Page 37

THIRTY-SEVEN

HUDSON

Madeline is beautiful when she smiles.

She’s beautiful all the time, but seeing her and Lucy laugh through dinner makes my brain do this stupid thing where it pretends there’s a world out there where she likes me as much as I like her.

And, fuck , do I like her.

I caught her sneaking glances at me over her third slice of pepperoni pizza and I panicked, thinking I had sauce on my cheek. When I asked her what was wrong, she only shrugged. Gave me a coy smile and went back to eating.

What I would give to be inside her head.

We watch TV with Lucy on the couch until she falls asleep, curled against my side with a drop of drool dried on her cheek. When she starts to snore softly, I walk her to her room and tuck her in bed. Madeline kisses her forehead then follows me down the hall, her presence all-consuming.

Back in the kitchen, we wash the dishes from dinner in silence. I drop the last plate in the dishwasher and lean against the counter. It’s dangerous to be around her when I’m thinking about her.

I want to take her bottom lip between my teeth. I want to know what she would look like with a hickey on her neck, and I want to pour the last of her wine in her mouth then kiss her until she’s breathless.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, finding neutral ground. It’s safe, polite. The antithesis of the war raging in my head.

“Much better. That time to myself was exactly what I needed. I know I’ve already said it tonight—I’m pretty sure it’s all I’ve said to you since you opened your door to Lucy and me, because you’ve been nothing but kind—but thank you, Hudson. For stepping in. For helping me. For showing me respect in my moments of weakness. And—” Her bottom lip quivers. God, do I want to kiss her. “Thank you for not looking at me differently after I failed as a parent today.”

“Hey.” I step toward her so we’re inches apart. “You didn’t fail at anything. You had an off day because you’re human. Do you know how many off days I’ve had? Hundreds. Thousands, if we’re being honest, and a lot of those have come in the last five years. None of us can be perfect all the time, Madeline, and no one should feel like they’re carrying the weight of responsibilities alone. I’m here. I know I’m not a parental figure to Lucy, but we’re friends. She’s in my life, and I’m glad for it. That’s why I’m going to be better about lending a hand. Not because you’ve done something wrong, but because you’ve done so many things right.”

“Friends.” Her laugh is a heavy exhale, a shake of her head. The sound makes me nervous, and she looks at the floor instead of at me. “I’m starting to hate that word.”

“Did I do something to make you think you’re not my friend?”

“No.” Slowly, hesitantly, she looks back at me. Her eyes are wide with a scorch of heat behind the brown. “When you call us friends, it makes the things I’m thinking about you—the things I’m feeling for you—seem wrong.”

I don’t know what’s going on. I might be dreaming. “What kind of things are you thinking about?”

“Kissing you.” Madeline grabs my shirt like she did on New Year’s Eve. She wraps her fingers in the cotton, cementing herself to me. “Doing more than that.”

“You said that’s not something you want. You told me you wanted to be friends. Just friends.”

“That’s what I wanted before, but it’s not what I want anymore.”

“What do you want?” I ask, terrified to hear the answer.

“You,” she says, and it’s my favorite word she’s ever spoken.

“I’m not kissing you unless you tell me to, Madeline. And if I do, it’s not going to be a one-time, casual thing. It’s not going to be a two-time thing. It’s going to mean something, just like it did on New Year’s, because I’m done pretending like I haven’t thought about that night every single day that’s passed. I have. Excessively. But I don’t act on it because I don’t want you to hide from me again. I don’t want to mess this up. You mean too much to me.”

The words fly out of me. In the morning, I might regret them. I’ll probably want to take them back and kick myself for being so honest, but I’m done playing games.

She’s ingrained on my soul, and life is too short to not tell the people you care about exactly how you feel.

Madeline’s grip on my shirt tightens. I wonder if she’ll walk away or disappear again.

She surprises me when she stands on her toes. I reach for her, cupping her cheeks on instinct, blissfully aware of how fucking soft she is and needing to touch her like I need air.

Her lips pull up into a grin. She lifts her chin, a dare there, before she says, “Fuck it,” and crashes her mouth against mine.

The planets realign.

The earth stops rotating, and this is different from how we kissed on New Year’s.

This is intentional. Something that has purpose and something she’s doing without any provoking.

The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to stop. To cool my fucking jets and think about this for half a second because we’ve been down this road before, and we decided it wasn’t the path we— she — wanted to take.

The other part of my brain?

The other part of my brain is telling me to walk her backward until we reach the island. To lift her onto the countertop and touch her however I want.

So I do just that.

“Hudson.” Her head tips to the side when I set her down. I kiss her neck and the spot below her ear. She smells like the roses she couldn’t stop admiring at dinner, and I think I’m already addicted to her. “Please.”

I don’t know what that please is asking for, but I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to find out.

“What do you need?” I nudge my way between her legs, resting my hands on her knees. She leans back, palms on the counter, and knocks an apple into the sink. “What do you want? What can I give you?”

“Anything. Everything. Just—” She wraps her legs around my waist, urging me closer. I’d tether myself to her if I could. “Don’t stop.”

“The last thing I want to do is stop. I want to make you feel good.” I hesitate, the last piece of my rationality coming to the forefront of my brain when I realize we’re not alone in the condo. “Should we do this here? What about Lucy?”

“She’s a heavy sleeper unless there’s a storm. She won’t wake up until morning. If she needs me, she’ll go to my room first. It’s probably best we do this out here.”

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll stay here.” I move my hands up Madeline’s thighs until I reach her waist. My fingers tease the hem of her shirt, and I untuck it from her jeans. I graze the pad of my thumb along her bare skin, smiling when a soft gasp tumbles out of her. “What do you like, Madeline?”

“It’s been a while.” Her laugh is resigned. The hint of shyness, the cusp of embarrassed. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure.”

“We’ll go slow. We’ll figure it out. It’s been a while for me, too.” I rest my palm on her stomach, listening to her blow out a breath. I trail my touch up to her ribs, and her heart races. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. That’s nice,” she whispers.

“That fucking word,” I say.

Her laugh is beautiful this time, full and bright. “Is spectacular better?”

“We’re getting there.” I kiss her again, and she melts into me like ice in a fire. With her tongue, with her teeth. With a hand that rests on my hip and snaps the waistband of my sweatpants hard enough to make me hiss. “ God , Madeline.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?” She dances her hand across my stomach, dipping her fingers in my briefs, and I suck in a breath. “Like this?”

“You can touch me however you want,” I tell her. “I’ll like anything you do to me.”

Ruin me , I almost say, but I keep that to myself.

I kiss her collarbone. I keep my mouth on her until she’s whimpering, then I dance my thumb along the soft fabric of her bra. Her moan is wicked, a sinful thing, and when I slowly lift the material and move to the underside of her breast, she whines.

“ Oh .”

“Okay?” I ask into the crook of her neck. I suck on the skin there, her throat warm under my tongue. “Too much?”

“More than okay. I told you it’s been a while, and it’s embarrassing how?—”

“Nothing about you could ever be embarrassing.”

She relaxes at that, and I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down. What’s embarrassing is how my body is reacting to her. It’s like I’ve been starved, and now I’m being fed. My cock is aching in my pants, and it’s my turn to groan when I find her hard nipple.

“Could you—” Madeline sighs and rests her hand over mine. She guides me back down her stomach, unbuttoning her jeans and lowering her zipper. “Here?”

I’m going to lose my mind. It’s already halfway gone. I’ve never moved this fast with a woman before. I like to go slow, to not do everything all a once, but when I tug the denim halfway down her thighs, I become certifiably insane.

“I’m going to be rusty,” I admit. “Way off my game.”

“Better than six years. We both might suck.” She laughs again. There’s no hesitation in the way she leans back and tips her thighs open wide. “I know I want this. I want you , Hudson. So badly. If it’s not great, we’ll work on it.”

“Can I look at you?”

“I’d really like it if you did.”

My hand falls away as I step back so I can see her. I don’t know where to look first—at her creamy thighs or the hint of hair sneaking out through the cut of her underwear. The hint of moisture on the white lace or the faded stretch marks on the curve of her thighs.

“You are…” I trail off. Words are hard to find. I can’t even remember my own name. “So fucking beautiful.”

I touch the bow on the front of her thong. I smile when she tilts her head back and lifts her hips. I grin when I press my thumb against her clit, holding her steady when she arches her back.

“Hudson.” She grabs my collar, nails scratching against my neck. “Please.”

I’m tempted to rip the damn underwear off, but I don’t want to rush this—rush her —so I leave them on.

I drop to my knees so I can see her better, so I can hear her better, and I put my hands on the inside of her thighs. I stroke up her legs and touch her again, right where she’s warm and wet.

Christ .

I’m a goner.

“Here?” I rub a slow circle over her clit with my thumb. Her underwear is wet, and I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to have her like this. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.” The word is barely a rasp, and she moves her hands to my hair. She grips the strands nice and rough and gives a tug. “That’s perfect.”

“Better than nice?”

“I hate you.”

“Do you?” I keep circling and reach my other hand up, back under her shirt. I pull the cup of her bra down and roll her nipple between my fingers. “Doesn’t seem like you do.”

“I don’t.” She licks her lips. “How could I when you’re making me feel like I’m on top of the world?”

“We can do better than that. I want to make you see the fucking stars, Golden Girl.”

I’m leaking in my briefs, certain I’ve never been this turned on. I stop touching her chest only so I can palm myself over my sweatpants. So I can give myself the hint of relief by thrusting my hips against my hand, stopping before I can savor it for too long.

I lean forward and kiss her thigh. I drag my tongue up her leg and use my teeth to tug the waistband of her underwear down half an inch so I can kiss her hip bone at the same time I use two fingers to circle her.

Madeline cries out. She holds my shoulder and claws at my neck again.

Am I wrong for being excited to show off the scratches? Am I allowed to be smug at morning skate tomorrow and let my teammates see?

“That’s—I like that?—”

I push up on my knees, dipping my chin and kissing her stomach. “Are you going to come for me, Maddie?”

I slow the circle my fingers are making until Madeline lifts her ass off the counter. My name turns into a rough and low moan that echoes around us when she comes undone, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.

I give in to my moment of weakness—hell, my months of weakness—and shove my hand down my pants. I stroke myself and drop my head against her knee as my warm release covers my palm.

“Holy shit,” I curse when I regain control of my body. “Are you?—”

Her ankles wrap around my neck. I stutter out a groan, ready and willing to become a permanent resident between her legs.

“That was…” Madeline grins. “Yeah.”

“I think we corrupted my kitchen.” I glance up at her pink cheeks and messy hair. “Not sure I can look at this counter the same way after that.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Neither am I.”

“Did you…” Her eyes flick to my sweatpants. “In your?—”

“Come in my pants? Oh, yeah. It’s everywhere. Halfway down my leg. Probably on my foot. The social media comments would have a field day with me. The NHL player who can’t last? The jokes write themselves.”

“I don’t care how long you last.” Madeline puts her finger under my chin, lifting my head so our gazes meet. “My sample size is very small, but no one’s ever wanted me in a way where they lose control.”

I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

I want her again in an hour and in a month down the road.

I want her body and her soul, and I’d get on my knees and beg until I had them.

“Happy to break the streak for you, KG.”

She laughs, and there’s not an ounce of tension between us. It’s perfectly normal, like we’ve done this together a hundred times.

“I’m not going to hide from you, Hudson.” She tugs on my shirt and helps me to my feet. I almost stumble, feeling off-balance and thoroughly satisfied. “I promise.”

I hold up my hand, smiling when she wraps her pinky around mine. “I’m not going to run from you either.”

Madeline looks at her jeans on the floor and laughs again. “I can’t believe we did that. We have two bedrooms, and we picked the kitchen? We’re animals.”

“Any regrets?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “None. You?”

“Nope.” I put my hands on either side of her and bend my neck so I can kiss her. “I’m just getting started with you, Maddie.”