Page 52 of Roughing It

When his hands once again follow the path up my back, his hips buck forward, and on instinct, I press back, grinding against him.

“Fucking hell, Blakely.” The axe falls to the ground, and Hudson’s lips are on mine. My kiss is desperate, full of longing and need. I beg for entrance to his mouth, and when he grants it, I run my tongue along his teeth and shiver at the slight prick of his canines.

Hudson lifts me so I can anchor my legs around his waist. His calloused palms slide along the bare skin of my back, and I can’t help but rock against him. The kissing. The touching. Theglorious grinding lasts another handful of minutes. If I could just get a little more pressure…

A pained groan leads to my feet landing back on the ground. Hudson’s chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, the black of his blown pupils eating up the green of his eyes. I want him.

Resting his chin on my head, he hugs me before giving me a small nip to my lower lip. “Leave it to me. Cold front’s coming in tonight. Need to make sure we have enough wood.” Then he’s right back to it, the now familiarthwacksound filling the air.

Dazed from his touch, I stumble to the cabin. When the door snicks shut behind me, I lean against the wood to cool off my overheated body. I’m all worked up. The hot and heavy make-out session, combined with the forty-eight hours of teasing kisses and nothing more, has me needing relief.

Now.

My eyes land on the clawfoot tub. In the eleven days I’ve been here, I’ve taken way too many rushed showers. A nice long soak is exactly what I need. Decision made, I turn on the water and set the temperature to my liking. I leave a trail of clothes strewn in my path while I go to grab bath oil from my belongings. Cursing when I trip over my freaking hiking boots, I briefly consider picking up the mess on my side of the cabin, but veto that idea. I do kick my boot for good measure, though.

I add several drops of the fragrant oil into the warm water, inhaling the soft floral scent before stepping into the deep tub.

It’s so quiet, with only the unwavering crack of splintering wood breaking the silence. Grabbing my phone from where it rests on a bundle of towels, I pick mySpicy Nightplaylist and set it to random. Hozier’s seductive lyrics and voice draw me in, and I let my mind go where it wants—and it wants Hudson.

Hudson chopping wood, shirtless, sweat running down his body. Hudson naked in the shower, his thick cock strainingwith need. Hudson tasting me, his surprisingly soft lips parting mine. Hudson on top of me, spreading my legs, pushing into me, filling me. Hudson whispering filthy things in my ear while I come on his… axe.

My hands roam my slick body, skimming the valley between my breasts. I toy with my nipples until they bead, then give them a teasing twist before moving lower. Raising one leg, I rest it over the lip of the tub and circle my clit, my hips twitching with each pass. Slipping a single finger in my warmth, I slowly work it in… then out. In. Out. In. Swirl. Out.

Then, I add another.

I continue my daydream, my sexy Bear pinning me to the wall, his rough hands charting the curves of my body, claiming my pussy in his name. The thrilling visual of Hudson’s broad shoulders splitting my thighs, my heels digging into the powerful muscles of his back, has me bucking against my hand, trying to go deeper. My fingers aren’t thick enough, not long enough to give me what I’m searching for. I’m so close, but I can’t quite get there. Frustration threatens to pull me away from the edge. I need more.

Spying the faucet from my half-shut eyes, I wriggle and turn the water back on. I position myself under the steady stream with both legs splayed wide over the sides. Then, I use one hand to spread myself open. The continuous cascade of warm liquid falls onto my clit and couples with my fingers inside me. All it takes is the addition of the images of a certain sweaty, bronzed god’s face buried in my pussy to push me over the edge. I call out Hudson’s name far louder than I intend, but I’m basking in my boneless afterglow, so I can’t be concerned.

“Blakely, are you okay? I heard you scream my name.”

Hudson peers down at me, my hair floating around me in wild tendrils, legs spread eagle. With a yelp, I sit up, splashing water over the edge of the tub and onto his feet.

Frozen in a silent stand-off, we inspect each other—me sitting in lukewarm water looking at him. Him staring at me like he’s seen me naked, which now he has. I lick my lips. Will this be the tipping point for him? Are my wet body, my hardened nipples, the spread of my thighs just hidden from his view enough to make him snap and give me what I want?

Despite his pink-tinged cheeks, he doesn’t hesitate to drink me in, staring at my face and moving lower to what’s hidden beneath the water. I enjoy the heat of his gaze on me until he grabs a towel and wraps it around my shoulders, effectively shielding me from view.

The flimsy weight of the towel feels like a piano settling on my chest. With a nervous laugh, I wave a hand. “Sorry, um, I thought I saw a mouse.”

“Yeah.” Hudson blushes and looks away from me. “A mouse. Sure.” Without another word, he strides out the door. Then I hear the familiar sound of wood being demolished in a single swing.

As Hudson predicted, a cold front comes through—and not just outside. With each passing hour, the temps drop, and by the time the sun sets, it’s in the low teens. Meanwhile, in the cabin we’re sitting at a frosty negative ten, best I can tell. Whether this is because Hudson’s upset about the live spot or embarrassed about my afternoon self-delight, I can’t say.

“Gonna shower.”

“Okay, enjoy.” I smile at him from where I’m curled up on the couch. An unintelligible grunt is his reply. Remind me whatI see in him again? Then he pads through the cabin in his boxers, restoring my memory.

While Hudson showers, I take the initiative to make dinner. Growing up the way I did, I counted on free breakfast and lunch at school. Weekends and long breaks I existed on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or dry cereal. Things that were easy to get from the local food bank and didn’t require me to cook. Half the time, the stove and oven didn’t work. So making dinner is way outside my comfort zone, but a peace offering can’t hurt, and it’s too late in the day for apology coffee. I’m hoping we can talk about things—all the things—and maybe move on from kissing to something more.

Or at least get back to kissing.

I stir the lumpy sauce. Some of it’s bubbling, and some isn’t. The noodles aren’t boiling, but they’ve been in the water for ages, so I figure they’re fine.

The shower turning off acts as my timer, and I plate the food. Hudson joins me in the kitchen in a considerably better mood. How can I tell? Well, he says three words to me rather than just grunting.

“Want a drink?”

I nod and take the offered water before sitting. With a deep breath, I say, “So, this afternoon?—”

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