Chapter 18-Daniela
The things he’s saying to me right now?
They’re everything.
Every damn thing I never let myself hope for.
Things I thought I didn’t deserve.
Things I used to believe only happened to other people.
In books. In movies. In lies.
And that’s the problem.
Because how do I know if this is real or just a really convincing snow-globe fantasy?
I mean, look at us—we’re snowed-in.
There’s a literal fire crackling behind us.
We’ve been naked more than clothed for two days.
Of course, feelings are going to swirl.
But here’s the truth I keep trying to shove down.
I’m already in deep.
This man—this impossible, growly, gorgeous, genius rugby god—he’s ruined me for anyone else.
With his hands, his words, his stupid pillow-tearing tenderness. I know this is dangerous territory.
But I’m not strong enough to pretend anymore.
So when his eyes smolder, and I feel the press of him against my belly—thick and warm and very, very hard—I stop overthinking.
I lean in.
And I kiss him.
Slowly, like the promise I can’t make out loud.
Softly, like I don’t want to scare it away.
And then I kiss him again, because there’s no coming back from this. I’m already his in all the ways that matter.
Might as well let my body admit it.
He groans into my mouth, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me closer, and I feel his whole body tense as I press against him.
“Are you kissing me because you’re cold,” he murmurs against my lips, “or because you’re ready to give us a chance?”
I pull back just far enough to look into his face.
And God, he’s beautiful in this soft firelight.
His dark eyes are searching, hopeful and aching, and I feel something inside me snap.
I’m done pretending.
I tilt my head, letting my fingers trace the edge of his jaw.
And then I nod.
Just once. But it’s enough.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think I am.”
I kiss him again.
Deeper. Longer. Until I feel his growl vibrate through my chest.
He moves like he’s been waiting his whole life for this. One strong arm around me, the other tugging my hoodie over my head.
My sweats slide down next, pooling at my ankles, and the heat of the fire hits my bare skin all at once.
His boxers are next, and then he’s lying back—gloriously naked.
A living, breathing symphony of bronzed skin, black ink swirling over his chest and arms, muscles shifting like poetry as he moves.
“Hudson,” I whimper, my hands splayed across his chest, feeling his heart hammer under my palms.
“So perfect, Sweetheart,” he growls, voice low and rough. “Feel so good. Wanna see you ride me.”
His huge hands clamp around my waist, lifting me just enough to position me.
The fire pops in the hearth, snow hisses softly against the windowpanes, and it feels like the whole world has narrowed to this moment.
His breathing is rough. Like his hands as he guides himself to my entrance.
He’s so hot. So unbelievably sexy. I almost can’t believe he wants me so badly, but he does. I can see it. Feel it.
I tremble, thighs quivering as the blunt tip of him brushes against my soaked slit.
“I wanna hear you, Dani. There’s no one but us. I wanna hear you scream for me,” he growls.
His gaze locks on mine—dark, intent, and almost reverent.
I take a breath, and I slam myself down. Not slow, but deliberate, swallowing up all his inches in that one hard, claiming thrust.
“OH YES!” I groan out loud because he’s right.
We’re all alone here.
And the stretch of him inside me makes me moan.
A gasp of pleasure and disbelief slips past my lips, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hands travel up my body, tugging on my nipples before dropping them down to my ass.
“Look at me, Dani,” he murmurs, thumbs stroking circles onto my flesh. “Just like that let me see you.”
I do.
I look down at him, at the way his jaw clenches, at the way his eyes go molten as I settle onto him completely.
He fills me, grounds me, burns me up from the inside out all at once.
And for a heartbeat, everything else—the storm, the cabin, the pillow wall, the rules—falls away.
It’s just us.
“Ride me, Sweetheart. That’s it,” he instructs, guiding my movements.
It’s like my brain isn’t working because I feel so—so full. So tight. So hot and needy.
Being with Hudson is like being with no one else—I mean, I’ve had sex, but not like this. Never like this.
He just takes up all the available space inside of me.
I wonder if he got his nickname because of all this—his size, the relentless way he fucks me, rolling over me.
Just like a tank.
He sits up with a low, guttural groan.
The sound—deep and raw—vibrates through my chest like a thunderclap, echoing inside me until I’m trembling with anticipation.
His arms wrap around me, strong and sure, and then he’s moving—thrusting up into me from below—and oh my God.
It’s like he’s touching me everywhere.
My head tips back, a helpless cry escaping my throat as his thick length fills me completely.
“That’s right, Sweetheart,” he rasps, voice hoarse with need. “It’s me. Only me, filling you up.”
Before I can catch my breath, he flips us over in one fluid motion, taking control, taking me.
He grabs my legs, draping them over his broad shoulders, and slides even deeper inside me.
At this angle—God help me—he hits something devastating.
That rough, needy little patch inside me that sends lightning bolts dancing down my spine.
“Hudson!” I cry out, writhing beneath him.
“Yeah, Love. Say it. Scream it. Let this whole mountain hear you. Let them know it’s me making you feel this good.”
His voice darkens then, getting all growly and deep.
“Because I’m the only man who ever will. The only man who can.”
His words?
They’re dirty.
They’re possessive.
They’re completely unhinged.
And I am so here for it.
He shifts again, cock jerking inside me with a maddening drag that makes my toes curl.
“Feel that?”
I nod, my body already bowing off the mattress in answer.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Feels perfect because it is. Because you were made for me, Dani. And I’m keeping you.”
Then he thrusts again—deep and hard and utterly consuming—and something inside me snaps.
I shatter.
The climax drags me under like a wave, sweeping through every nerve ending in my body.
My back arches, fingers clutching his hips, and I do exactly what he begged me to—I scream his name.
And I’m not quiet about it.
I think I hear mine on his lips too—low, reverent, desperate—as his rhythm falters. He pulls out at the last second, and I open my eyes just in time to see it.
One long, thick jerk of his hand—and heat paints my skin.
A splash of his warm, wet, wicked release hits my belly, my thighs, my still-quivering sex, and for some reason—it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen or done.
But even that isn’t as powerful as the look on his face.
His jaw clenched.
His eyes blown wide with hunger.
Watching me like I’m art.
Like I’m his.
Then—with a possessive growl—he reaches down and spreads it all around.
His big hand smears his release across my sensitive skin—then over my clit.
And he doesn’t stop there.
He starts rubbing.
Slow, firm circles.
Merciless, relentless, perfect.
I gasp.
My pussy twitches.
I arch again.
“Oh my God—Hudson!”
I come again, harder than before, my whole body locking up, fire pouring through my veins as I cry out for him once more.