He shook his head, not wanting to interrupt her, but God, she was the sweetest, sexiest thing he’d ever seen and she had no idea. Not a single one. “Are you a virgin, Bailey?”
She sighed. “No, but I can see why you’d ask me that. I don’t know how to say this, that’s all.”
“Just say it,” he said quietly. “You can say anything to me, anything at all.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m having trouble finding words because I’ve never done this before. A one-night thing. I’ve been with someone. I was in a relationship with him for a long time. But this… me vocalizing it, that’s new to me.” She drew in a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I want a one-night stand.” She met his gaze, clearly waiting for his reaction.
He opened his mouth and then closed it again. She’d been in a long-term relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted from him. What she wanted from him was just a fuck. He was trying to figure out why that bugged the shit out of him when she went on.
“With you,” she said. “In case I wasn’t clear. I want you.”
“For tonight,” he clarified.
“Yes.”
Ignoring the unmistakable flash of disappointment—What the hell is that about?—he pulled her inside, kicked his door shut, and gently pushed her up against the wood and cupped her face. “You need to be sure.”
“I am.” She blinked. “Are you? Because it’s okay if you’re not. I can find someone else. I can make a list.”
This stopped him. She could make a list? Of who? Not important, he told himself. Shake it off. “You’re not going to need a list for this, Bailey.”
She stared at him. “No?”
Hell no. “I already told you that I want you. Now I’m going to show you.” He gave her a few beats to absorb that before he leaned in and kissed her, putting every ounce of his want and need into it. In answer, she moaned and wound her arms around him.
Without breaking the kiss, he straightened and cupped the backs of her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist.
And then he carried her to his suite.
Bailey was already completely lost in Hudson by the time he carried her through the place. So lost that she didn’t even look around to appease her curiosity. She couldn’t and she didn’t want to break off from kissing him. And, oh Lord, his kisses… She loved the way he kissed. Lots of lip movement, lots of tongue. It made her wild. No one had ever kissed her like Hud did, like he couldn’t get enough of her.
She really hoped no one else was around, not that she would’ve noticed. She was very busy as he carried her, silently flirting with her hands, running them over his shoulders and arms, pressing in as close as she could get.
Hud was much more up-front. His hands teased, stroking over her back and hips, squeezing a butt cheek in each hand, his lips hot on her throat. From what seemed like far away she felt and heard him kick a door closed, and then they were alone in a large, open-style suite.
He shifted, holding her with one hand under her ass, using his other to slide the lock into place.
She lifted her head and stared at him as, with her arms and legs still wrapped around him like a monkey, he climbed onto a huge bed and lay all that luscious male weight on top of her. Wearing only a towel… “Hud,” she whispered.
He rubbed his jaw to hers like a big cat. Only this big cat had just the right amount of stubble to make her weak kneed. Good thing she wasn’t standing because God, he was just so big and hard—everywhere. And gloriously male.
That’s when her nerves set in. Maybe she should’ve set her sights lower, maybe on someone who also hadn’t done this in a long time. Yeah, that would’ve been smarter. A little practice never hurt anyone. She gulped. “Maybe we should have a drink first—” She broke off with a helpless moan when Hud found the spot where her neck met her shoulder and nibbled on it, melting her bones.
“After,” he murmured.
She made a noise that was half a laugh, half panic.
Lifting his head, he studied her. “You’re nervous.”
“No.” She swallowed. “Okay, yes.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“How is that good?” she demanded.
“It puts us on even ground.”
She stared up at him, her fingers somehow tangled in his hair. When had she done that? Oh, right, when she’d been holding his face to hers so that he couldn’t take his mouth away. “You expect me to believe you’re nervous?” she asked, heavy on the disbelief. “Hello, have you seen you?”
He smiled. “Maybe you won’t like my moves.”
She snorted. He was teasing her. He knew damn well she liked him and his moves. Way too much, in fact.
“Maybe I’m nervous that I won’t do it for you,” he said, and at that, she outright laughed. As if!
Having suitably distracted her, he went to lift off her sweater, but she put her hands over his. She had a scar above her right breast two inches long and red and angry from the port where she’d received chemo treatments. She wasn’t ashamed of it, actually the contrary. The scar represented her treatment—her successful treatment. But she understood that it wasn’t pretty and that it certainly wasn’t conducive to a sensual mood. “Um,” she said brilliantly.
His gaze met hers. “We stopping?”
She squirmed a little bit, knowing men were visual creatures. She didn’t want to talk about it nor did she want to watch him pretend to ignore it. “I’m… It’s just that—” She sucked on her bottom lip a moment. “No. I don’t want to stop. I really, really don’t.”
He smiled warmly. “I’m with you on that.”
She nodded but didn’t lift her hands from his. Hud didn’t push, just waited with a patience that made it easier for her to speak. “It’s just that I have this scar…” she started.
“Do you? Me too.” He lifted up a little, pointing to a slash on his left side from his highest rib to his lowest. It was an old scar, faded and white, but she could only imagine what pain it’d caused. “What happened?” she asked, running a finger along the tender spot, fascinated by the way his ab muscles bunched under her touch.
He cleared his throat but when he spoke, his voice still sounded rough. “Jacob and I tried to fly from the top of our storage shed when we were ten.” He lifted a shoulder. “Turns out we weren’t related to Superman.”
She laughed and then bit her lip. “Mine’s my port scar. From treatment.”
“I could kiss it all better.”
This sounded like a really, really great idea.
“Trust me,” he said softly.
She stared up at him. She’d known him for all of what, three weeks? So the idea should have been ludicrous. But the fact was that she did trust him. Way more than she was comfortable with, in fact. She nodded, probably like a bobblehead.
With a smile, he kissed her and again reached for her sweater. He pulled it over her head and they both looked down at the pale peach cami she wore beneath—which was when she remembered something else. No bra today. “I didn’t have a chance to do laundry before I left Denver,” she said quickly. “And—”
He let out a low, very male sound of approval at the sight of her thin, washed-a-million-times cami, apparently liking the way her nipples were trying to poke their way free to get to him. Then he encouraged the straps of the cami to slip, allowing his big hands to dip into the gaping front and cup her breasts.
“Oh,” she breathed on a shuddering exhale, her head falling back. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have hands on her for reasons that had nothing to do with saving her life and everything to do with sheer pleasure.
“Okay?” he murmured.
“Very,” she whispered, eyes closed. “More please.”
He laughed softly, his warm breath caressing her throat as he did. “So polite.”
“I t-t-try,” she managed, stuttering as he lifted the cami up and over her head.
When he didn’t make a sound or move, she covered her scar and s
ighed. “I told you,” she said, and opened her eyes.
He bent and kissed her fingers. Then he pried them away from her body and kissed the scar itself. “You’re beautiful,” he said against her skin. “Every inch of you, in and out. Don’t apologize for the scar. It’s a part of you, a really important part.”
She smiled, the words warming her. “I wasn’t worried for me,” she said softly. “I just didn’t want to wreck your mood with it.”
He let out a low laugh, shook his head, and leaned in. “You’re amazing,” he said, and brushed his mouth over hers. “Don’t ever worry about my mood. My mood is not your problem or your responsibility. Ever. And in any case, you elevate my mood.” He stroked his hands down her torso and went straight for the button on her jeans.
“Hudson?”
He lifted his head from his task and looked at her, his eyes so dark they appeared nearly black, heavy lidded with all sorts of thoughts that seemed entirely about her and entirely erotic.
And she promptly forgot what she wanted to say.
Leaning up, he cupped her face and kissed her, soft, sweet. “Bailey, if you’re not ready—”
“No.” She put her fingers over his mouth and shook her head. “I’m ready,” she promised. She kissed his jaw and then rubbed her cheek against it, letting out a low hum of arousal at the feel of his stubble on her skin. He had a scent that every single one of her senses responded to. The texture of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the latent strength in his hands—everything about him did it for her. “I want this,” she said. “I want you.” She moved her hands down his sides, trying to absorb the feel of him. Her fingers found the edge of his towel and she reached to unknot it.
Catching her hands in his, he slowly slid them up to either side of her head. He looked at her for a long moment, and the intensity with which she wanted him actually hurt. “I was thinking now,” she murmured.
He laughed low and sexy in his throat and kissed her then—long, languid kisses that brought a slow build. Rocking up into him, she tugged her hands free, gliding them over his silky smooth shoulders and back, then lower to explore over his towel.
And then beneath.
With a growl, he sucked on her lower lip, then slid away from her mouth to kiss and nip along her jaw and down her throat. When he found the sweet spot at the curve of her shoulder she involuntarily squeezed her thighs against his sides, trying to arch up into him and ease the pressure building inside her.
He rewarded her desperation by rocking that amazing body against hers. She’d been this far before with a man she knew far better and for much longer. She’d been further before.
But this time, with Hudson, felt different. Aaron had always been in careful control and very, very gentle, as if she’d been a fragile flower. So gentle it’d kept her from letting go.
Here, with Hud, there was nothing holding her back. “Hudson,” she whispered, moaning when he bent his head to her bared breasts, using his warm hands and then his even warmer mouth.
Need rolled over her in waves. Desperate, clawing need, and his name tumbled from her lips again, a cry this time. She could feel herself oscillating her hips to his, rubbing his erection against her center. Mindless, she’d twined herself around him, gasping when he slid his hands to her ass.
Her bare ass.
He’d slid off her jeans without her even knowing. The little bikini panties she wore matched her cami, the one now on the floor somewhere. “Pretty,” he said. And then he dragged them slowly down her legs, sending them flying to land near the cami.
His towel followed.
And then he was back, continuing on with his teasing as her body temperature rose alarmingly. He stretched out beside her, stroking her with his big, warm hands, his fingers dancing over her entire body. When he finally nudged open her thighs, he growled in pleasure as he found a few more places to tease.
But one knowing stroke with those callused fingers and she lost her mind.
Completely. Lost. Her. Mind.
He held her through the shattering orgasm and when she could breathe again, she let out a breathless laugh and stared up at the ceiling.
“Bay? You still with me?”
She blinked. This had already been the best sex she’d ever had and all he’d done was touch her.
He came up on his elbow to look into her eyes. “Yeah,” he said, sounding quite full of himself. “You’re still with me.”
“Show-off,” she managed to say, and quivered again when he bent his head and nibbled her hipbone. She felt his lips curl into a smile as he shifted and sucked a patch of skin into his mouth, making her gasp. When he made as if to move again she dug her fingers into his hair, not wanting him to go.
He merely flashed a grin up at her and easily resisted her. The next thing she felt were his wide shoulders making themselves at home between her thighs and then his tongue, warm and strong and incredibly dexterous.
She cried out and nearly rocked them both off the bed.
He tightened his grip on her and went on with his merry torture, his lips creating a sucking, drawing sensation that left her panting and whimpering in seconds.
But every time her body tightened up, he moved away from her center and rubbed his shadowed jaw against her inner thighs until she swore at him, making him laugh again.
When he wanted her to, she came as shamefully easily as she had the first time. Not that she spent even a nanosecond feeling shameful…
He climbed up her body, staying close, close enough that they were touching from their kissing mouths to their entangled feet, though he carefully held most of his weight off of her. She rubbed against him, touching every inch she could reach.
And then some of those really great inches were covered with a condom and inside her, and her thoughts scattered like the wind, replaced by a feeling that nothing had ever felt as good as this, as him.
Nothing.
Her legs wrapped around his waist—just in case he had some notion about getting away. The world was a better place with him buried deep inside her.
Much better.
Hud nudged her face up, meeting her gaze with his hot one for a beat before he kissed her again, serious now, very serious, as he began to move within her. Slowly at first, letting her adjust, carefully fueling her hunger, her need. But her favorite part was when he let go of his own control and forgot himself, thrusting hard. She gasped and rocked up into him as her name was ripped from his lips in a tight, strained voice that flung her right over the edge into a free fall. And this time, she took him along with her.
When they finally staggered out of his room several hours later, loose, sated, starving, there was a cold pizza waiting on the porch for them.
Chapter 13
Midweek found Hud replaying the night wrapped up in Bailey’s hot bod while simultaneously running a training session an hour after the mountain had shut down. He was a most excellent multitasker. It was already dark out and snowing like a mother, and everyone just wanted to get through the damn training, which was made all the more difficult by the weather.
Which, as Hud knew as head of ski patrol, made perfect conditions to practice in. They had to be prepared for anything, always. The winds kicked up even more with the snow coming in sideways now, blowing right in their faces. Hud had the entire rescue team with him on Devil’s Face practicing extractions when he got a call from his mom.
Another FaceTime call. Damn, he should never have taught her how to use that app, but at least she’d figured out how to look into the camera. Her bright, cheery face filled his phone screen. She lifted a Star Wars lunch box. “Honey, you forgot your lunch.”
He managed to conclude the call, though for the rest of the night his team took turns FaceTiming him to ask if he’d cleaned his room and done his homework. He finally deleted the app.
Things were blessedly quiet for a few days and on Friday, his first night off, he brought his mom dinner.
“Missed you this week,” she said, kissin
g him hello and then looking around him for someone else. “Where’s Jacob? Don’t tell me he’s in detention again. That kid is going to be the death of me. Maybe I should call the principal and tell him that I need him here. Our fence is down again, so I’ll put him on that. It’ll use up some of his energy.”
Guess it’d been a bad week for both of them.
He opened the bag he’d brought with two cupcakes—one with a candle—and hoped that would do.
As for Jacob, he’d heard zip. Nada. Nothing. And although he should be used to this by now, he wasn’t. Through Max, he’d been following Jacob’s unit the best he could, which wasn’t all that well.