Chapter 9
Layla
Ican’t think. Hudson’s mouth is on mine again, deeper this time, and every coherent thought I’ve ever had scatters like leaves in the wind.
His body is solid between my thighs, one big hand gripping my hip while the other stays under the sweatshirt, thumb brushing slow, devastating circles over my nipple through the damp fabric of my bathing suit.
The friction of him rocking against me is almost too much. Almost not enough.
I’m trembling. I know I am. I can feel it in my legs where they’re wrapped around his waist, in the way my fingers clutch at his bare shoulders like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go. This is happening. This is actually happening.
His mouth leaves mine to trail down my throat, and I tip my head back with a shaky breath.
The workbench is hard beneath me, the edge digging into the backs of my thighs, but I barely notice.
All I can focus on is the heat of his skin, the low sound he makes when I rock against him again, and the way his hand slides from my hip to my lower back, pulling me closer.
“Layla,” he murmurs against my neck, voice rough. “You feel so fucking good.”
The words hit me low and hot. No one has ever said anything like that to me with this much raw honesty. Not in years. Maybe not ever.
I slide my hands down his chest, over the hard planes of muscle, feeling the way his stomach tightens when my fingers brush lower.
I want to touch him everywhere. I want to feel him lose control the way I already am.
But something inside me is pulling back at the same time my body is pushing forward.
His hand slips lower, fingers brushing the edge of my bathing suit where it meets the top of my thigh. The touch is careful. Intentional. Asking without words.
I freeze, but not completely. My hips still move against him in a small, involuntary roll, chasing the pressure. But my breath catches for a different reason now.
Hudson stills immediately. He lifts his head. His eyes are dark, but there’s something else there too. Awareness and restraint.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low.
I nod, then shake my head, then nod again. My hands are still on his chest. I can feel his heart hammering under my palm, just as fast as mine.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I just… I need a second.”
Hudson doesn’t pull away, but he stops moving. His hands stay where they are -- one warm on my lower back, the other resting on my thigh -- but the grinding pressure eases. The kiss slows into something softer. Still deep and hungry, but slower.
I close my eyes and press my forehead to his. Our breaths mingle in the small space between us.
“I want this,” I say, because it’s true. “I really want this. But my brain is … loud right now.”
Hudson lets out a quiet breath that might be a laugh. His thumb strokes gently along the outside of my thigh.
“Mine too,” he admits.
That surprises me enough to make me pull back a little so I can see his face. He looks at me with no judgment, just honesty. Rain still drums on the roof above us. The storm hasn’t passed yet.
“I keep waiting for the part where this feels like a mistake,” I tell him.
My voice comes out smaller than I want it to.
“I keep waiting for the voice in my head that says I’m being stupid.
That I’m too old for this. That you’re going to leave the second the rain stops and I’ll be standing here in your sweatshirt feeling like an idiot.
”Something registers across his face. I’m not sure if it’s regret or understanding.
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he says quietly. “Storm’s still going. And even if it wasn’t…” He pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I’m not in the habit of running the second things get real – especially not with you.”
The words settle somewhere deep in my chest. I reach up and touch his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble under my fingers. He leans into the touch, just slightly.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “Not of you. Of how much I want this. Of how fast it’s happening. Of how good it feels to stop thinking for five minutes.”
Hudson’s hand on my thigh squeezes gently
.“Then we slow down,” he says. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now.”
He kisses me again, softer than before. Slower. Like he’s proving he can. His mouth moves over mine with deliberate patience, and I feel some of the frantic urgency ease out of both of us. The kiss turns deeper in a different way -- less desperate, more intentional.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine again.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.
I take a shaky breath. My body is still humming, still pressed tight against him, still very aware of how hard he is between my legs. But the panic has quieted.
“I need…” I swallow. “I need to know this isn’t just the storm. Or the cabin. Or the fact that we’re half-naked and trapped together.”
His eyes hold mine.
“It’s not,” he says. “At least not for me.”
I believe him. That’s what scares me the most. I nod slowly.
“Okay.”
Hudson searches my face for another moment, then carefully shifts his weight. He doesn’t move away completely, but he eases the pressure between us, giving me space. One of his hands comes up to brush damp hair away from my face.
“We can stay like this,” he says. “Or I can sit you down properly and we can just… breathe for a minute. Whatever you want.”
I glance around the small cabin. The bench is narrow. The rain is still loud. The world outside feels very far away. I don’t want him to move away yet.
“Can we just … stay like this for a little longer?” I ask. “Not moving. Just … this.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s softer than I’ve seen on him before.
“Yeah,” he says. “We can do that.”
He leans in and kisses me again -- slow, unhurried, like we have all the time in the world. His arms wrap around me, holding me against his chest. I let myself melt into him, my legs still loosely around his hips, my hands resting on his back.
The urgency hasn’t disappeared. I can still feel it humming between us, low and steady. But the emergency brake is on now. And for the first time since we ran into this cabin, I don’t feel like I’m about to fly off the road.
I rest my cheek against his shoulder and close my eyes.
Outside, the thunder is moving farther away. Inside, Hudson’s heartbeat is steady under my ear. And for right now, that feels like enough.