Page 86 of Hart Breaker

“Jillian, what the fuck?” he gasps.

“Saw you pull in. You didn’t come up. I figured I’d catch something good, and look?” She turns the screen toward us. “I did.”

“That does not become one of your promo pieces for”—he waves and nods to the counter—“this.”

“You two have the third-floor apartment on the right. The sheets are clean.” She drops her voice to barely a whisper. “Go make ’em messy.”

“Jillian …” Hudson sighs.

“Fresh ones in the closet.” She winks at me. “No one needs to sleep in the wet spot.”

“Go away,” Hudson groans.

“Dinner, five o’clock on the rooftop. Don’t be late, or I’ll be pissed.”

***

Hudson grabs our bags and we head upstairs. The place is awesome. The hallways are all exposed brick, and the wood trim is either original or someone did a hell of a job making it look that way.

“Did you do this?”

“Some of it, yeah. When Dad lost the house, Mom and the three of us moved into a mobile home. Mom was always good making any place at home, so we learned how to do shit ourselves, too. Then, when our grandmother—Dad’s mother—begged us to move in with her because he’d been taking shit and she just couldn’t bring herself to stop him, we moved in and renovated the whole place.” He laughs. “I remember watching YouTube videos with Rome and figuring out how to paint the exterior. We did that.”

“But, do you like it?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I love it. They have a four-year contract, the house is paid for, and I have enough banked to gain interest to pay the taxes for several years. I always wanted to flip houses. Would like to do it for single moms who can’t afford it and go some place after their shitbag exes take off. Mom worked three part-time jobs and made sure she still made it to every one of our games. I know it would have been a little easier on her to have an affordable place.” He laughs. “But she would have still worked all those jobs to give us more.”

“So, you don’t want to continue playing football after this contract?”

“I’ll play as long as it doesn’t interfere with what you and I are gonna have going on by then.” He punches in a code, and I hear the flip of a lock. “I wanna be the dad on the sidelines, coaching his kid, or in the stands, cheering them on.”

I feel my face flush and realize it is highly possible I have a new kink. I think I’m getting hot over Hudson talking about being a dad.

“I played football, baseball, and basketball. I chose football because my old man was a baseball freak, and I wanted nothing to fucking do with it.” He opens the door, and we walk in. “But it won’t be all about the kids. I just realized there’s another perk to coaching.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

He shuts the door behind us, turns, and pins me with those beautiful eyes that are getting darker by the second. “I want to fuck the woman I love in a locker room.”

That feeling that I used to describe as a knot in my throat is now somehow different. I feel a desire that I hope never lessens. It’s not just in my throat; it’s between my legs.

“You do know the Knights have locker rooms, right?”

His lips twitch in amusement. “I’m pretty sure I signed a no-fucking-in-the-locker-room clause.”

We both step to each other at the same time, clearly wanting the same thing, our bodies rubbing against one another’s, his dick hard against my belly. Then his hands are on my ass, lifting me until we’re eye to eye, just like he said he likes it. I arch my back, pressing my boobs against him, and he groans.

His lips are on my neck. “You fucking smell delicious, and you taste,” he growls, and that sound sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, “so good, so fucking good.”

My mouth is watering, and I want to taste him to show him that I feel the same way. But we’re moving, stepping through a doorway, and then he drops me on a mattress.

He leans down and nips my lips as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my leggings. “Fucking love your style, Brooksie. Sexy as hell, and easy access. Don’t you dare change.”

He moves to pull them the rest of the way off, and I try to help as I curl up into seated position, grab the hem of his shirt, pull it up over his head, and toss it to the ground. Then I take off my own shirt and watch as he unbuttons and unzips his pants before pushing them down, and they drop onto the hardwood floor.

As he leans in, I grab his face and pull him into a kiss. When he pulls my sports bra up, we break the kiss. Then, as he tosses it aside, I grip his ass, sink my fingernails into his rock-hard glutes, and pull him toward me.

“I need you inside of me now, right now.”

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