He let out a low, very male sound of approval at the sight of her thin, washed-a-million-times cami, apparently liking the way her nipples were trying to poke their way free to get to him. Then he encouraged the straps of the cami to slip, allowing his big hands to dip into the gaping front and cup her breasts.
“Oh,” she breathed on a shuddering exhale, her head falling back. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have hands on her for reasons that had nothing to do with saving her life and everything to do with sheer pleasure.
“Okay?” he murmured.
“Very,” she whispered, eyes closed. “More please.”
He laughed softly, his warm breath caressing her throat as he did. “So polite.”
“I t-t-try,” she managed, stuttering as he lifted the cami up and over her head.
When he didn’t make a sound or move, she covered her scar and sighed. “I told you,” she said, and opened her eyes.
He bent and kissed her fingers. Then he pried them away from her body and kissed the scar itself. “You’re beautiful,” he said against her skin. “Every inch of you, in and out. Don’t apologize for the scar. It’s a part of you, a really important part.”
She smiled, the words warming her. “I wasn’t worried for me,” she said softly. “I just didn’t want to wreck your mood with it.”
He let out a low laugh, shook his head, and leaned in. “You’re amazing,” he said, and brushed his mouth over hers. “Don’t ever worry about my mood. My mood is not your problem or your responsibility. Ever. And in any case, you elevate my mood.” He stroked his hands down her torso and went straight for the button on her jeans.
“Hudson?”
He lifted his head from his task and looked at her, his eyes so dark they appeared nearly black, heavy lidded with all sorts of thoughts that seemed entirely about her and entirely erotic.
And she promptly forgot what she wanted to say.
Leaning up, he cupped her face and kissed her, soft, sweet. “Bailey, if you’re not ready—”
“No.” She put her fingers over his mouth and shook her head. “I’m ready,” she promised. She kissed his jaw and then rubbed her cheek against it, letting out a low hum of arousal at the feel of his stubble on her skin. He had a scent that every single one of her senses responded to. The texture of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the latent strength in his hands—everything about him did it for her. “I want this,” she said. “I want you.” She moved her hands down his sides, trying to absorb the feel of him. Her fingers found the edge of his towel and she reached to unknot it.
Catching her hands in his, he slowly slid them up to either side of her head. He looked at her for a long moment, and the intensity with which she wanted him actually hurt. “I was thinking now,” she murmured.
He laughed low and sexy in his throat and kissed her then—long, languid kisses that brought a slow build. Rocking up into him, she tugged her hands free, gliding them over his silky smooth shoulders and back, then lower to explore over his towel.
And then beneath.
With a growl, he sucked on her lower lip, then slid away from her mouth to kiss and nip along her jaw and down her throat. When he found the sweet spot at the curve of her shoulder she involuntarily squeezed her thighs against his sides, trying to arch up into him and ease the pressure building inside her.
He rewarded her desperation by rocking that amazing body against hers. She’d been this far before with a man she knew far better and for much longer. She’d been further before.
But this time, with Hudson, felt different. Aaron had always been in careful control and very, very gentle, as if she’d been a fragile flower. So gentle it’d kept her from letting go.
Here, with Hud, there was nothing holding her back. “Hudson,” she whispered, moaning when he bent his head to her bared breasts, using his warm hands and then his even warmer mouth.
Need rolled over her in waves. Desperate, clawing need, and his name tumbled from her lips again, a cry this time. She could feel herself oscillating her hips to his, rubbing his erection against her center. Mindless, she’d twined herself around him, gasping when he slid his hands to her ass.
Her bare ass.
He’d slid off her jeans without her even knowing. The little bikini panties she wore matched her cami, the one now on the floor somewhere. “Pretty,” he said. And then he dragged them slowly down her legs, sending them flying to land near the cami.
His towel followed.
And then he was back, continuing on with his teasing as her body temperature rose alarmingly. He stretched out beside her, stroking her with his big, warm hands, his fingers dancing over her entire body. When he finally nudged open her thighs, he growled in pleasure as he found a few more places to tease.
But one knowing stroke with those callused fingers and she lost her mind.
Completely. Lost. Her. Mind.
He held her through the shattering orgasm and when she could breathe again, she let out a breathless laugh and stared up at the ceiling.
“Bay? You still with me?”
She blinked. This had already been the best sex she’d ever had and all he’d done was touch her.