Page 42 of Lucky Laces
I fell asleep beside him…and then woke up plastered against him.
Again.
The TV is paused on a truly abysmal still of one of my favorite villains, but it barely captures my attention beyond me noticing that it’s on the screen, illuminating the room.
Illuminatinghim.
And he’s so damned beautiful, lashes resting on the tops of his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, his breaths slow and even and steady.
Peaceful.
Big and strong.
And he smells great—my kryptonite.
Still dangerous.
Still dumb.
Still…unable to keep my distance from him.
The man saved me from being squished by a falling ceiling, was injured in the process…and there was that puzzling look on his face just before the earth started shaking, the pained resignation when he listened to his dad make a fuss.Plus, the heat in his eyes when I took off my shirt, and the whole?—
When I dreamed of you naked.This isn’t how I expected it to go.
I shiver.
Right.There’s that part.
And him watching my show with me, not denigrating it, but listening to me as I ranted…and then making me laugh with his sly sense of humor.
Hudson is funny.
I didn’t know that before.
Quiet, yes.Dependable, definitely a yes.Or I would have said it was a definite before the whole issue with learning the plays and tweaks he needs to make to accommodate the new system.
But possessing a wicked sense of humor wouldn’t have rated on my list of Hudson attributes.
He’s a puzzle—or maybe a multi-faceted pair of dice, every roll bringing a different outcome, revealing a different layer of him.
Maybe that’s why I don’t move.
Maybe that’s why I stay cuddled close, studying his sleeping form—trying to figure out that puzzle, rolling the dice to see what outcome I’ll reveal.
Or maybe?—
He shifts, sighing softly, and the hand that’s resting on the small of my back flexes, drawing me even more flush against him.And maybe that’s why I’m not moving—because the blazing weight of his palm soaking into my skin through the thin material of my tank top is intoxicating.
I don’twantto move.
Even knowing this is a mistake, I stay pressed to him.
It wouldn’t do to wake him when he needs to rest, right?
And trying to extricate myself from the big, bulky hockey player’s grip might hurt him.
Better to stay in place.
