Page 50 of Tough Love

My face must give away my shock, because he chuckles and lifts me above his head. I settle with my knees on either side of his head. And, as instructed, I hold on to the headboard. His tongue finds my very wet center a second later, and I try not to collapse on his face.

“You are so fucking wet, Addy. You should be on my cock right now.”

I huff a laugh, but he sweeps his tongue through my wet center and I almost crumple. One hand slides up my stomach, finding my hard nipple. He tweaks it while sliding two fingers inside me. He sucks my apex, flicking his tongue over it, all thewhile pumping his hand in and out. Heat builds in my center, and every breath is a soft cry. He works my breasts, pushing and pulling, rolling my nipples through his fingers. When he sucks hard on my apex, I whimper, so close. My grip on the headboard turns white.

“Hu—Oh god!”

His movements intensify, and I explode. I cry out, bucking on my knees. Breathless, I clamp around his fingers, beautiful agony coursing through me.

“Good girl.”

I melt against the headboard.

When both of us are cleaned up and dressed, we sit by the embers and have some breakfast. I stare over the vista at the house that Hudson built. A tiny part of me wants to be the one on that swing with him. I swallow past the rock lodged in my throat. We’re more than friends. But we’re not serious by any means. And I’m leaving before the end of the year.

Suddenly, I’m not that hungry. “We should get going.”

“We can stay a little longer, if you want. Personally, I never want to leave this spot.”

I wish I could stay here. Replay the last twelve hours, actually. When it was only Hudson and me. Suspended in time, wrapped in each other’s arms. No reality needed. No asshat boss. No contract that will come to an end all too soon. No pressure to succeed.

No reason to leave.

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, we could stay here forever.”

Chapter Fifteen

HUDSON

After last night and this morning, I can barely concentrate on anything but the replaying vision of Addy. Her soft little moans, her body against mine. Her lips wrapped around my cock. After a quiet ride home in the truck and a change of clothes, we are up at the house.

Addy is on all fours on the floor, marking out the dimensions for kitchen cabinets and the like. Her ass is the perfect fucking view. And I am hard as a rock. If it wasn’t for her being so quiet all day, I would spin her around and kiss her senseless. But something shifted between us. And I don’t know what it was.

“Do you want a wide refrigerator, Hudson, or single?”

“Wide, Addy.”

She chuckles. “Okey-dokey.” But her smile fades as she turns back to her markings on the floor.

She wiggles backward, marking the floor with a fat piece of chalk. My cock twitches in my jeans. When she said she wanted to help, I didn’t realize that would mean I would be in close proximity, watching her on her hands and knees. And it kind of has me undone. For a quick second I imagine she is here building because this is her house, too.

I shut down that dangerous fucking thought pronto. Measure the timber for the thousandth time, drop it on the saw platform.

At this rate, I’m going to be so distracted I’ll end up losing half my fingers. I shake my head and hone my focus. I line up the timber I am about to use to make the horizontal porch railing and press a finger onto the ignition. The blade roars to life and I lower it. The jagged teeth make a clean cut left of my line. Perfect.

I let the saw back up and tug the timber from the platform. I rub the end and take it outside to screw between the posts. I intend on making a top rail with smaller X-configuration inserts. A design somewhere between farmhouse and the rustic log-cabin rancher homestead look my parents have.

Addy appears at the front door, leaning on one side of the frame. Her hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, her cheeks flushed with a touch of pink. It’s warm today. Fall’s last wave of heat before the cold rolls in. Her shorts are cutoffs, and her toned legs are not helping my constant hard-on.

“You need a hand with that?” she asks, flipping the tape measure over in her hands. The singlet top she is wearing is also not helping my cause.

“Sure,” I grunt.

She frowns but walks over, placing the tape on the porch, and takes one end of the railing.

“That mark on the post, line it up flush with the top of your end of the railing. I’ll fix mine and then yours.”

“Okay.” But her gaze doesn’t leave mine, and when I screw my end secure and move to hers, there is almost sadness in her eyes.

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