Page 81 of What About Us
Thinking about it now, that familiar ache is already building again in my core. My hands find my breasts, the water adding another erotic element to my thoughts. I picture him now, downstairs in the hotel gym, probably running. The muscles in his thighs working to push himself. His perfect, round ass…
God. I’m obsessed with my best friend.
I let my head hang back as my hand drifts lower, and soon, I’m right back to last night, listening to his labored breathing, while his fingers dig into my hip, urging me to move against him. I imagine the length of his cock, the thickness of it stretching me. His hips pounding hard against my ass from behind until I can’t take it anymore. How he’d sound if he didn’t hold back his groans of pleasure. And it’s all I need.
My lower belly gives a tug, and my spine tingles as my orgasm hits me so hard and so fast, I have to steady myself with my hand on the shower wall.
Maybe I should be embarrassed about fantasizing about my best friend, but I’m not. I wanted him last night, and even though it wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, I’m grateful he had the mental fortitude to keep me from doing something I may not remember. Because the one thing I do know is this: the first time I am with him, experiencing everything that he is and all that he’ll make me feel, I want to remember that shit.
Shutting off the water, I dry off, then quickly brush and French braid my hair, so it hangs in a thick rope down my back. When I finish dressing and step out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Hudson’s gaze lands on me from across the room. He’s near the window, in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts, his hair damp from his run. How this man has the discipline to run every day is beyond me, but I’m so glad he does because, damn. He’s fucking gorgeous.
He’s got the phone pressed to his ear and he smiles at me. His eyes blaze a hot trail up my body, making me feel naked.
“Ok, Pip. We’ll be heading home shortly, ok? Have fun with Pop-Pop,” he says before disconnecting the call.
“Morning,” I say, turning my back to hide the blush that seems to be permanently taking up residence on my face whenever he’s around. I stuff my clothes from last night into my bag.
“Morning,” he says, and then I feel him at my back.
The brush of his chest against my back has goosebumps erupting all over my body. He lifts my braid, and when I turn to look over my shoulder at him, he runs a hand down my arm.
“You hungry?” I don’t miss the double entendre and sexy smirk on his face.
It’s almost impossible to find my voice. He’s so close. “Starving,” I finally manage to say.
He drops a soft kiss to my bare shoulder. “I’ll shower and we’ll get something before we take off.”
I watch the movement, never taking my eyes off his face. “Ok.”
He steps away from me and continues to the bathroom. I turn back to my bag and cram things inside, trying to ignore the pounding of my pulse between my legs. Holy shit… The things this man does to my body is insane.
“Hey, Jameson?”
“Yeah?” I ask, expecting him to ask to use my shampoo or say something about the drive home.
“I love the way you sound when you come, too.”
And he leaves me standing there, stunned into silence, with only my wet panties for company.
After sharing a stack of pancakes, two sides of bacon, and a giant plate of eggs at the diner down the road from the hotel, we get back on the road. The first half of the drive is quiet. It’s not strained by any means, but Hudson and I have never felt the need to fill the silence. We’ve always sort of been able to just exist with one another without much effort. It’s probably one of my favorite things about our friendship. Don’t get me wrong, we love to talk, too, but we are absolutely those friends that don’t need entertainment when we’re together. We can have a conversation just as easily as we can sit in silence.
About halfway through the drive, “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” shuffles on and a grin spreads across my face.
“Do you remember that night we snuck out and you forced Hank to take me and you with him and Wren to that barn dance in Livingston?”
He glances from the road, wearing a matching grin. “God, he was so pissed.”
I laugh. “He was. I think he was hoping to get lucky, and then here came along two giant cockblocks, screwing things up for him.”
Actually, now that I think about it, we did that a lot. Wren is a handful of months older than Hudson and me, so she was already eighteen and didn’t have a curfew. Hudson and I did. So, while Wren and Hank—who was two years older—could stay out late and cross county lines without much issue from his parents or her grandparents, we had to be sneaky about it.Of course, it was always easier for me to sneak out because Mama worked a lot.
“That was such a great night.” I sigh. “We were wild, weren’t we?”
“We were,” he says. “I remember you and Wren trying to tip that cow.” His shoulders bounce with laughter. “Hank and I knew you couldn’t do it. Hell, we’d been trying to tip cows since we were five years old. There you two were, a buck-twenty each soaking wet, trying to tip a 1200 lb. heifer.”
“We weren’t the brightest in the bunch.” I giggle. “Especially with half a bottle of Boones between us.”
“We gave you guys an ‘A’ for effort, though.” He shoots me a smile that melts my insides.
