Page 75 of What About Us
Chapter 25
Hudson
I hear the deepthump 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 likeunderwear—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. Whenshe 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 Iwant 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—mywife—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?”
