26. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Hudson
I hear the deep thump of bass as I pull into the garage and shut off my truck. The music is loud before I even enter through the kitchen door. As I push it open, I can hear Finn’s voice punctuated with the music as she sings along.
When I left this morning to take Paige to the ranch, Finn was still asleep. So, Paige and I quickly scarfed down a bowl of cereal, before heading out.
Hank and I spent the morning checking fence lines, while Paige hung with Mom, Pop, and Wren. The six of us and my sister Norah had lunch on the back deck, and then I ran a few trails around the ranch before meeting Hutch at the park for some batting practice. The local softball team I started back in high school, Timber Titans, has a game tomorrow night, and I haven’t played since I was here last summer.
When I peek around the wall into the living area, my heart trips in my chest and my cock jumps to attention.
She’s got her back to me, dressed in a white, oversized T-shirt. It hangs off one shoulder, and it’s knotted in the back, right over the round peach of her ass. Her tight, lavender shorts—if you can call them that, they’re more like underwear—leave very little to the imagination. She’s either going commando or got on a pair of those itty-bitty scraps of fabric she calls panties, because there isn’t a line in sight. And after the show I unknowingly gave her in the shower, I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that I will be looking.
Sue me.
I’d been pretty bold that day in the kitchen. I’m not sure if it was her seeing me naked and me being pretty sure she liked it, or if I was just feeling confident after spending the afternoon with Trevor. But when she brought it up, I couldn’t stop myself from pushing her just to see how she’d react. I don’t know who I think I’m kidding trying to stay away from her, and judging by the shallow, little pants that escaped her lips upon learning that I can hear her masturbating across the hall, she’s quickly losing the death grip she has on holding out, too.
I feel fucking high, like I’ve taken something new and exciting, but it’s her. She’s been here all along, but knowing what I know now—that she looks at me, thinks about me in a sexual way—she’s not just the best friend I’ve had for years anymore. I’ve waited so long for this, and fuck if I can stop now.
Watching her now, she’s hitting every word, her hips swaying and grinding in time to the music, while she raps along to “No Diggity” by Blackstreet and Dr. Dre. She’s got a rag in one hand, and a can of dusting spray in the other that she’s using as a microphone.
I love her like this. Not nervous or shy about her love of belting out her favorite songs or worrying about how she looks. She can’t sing for shit, but she has rhythm, and even though she’s just messing around, she does it with her whole chest. Just like everything else in her life.
She swivels her hips and drops into a squat, shaking her ass, and I break out in a cold sweat. I wrap a death grip around the handle of my gym bag and clear my throat, but the music is so loud, she doesn’t hear it. When she stands back up and spins around, she startles slightly when she sees me watching her, her hand going up to her heart.
She blushes the prettiest shade of pink, but she doesn’t miss a beat in the lyrics. A grin spreads across her beautiful face as she moves toward me, all the while running her hands down her body, trailing down her rib cage to her hips and back up, and singing the ‘hey-o’s. She finishes by lifting her hair with both hands and letting it drop. So unbelievably sexy, this woman.
She tosses the can of spray and her rag onto the coffee table, and then flips her hair with one hand, while grabbing my bag with the other, dropping it on the couch. I can just make out the faint outline of her nipples under her shirt, and I am not being even a little subtle about taking in every inch of her.
I’m currently suffocating; I can’t draw a full breath. So, I do the only thing I can—the only thing I want to —when she grabs both of my hands. I move with her. It’s what I would do under normal circumstances, back before all thoughts of her turned dirty.
Turning the song into a sexy two-step—complete with bumps and grinds—she smiles up at me through her lashes as she sings, and we move together. The hair is damp at the nape of her neck and she smells amazing. I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me, but I feel like I’m slowly losing it, while images of bending my best friend—my wife —over the arm of the couch and having my way with her fill my mind.
She spins under my arm and turns, then drops my hands and bumps her perfect ass against me. Her arms are in the air, hair swinging over her bare shoulder where the shirt has fallen to expose it. Her eyes lock on mine and it’s a look I’ve seen before. It’s the same look she had in her eyes the night I kissed her. So, when she grabs my hands and wraps them around her so that her back is flat against my chest, I lean in and brush my lips against the column of her throat, testing the waters just a bit .
I feel, rather than hear, her sharp intake of breath, where my hands rest low on her stomach. When she tilts her head further to the side, I do it again. This time, flicking my tongue lightly over her skin.
Making my way up her neck to her ear, I murmur, “Is this ok?”
Her head drops back on my shoulder, and she lets out a breathless, “Yes.”
I kiss her neck again, just over her pulse point, then nip at her earlobe. Her hands tighten on mine, and when I press two more light kisses to her neck, the whimper she lets out when I suck lightly goes straight to my cock. It’s all I can do not to rub it against her like a horny teenager.
If she gets much closer, she will definitely feel how hard I am against her lower back, if she can’t already. But until I know how she’s feeling about this, I’ve got to put some space between us.
I take her hand and spin her around, as the song ends. Bending slightly, she clicks the volume down, just loud enough for us to hear “Stand Up” by Ludacris shuffle on. But she doesn’t drop my hand.
“We haven’t danced together in forever,” she says, her eyes finding mine.
I nod. It’s been almost a year since we danced at Roxy’s. Of course, there had been ample space between her ass and my crotch then.
She clears her throat. “How was your workout?”
It takes me a minute to figure out how to use my tongue, since all the blood in my body has pooled in my junk. But I manage to stutter out, “Good.” It comes out sort of squeaky and high-pitched. So, I clear my throat and force out, “It was good.”
Her gaze flits to mine, and I love how shy she is. It’s a look I’ve never seen on her before—she’s usually all fire and sass—and it has my heart beating so damn hard.
She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, a tiny dimple popping in her cheek. When she raises her eyes to mine, she says quietly, “What’s going on between us? ”
Not expecting her to be so direct, the question catches me off guard. I blow out a breath and scratch my eyebrow with my thumb. “Honestly? I’m not sure.”
She nods, her lips twisting to the side. “Can it be— Is it like…with you and Brittany?”
“Like friends with benefits?”
“Yeah,” she says, fidgeting with the hem on her shorts. “Like that.”
My pulse skyrockets at her admission. I thought I knew what she wanted, but hearing her admit she wants me is like nothing I’ve ever felt. Still, I have to be sure I’m understanding her correctly. “Is that what you want?”
She searches my face, hesitation in her eyes. Then, they drop to my mouth, lingering for a couple of seconds, before she meets my gaze again. “Yes.”
My sharp inhale isn’t voluntary. I’m caught between carelessly taking what I’ve wanted for so long and my feelings for her. I’m not sure of anything, except that I don’t want this door to close before we’ve even explored what’s on the other side of it.
“It could change everything.”
She nods. “If we let it.”
I stare down into her eyes. Is she honestly asking me to do this? Can I really agree to it? Can I have sex with her without getting my feelings involved? When it ends, will I be able to go back to being friends after having the most important woman in my world in my bed? Is that even fucking possible?
“Unless you don’t want to.”
The look of rejection on her face is slight, but it’s enough to have me pulling her by the hand, so we’re chest to chest. I reach for her other hand and drape both over my shoulders. Then, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against me, I push my hips lightly into her, just to make sure she feels how badly I want to. She lets out a breathy chuckle .
“Does that answer your question?”
Finn peers up at me, lips parted, her chest rising and falling a little faster now. Her mouth covers mine before I can register that it will. No hesitation, taking what she wants. I moan against her mouth when she opens for me, my tongue sliding along hers slow and deep. Her hips rock against mine, making my fingers involuntarily dig into the skin just above her waistband. Her tongue dances over my lips, and mine devours hers. This kiss is nothing like our first one.
It was impulsive, tentative, mixed-up with a million emotions—the most prevalent being fear. Fear of failure, fear of the unknown. It wasn’t thought-out. It was strictly taking something to make myself feel better in the moment. Turns out, that comfort only lasted the couple of seconds it took to happen and was over as quickly as it began.
But not this kiss. This one is different. This kiss is straight-up desire. Desire so bright and so hot, it makes my ears ring, and I can’t catch my breath. This is months long of thinking about that first kiss and wishing it’d gone very differently. In this kiss, there is everything I’ve always wanted to tell her with words but can’t.
I’m panting like a motherfucker when we finally pull apart. Our mouths hover, breaths mingling, before I’m diving back in like an addict needing his next fix. Kissing Finnley Jameson is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and I’ve kissed my fair share of women, working in a bar. But this? This is next level.
I run a palm over her ass and her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling just the slightest bit. I pull at her bottom lip with my teeth and give it a little nip before soothing the spot with my tongue. She tastes sweet, like coconut lip balm, and fucking hell; she tastes like mine.
Mine.
That one word echoing through my skull has me breaking the kiss, and I drop my forehead to hers. Our heavy breathing almost drowns out the music that has now switched over to something I’ve never heard before. It’s slow and sultry, and if we don’t put a stop to this now, we’ll end up in bed before we have a chance to figure out what it all means.
“We should talk.”
“This is more fun,” she says, lightly brushing her lips against mine.
My answering chuckle is a low rumble in my chest, and I nod, pressing a couple of quick kisses to her parted lips. It’s amazing how easy this feels.
“It is,” I say. “But we should really set some ground rules. You know, so shit doesn’t get messy.”
“I fucking love messy,” she says, before licking my top lip and kissing me again.
I reach up and unwind her arms from my neck, pinning both of her hands in mine between us. I love messy, too, and God, would I love to see this woman messy. But I care about her too much to go balls out and fuck up our friendship. Not to mention that one taste of her won’t be enough for me. I can try to keep this thing casual if that’s what she wants, but it won’t be easy. There’s also the small detail of my feelings for her, and I don’t know how I feel about doing this if she doesn’t feel the same.
Sure, we’re both clearly into each other physically, but I’m not sure what that looks like long-term. She means too much to me to jump in full tilt without thinking it through, and I’m sure she would say the same if she could keep her tongue out of my mouth for five seconds.
I lean in and press a kiss to her lips once more. “As much as I want this—and I hope you can feel how much I do—we need to be smart about it.”
The lust haze she’s been drowning in clears from her eyes and she pulls her lip between her teeth with a nod.
“And I’m gonna need you to stop doing that,” I say with a nod to her mouth. I don’t know what it is about this woman’s mouth that turns me on so much, but fuck, I can’t think straight when she bites that damn lip .
“Why?”
I press my erection into her again. “That’s why.”
She giggles and then bites her lip again, before sobering when I cock a brow at her.
“Right,” she says. “No lip biting, because it makes the best friend feral. Got it.” She mimes a little salute. God, she’s perfect. “Can we talk about it soon?”
I nod. She’s right, I don’t know how much more I can take. But we really need to get on the road if we’re going to make the concert. “This weekend?”
“Ok,” she agrees, her smile bashful.
I watch her as she gathers her hair and twists it into a bun, looking around for a hair tie. I fish out the one on my wrist for her and hand it over, internally rolling my eyes when I realize Hutch was right about everything.
“Always coming in clutch for me, Huddy,” she says with a smile and wraps up her bun with the thick hair tie.
And just like that, I’m best friend Huddy again, and the intensely hot moment we just shared is over.
“You bet,” I say, grabbing my bag off the couch and hiking the strap up my shoulder.
“I’m excited for tonight,” she says, cutting the music. Then, she laughs and clarifies, “For the show. I didn’t mean we’re going to—” She waves between us, and it makes me laugh.
We’re heading to Bozeman to see a local cover band, The Barnyard Ballers. They sing mostly nineties country and rap mashups, but they do some newer stuff, too. We’ve been fans for years, and it's been at least five years since they’ve been back to Bozeman.
“I knew what you meant. And me, too,” I say and turn to head upstairs. “I’m gonna hit the shower. ”
“When should I be ready?” she says, absently checking her phone, and I take a minute to appreciate all that exposed skin. My dick is still painfully hard.
“An hour?” I pose it like a question, because she’s the world’s biggest procrastinator and I doubt she’s even packed for our overnight trip.
“I’ll shower when you’re finished. Let me know when you’re out.” She glances up at me.
I nod and head upstairs, where I definitely do not jerk off in the shower.