into a frown. “I should be doing more.”

“You’re doing enough.” I touch his chest. The threadbare cotton of his shirt is soft against my palm, and his heart is racing. “More than enough. Tell me more about your night.”

“We watched a princess movie while we ate pizza. Had ice cream, obviously.”

My lips twitch. “Obviously.”

“We played a mean game of Scrabble that ended with Liam storming out.”

“Man. I wish I could’ve seen that. It sounds like a good night.”

“Just missing you.” His fingers graze down my neck the tiniest amount before he drops his hand away. I miss him . “It’s late. I should get to bed. Coach is going to kick our asses tomorrow after giving us today off.”

“Me too. What time do you want breakfast in the morning?”

“Want to meet back here at eight?”

“Yeah. I do.” I fill up a glass with filtered water from the fridge and smile at him. I’m already looking forward to it. To seeing him again. “Good night, hockey guy.”

“Good night, Mads.”