Chapter 5
FIVE
Hazel
It’s not even nine the next morning when I hear knocking on my front door.
“Noooo,” I groan as I sit up and shuffle out of my bedroom to answer it. I rub the sleep from my eyes and stifle a yawn. Who the hell could be bothering me this early?
I peek through the peephole. I’m not sure if I should laugh or scream when I see Hudson standing on the other side.
My body perks up at the sight of him, and I cross one arm over my chest as I unlock the door and pull it open.
“Are you aware of what time it is?” I ask, squinting against the sun as I stare up at him.
“It’s almost nine,” he says, seeming surprised that I’m still asleep.
“On a Saturday,” I stress.
“You said yes to the date yesterday,” he reminds me.
“I thought it would be dinner again!”
“I brought breakfast.” He holds up a bag of food.
I want to argue with him, but truthfully, I’m not mad that he’s here. I love that he can’t seem to wait to see me.
I lay awake for hours last night, replaying yesterday in my head. The way he kissed me. The way he looked at me. I have no idea what brought on the sudden change in my boss or why he started showing an interest in me, but I’m not complaining.
I guess that’s not true, though. Hudson has clearly been paying attention to me for a while. I still can’t believe he knew about my silent game.
I pull the front door open wider and usher him in.
As soon as the door closes behind him, he’s on me. His hands frame my face, then his mouth crashes down on mine like he’s been starving all night.
I gasp, my fingers gripping the front of his shirt as I stumble back into the door. He presses me against it, his body crowding mine, warm and solid and impossible to ignore.
“Good morning,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough, like he hasn’t used it yet today.
“Hi,” I breathe, completely wrecked.
His mouth finds mine again, slower this time, deeper. My brain short-circuits as his hands slide down to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel how much he wants me, and heat floods through my entire body in response.
This is insane.
Yesterday, we were bickering in the office. Today, he’s kissing me like he can’t live without me.
And the craziest part? I don’t want him to stop.
“Breakfast,” I mumble weakly when I finally manage to pull back enough to breathe.
He exhales as if it physically pains him to let me go. He steps back, grasping the now-wrinkled food bag.
“Right,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Food.”
I take the bag and head into my tiny kitchen, aware of his eyes on me the entire time.
“Sit,” I tell him, pointing to one of the stools at the counter.
He doesn’t argue, just watches me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen as I pull out containers and set everything up.
“Pancakes?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“You like them,” he says simply.
“Stalker,” I mumble.
He laughs. “Only for you.”
I bite my lip, trying not to smile.
We eat, but it’s… distracting. Every time I look up, he’s already watching me. Every time our hands brush, we linger a little too long. Every time I take a bite, his gaze follows my mouth as if he’s thinking about something else entirely.
My stomach flips.
“What?” I finally ask, setting my fork down.
“You,” he says immediately.
“That’s not helpful.”
“I know,” he admits, standing slowly.
Uh-oh, I think as he rounds the counter and stops right in front of me. My breath catches as he lifts a hand and brushes his thumb along my bottom lip like he can’t help himself.
“You’ve got syrup on your lip,” he murmurs.
“Oh.” I don’t move. I can’t.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and everything goes quiet. The silence is heavy, charged with an energy that sends a shiver down my spine. My body heats, the muscles between my legs clench, and I swallow a moan.
“Hudson…” I whisper, even though I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admits, his voice low.
“About breakfast?” I tease in a weak attempt to ease the tension.
He doesn’t let me, though.
His intense gaze snaps back to mine. “No, not about breakfast. About you.”
Then he kisses me again. My hands slide up his chest, and I lean into him. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me closer.
Everything inside me melts.
I should stop this. I should ask questions.
What does this mean?What are we doing? What happens at work on Monday?
But every time I try to think, he kisses me again, and all those thoughts scatter. Because right now, I don’t want to think. I just want this. I want him.
I’m not thinking beyond this moment. I’m not worried about what will happen at work or how this will change things between us. I’m just focusing on his lips on mine, his hands squeezing my hips, his hard body pressed against my softness.
Hudson breaks the kiss, and we both suck in a breath. He backs me gently against the counter, his forehead resting against mine as we try to catch our breath.
“This is… probably a bad idea,” I whisper.
“No,” he argues immediately.
I almost smile at us bickering, even about this.
Neither of us moves.
I let out a shaky laugh. “We should talk about it.”
“We should,” he agrees, his eyes roaming over my face.
Still, he doesn’t let me go. I look up at him, really look at him, and my chest tightens. He’s not just intense; he’s nervous, like this matters to him, like I matter to him.
That realization hits me harder than anything else.
“Later,” I say softly.
His eyebrows draw together. “Later?”
“We’ll argue later.” I clarify, reaching up to touch his face. “I don’t want to ruin this.”
His expression softens. “You’re not going to ruin it.”
“I could,” I murmur.
A slow smile tugs at his mouth, the one I’m starting to love. The one I’ve been chasing for months.
One point for me.
I don’t say it out loud because this doesn’t feel like a game anymore. It feels like something much, much bigger.
His hand slides into mine, his grip firm and certain. “Then we’ll talk later.”
“Later,” I agree.
But when he leans in to kiss me again, I know that “later” is going to be very, very hard to get to.
I don’t want to talk. I like having his hands and mouth on me too much. I love how he can’t seem to control himself around me. It’s as if I’m the only one who can get to him, who can break him like this, and for the first time in maybe ever, I feel powerful.
I kiss him back, my tongue tangling with his as he lifts me onto the kitchen counter and settles his hips between my legs.
Hudson kisses me like he’s trying to consume me. Slowly at first, then deep and searching, his mouth moving against mine with an intensity that makes my head spin. My fingers tighten in his shirt as he steps closer between my knees, his hands sliding up my thighs until I shiver beneath his touch.
“Hazel,” he murmurs against my lips, like saying my name is something that hurts him.
I swear I’ve never heard anything so desperate. My heart pounds wildly as his forehead rests against mine for a second. We’re both breathing hard already, and we’ve barely done anything.
This man does something to me.
Something dangerous.
Something addictive.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I whisper shakily, “and I’m never going to think clearly again.”
“Good,” he says immediately.
I laugh softly, but the sound catches when his mouth trails down my jaw to my neck.
Oh.
My eyes flutter shut as his hands tighten on my hips, anchoring me against him while his lips move slowly over my skin.
“You smell good,” he mutters roughly.
“That’s a weird thing to say.”
“I’m having a hard time being normal around you.”
The honesty in his voice sends heat rushing through me.
I tilt my head back slightly, giving him more access, and Hudson groans low in his throat like the movement nearly kills him.
His restraint is hanging by a thread. I can feel it in the way he grips me, the way he breathes, the way every touch feels careful even though I can tell he wants to lose control.
“Tell me to stop,” he says suddenly, pulling back to look at me.
His eyes are dark, focused entirely on me, like nothing else exists.
I shake my head immediately. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Something fierce flashes across his face.
Then he kisses me again, harder this time.
His hand slides into my hair while the other grips my thigh, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter until I’m pressed completely against him. I can feel exactly how much he wants me, and the realization makes my entire body heat.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes against my mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
My cheeks flush, but before I can respond, he kisses me again, swallowing every shaky sound that escapes me. Every nerve ending in my body is alive beneath his hands.
Hudson tugs me off the counter and into his arms. I squeal softly, wrapping my legs around his waist automatically as he carries me toward my bedroom, like letting me go isn’t even an option.
“Hudson,” I moan breathlessly as my pussy drags back and forth over that hard ridge in his pants.
“Fucking hell. You’ll be the death of me,” he groans.
Our lips find each other, and we kiss as we crash onto my mattress. His heavy body crushes mine into the bed, and I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist. I need him closer. I need him… naked.
With that thought, I tear at his clothes. Hudson seems to be on the same page as me because he rolls over, sits up, and rips his shirt off over his head.
His eyes land on me, dark and intense. “Strip.”
I lick my lips and jump to do as I’m told. I crawl off the bed, pushing my pants down and dragging my shirt up and over my head. We’re both naked in record time. Hudson kneels on the bed, and I look over at him, about to join him.
Then my eyes drop to his cock, and I freeze.
“Nope,” I blurt out, backing away from the bed and him.
“What?” he asks, his brow furrowed.