Page 70 of Game On
I follow Hudson inside the dark house, his hand resting comfortably on the small of my back. His thumb makes absentminded circles on my bare skin as we head up the stairs together. It heats me up, thrills me from the outside in.
When we reach his room, he opens the door and flicks on the switch, stepping aside to let me enter first.
It’s neat, tidier in here than it has been the last few times I came over. It’s like he purposefully cleaned up for the party, though he’d probably deny it if I ever mentioned it. His bed is made, his clothes stowed in the wardrobe. A couple of textbooks lay on the desk, their bookmarks sticking out from various chapters.
It’s all very Hudson.
And then, there’s Sourdough—perched on the windowsill and sporting a tiny green alien hat. I giggle and move closer, extending a tentative hand toward him. He half-opens a sleepy eye and meows, stretching lazily before padding up to us. I carefully pick him up, my eyes meeting Hudson’s as he watches us with a soft, bemused expression.
“Look at you in your little hat,” I coo, scratching the cat under his chin. “This is easily the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
A slow smirk lights up Hudson’s face. “What do I have to do to get you to say that about me?”
“I just gave you a compliment earlier,” I say. “Don’t be greedy.”
Sourdough jumps from my hands, slinking away. “Greedy,” he echoes. “When it comes to you, I’m downright selfish.”
I blink at him, but before I can question his words, he’s already moving closer. His hands find my waist, pulling me flush to him. My heart stutters, my breath hitching in my throat.
He’s so very close, and it’s making the rational part of my brain short-circuit. All I can do is stare at him, lost in those gray eyes of his—darker and more intense than I’ve ever seen them.
“I was thinking we might try something,” he says, low and slow. His fingers trace the brim of my hat, and then he tosses it onto his dresser behind me.
“We only have a few minutes before everyone arrives.”
He licks his lips. “They won’t miss me too much.”
“And what if they miss me?”
“How many people do you know that are coming?”
I scoff. “All the cheerleaders, for one.”
“So, about a dozen people who were invited, give or take. People that you already see on a near-daily basis.”
I try and fail to muster a pointed glare. “Who would miss me very much if I were to spontaneously disappear.”
He laughs. “Second time you’ve accused me of a crime tonight. Is that what you think my idea entails? Holding you hostage up in my room?”
“Wouldn’t be too far-fetched.”
He encircles a hand around my forearm. “And you wouldn’t like that?”
“Depends on what I get out of it.”
“I could make you come a few times,” he says. “Beat our record.”
A flush of heat creeps up my neck, but I want to make his eyes go wide tonight, turn the tables so that he’s the one blushing this time. I want my power back.
“I’ll raise you one better,” I say, shaking his hand loose and pressing my palms flat against his chest. “I bet I can make you come before the first guests arrive.”
There’s a stunned silence as the words hang between us, but I refuse to look away from his shocked expression. And then, slowly, he smiles. “You’re on,” he murmurs.
As I push him back towards the bed, a shaky breath staggers out of him. His eyes are filled with heat. It’s clear he wants me just as much as I want him.
“Just sit back and enjoy,” I tell him. My hands roam over his chest, tracing each muscle through the thin fabric of his shirt. He gulps, eyes flicking down to watch my hands as they move lower.
“I’ve never been very good at sitting back and taking it easy,” he says roughly.
