Page 8 of Game On
“The one and only.”
“Ella Davies.”
“So, you’ve decided to share your name with me after all?”
“Well, it might come in handy later. To be honest, I think I’d quite like to hear you say it.”
“Fuck.” He puffs out a heated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You aren’t tipsier than you let on, are you?”
“If I were, I would’ve joked about you inviting me back to your hole.”
He stands there for a moment, puzzled. Then, pinching the bridge of his nose, he stifles a chuckle. “My … my fox hole, right? Very clever.”
“That’s what they call me.”
“Alright then, clever girl. Let’s go.”
He holds open the passenger door, and I slide in, settling comfortably into the warm leather seats. The inside of his car smells faintly of an unfamiliar cologne. I take a deep breath and revel in it.
This is it, isn’t it?My sliver of reckless abandon, my chance to forget everything and just live for the moment. To jump into bed with a good-looking stranger. My first one-night stand to mark my first night in Nashville.
Hudson settles into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low purr. He places a hand on my thigh, and then asks, “You sure about this? About spending the night with me?”
I nod, our eyes meeting in the dim light of the car. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good.” He pats my thigh before moving his hand and shifting into gear. “Because I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget it.”
CHAPTER THREE
Hudson
We pull up to the driveway of the house I live in with my best friend, Levi. It’s a modest two-bedroom bungalow with a white—now dingy beige—picket fence out front. There are a few scattered dandelions that have taken root in an overgrown flower bed. A lone wooden chair sits on the small square of cement we call a patio.
The place may not seem like much, but it’s ours.
Despite Levi’s protests, I pay more than my fair share of the rent using my scholarship money and working double shifts during the off-season. But it’s worth it for the independence and sense of home this place gives me.
Stepping out of the car, I round the hood to open Ella’s door. She’s all kinds of beautiful. The type of woman who can make a man forget his purpose, if only so that he could take her home and show her a good time. A stunning stranger with an accent that makes my pulse pound.
She has dark hair, hazel eyes, and a slim but athletic build. Her fair skin is flushed pink, cheeks glowing with a hint of excitement. She’s exactly my type—effortlesslycaptivating, with a subtle confidence that comes and goes in waves.
She takes my hand with trembling fingers.
“Nervous?” I ask, flashing her a reassuring smile.
“A little,” she admits, nibbling on that plump bottom lip. “It’s been a while since I’ve done … something like this.”
“Hey, don’t worry,” I say, gently sliding my fingers along her upper arm. “I’ll take damn good care of you.”
She lets out a low laugh, and I see some of the tension leave her body. “Confident, are you?”
“Very.” My hand slowly wraps around the back of her neck, thumb grazing the little knot at her nape. “Can I kiss you?” I murmur. “Take some of the edge off?”
“Yes,” comes her breathy response. Her eyes go wide, sparkling under the floodlights.
I lean in, our lips colliding in the softest of caresses. A faint brush of skin against skin. It’s tentative at first, but soon enough she’s melting against me, opening up like a goddamn flower.
Her taste is intoxicating; all traces of the bar and the schnapps she’d been drinking earlier gone now, replaced by something even sweeter—something more distinct to her.
