Chapter 2
Hudson “Torpedo” Brown yawned and stretched in the early morning light, spread out on his bed beneath the sheets. His gaze landed on the clock at his bedside, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Oh-five-hundred. He didn’t even need an alarm anymore, his body accustomed to waking up early for PT after years of grueling training. Scrubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw, he grinned.
He’d gotten Layton’s digits before he left yesterday, and without wasting any time, had shot off a flirty text last night before he’d gone to bed. There was no time to move slowly when the woman was literally flying home in a few days’ time. He wanted to lock in their plans for the weekend. They’d arranged to have dinner on Saturday at a cozy ocean-front restaurant, and he planned to do a little wooing before then. Convince her to spend the night.
Layton was into him. He’d caught her staring at him more than once as they’d helped her sister move in yesterday, and the chemistry between them was off-the-charts. He was a little surprised to learn she was divorced. There was a lot to potentially unpack with that, but Hudson wouldn’t be dating her. Starting a relationship. Both of them knew what this was and what it wasn’t.
She was leaving.
And hell if he didn’t want one hot night to sample all the deliciousness that was Layton O’Connell before she was gone.
His cock twitched as he thought about her in those short shorts she had on yesterday. The woman was cute as hell—not that most women enjoyed being called cute. She was petite, but curvy and toned in all the right places. Sexy without even trying. Layton had long, blonde hair. Pretty skin. Pouty, kissable lips. The tank top she wore yesterday hugged her perfect breasts, the slight dip in the top showing off her cleavage. And when she’d turned around to grab water bottles from the fridge? That smoking hot ass. Her shorts had skimmed over it delectably, and it had been all he could do not to cage her in against the kitchen counter, give her ass a little squeeze, and taste those lush lips for himself. Listen to her whimpers and moans. Show her how good a night together could be.
Hudson licked his lips, biting back a grin. He grabbed his phone, scanning over some of their messages from last night.
Hudson: Saturday it is. Looking forward to it. ;)
Hudson: What are you up to tonight?
Layton: Just trying to decide between the guestroom floor or crashing on the sofa. Em does have a sleeping bag I can use, but neither seem optimal.
Hudson: I have a big…bed.
Layton: I bet you do.
Hudson: You’re welcome to stay here, princess. I promise not to steal all the covers. Of course, I’d be more than happy to keep you warm. ;)
Layton: Princess?
He smirked. That was the part of his text that she’d questioned?
Hudson: Wasn’t there some princess who was fussy about where she slept? Dunno. I didn’t read too many bedtime stories as a kid.
Layton: Hudson.
Layton: :(
Hudson: Don’t feel sorry for me.
Layton: Imagine me rolling my eyes.
Hudson: I’d rather imagine you doing other things.
Layton: Be good.
Hudson: Yeah, yeah. Can’t promise that.
Layton: You’re trouble.
Hudson: Trouble can be fun. I’ve got PT bright and early, so guess I’ll just have to look forward to Saturday if you’re turning down my offer to come over tonight.
Layton: Night night, sailor.
Hudson: Sweet dreams, princess.
He smiled as he set his phone back on the nightstand, wondering if he’d made her blush. He hadn’t texted anything racy, but damn. The way Layton flushed around him was appealing as hell. He wondered if she’d blush as he stripped her bare, kissing her gorgeous body everywhere. Tasted that sweet spot between her thighs.
He could tell from her heated looks that she wanted him, and hell if he didn’t crave her just as badly.
Ironically, Layton was the type of woman he’d actually want to date, but that was neither here nor there. Probably part of her appeal was that he knew she wouldn’t be clingy and needy afterward. She’d go back to her life in Virginia, and he’d have given her a memorable night.
Groaning, he sat up in bed to get ready for PT. His eyes briefly landed on his locked bedroom door. Hudson had gotten in the habit as a child of locking himself in the bedroom at night to keep out the other foster kids. The abusive parents. The shit he’d dealt with.
Not that he’d always had a room of his own. Or a fucking door.
No. Hudson had learned to defend himself early on. He solved things with his fists and his size. Once he’d aged out of the system, he hadn’t looked back. It was damn near a miracle that he’d gotten into the military without getting arrested first.
He huffed out a breath as he rose from the bed, striding to the bathroom in only his boxers.
That shit might’ve been a lifetime ago, but old habits died hard. He could defeat whatever harm came at him through his bedroom door better than any flimsy lock. That didn’t mean he’d ever sleep with the bedroom door wide open.
Briefly, he mused over his plan to bring Layton to his place. He didn’t usually spend the entire night with a woman, so he didn’t need to worry about her questions. Funny that the idea of Layton in his space didn’t bother him. She hadn’t pressed for more information yesterday when he’d mentioned growing up in the system, but he knew from her texts that she was empathetic.
He’d felt protective of her since the moment they’d met on the beach. While Hudson had called 911, the others retrieved both sisters from the water. Sawyer “Saint” Collins had gotten Layton most of the way to shore, along with her kayak. She’d been trembling. Panicked. Hudson hadn’t given a second thought to taking her hand and guiding her to safety.
When she’d clung to him in a panic, it was like all of his protective instincts had roared to life, and he wanted nothing more than to soothe her.
And damn if he hadn’t noticed her yesterday, struggling with the heavy box. He’d wanted to lift her right into his arms, but he’d resisted. Barely.
Glancing at the clock again, he got a move on. It wasn’t like him to stall in the morning, but then again, he wasn’t normally thinking about a gorgeous woman either.
***
Hudson muttered a curse as he strode into the bullpen that evening, his teammates speaking in low voices around him. Their CO had called them in for an urgent briefing, and the team was now readying to deploy the following morning. That pretty much fucked up his plans for the weekend. Layton would be long gone by the time they returned from their op. Sure, he could find another pretty girl somewhere, but hell. It wouldn’t be her.
“Shit timing,” Hudson muttered as he sank into a chair by Aaron.
His teammate’s frustrated gaze slid toward him. “No kidding. At least we got Emersyn moved in, but damn. I had plans to wine and dine her this weekend.”
Hudson smirked. Aaron’s love interest would be there when they returned. But her sister? She’d be back to selling homes in D.C. His teammates continued talking around him while they waited to begin the briefing, and Hudson’s mind wandered. Layton had said little about her ex-husband, aside from his cheating. He wondered what the hell would possess a man to cheat on a beautiful woman like her. Some guys couldn’t seem to keep their dick in their pants, but damn. Why commit to a marriage if the asshole wanted to sleep around? Layton was funny, sweet, and hotter than hell. He didn’t know her ex but already hated the guy.
Hudson’s own parents had been divorced, although he barely remembered them. He had no idea what had become of his deadbeat dad, but when his mother couldn’t handle parenting a young, rambunctious boy anymore, he’d been put into the system, and that was that. There’d been no looking back.
Suddenly, Commander Harrison “Harley” Madden slammed the phone down at the front of the bullpen, cursing as he looked up at his men. At forty-five, with short-cropped, dark blond hair and chiseled features, he was older than the guys on the team but had the strength and endurance to keep up with any of them. He was tough and no-nonsense but a well-respected leader amongst the SEALs.
“They’ve sped up the timeline for departure,” Commander Madden announced, and Hudson’s fists clenched. “The team goes wheels up at oh-four-hundred tomorrow morning.”