Page 91 of Lucky Laces
Huddy lurches forward, righting him before he can face plant.
Which is pretty much the moment my temper snaps.
“Enough,” I growl, jumping to my feet and brushing my hands on my shorts then marching over to the pair of stubborn males.I take Ernest’s arm, guide him gently (but firmly) over to the chair I sat his ass in not fifteen minutes before.“Stay,” I order then go back to Huddy.
He’s looking up at me.
Smiling.
It’s a great smile.
But even though it makes my brain go a little fuzzy and the space between my legs a little soft and warm (and slick) I don’t let it distract me.
Much anyway.
“And you—ack!”
I don’t get my demand out—and truly, I’m not sure what demand I would have made considering that I’m semi-distracted by his gorgeous smile—because he wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs.
I grunt as I land in his lap.
Then promptly realize what kind of idiocy this man just pulled.“Your leg!”
“Hush,” he mutters.
“But—”
“Look down, DeeDee.”
I do…and am promptly distracted by all the yumminess that is Hudson, yumminess that is further augmented by the fact that he’s a little dirty, a little sweaty, and that the man seriously grimes up good.
“What am I looking at?”I manage to push out, feigning innocence even though I’m looking.
Seriouslylooking.
His lips twitch and he draws me a little closer, warm palm landing on my cheek and turning my head to the side so he can murmur in my ear.“And now,” he says quietly, notes of heat laced through his tone, “I’m desperate to know precisely how dirty a thought it was that just slid through your mind.”
“I—”
A nip to my earlobe.“But considering we have a senior citizen chaperone”—my gaze jerks to the side, having completely forgotten in the last thirty seconds that Ernest is sitting in the chair across from us, and I see that he’s watching us unabashedly—“I’m not going to do what Ireally”—he pairs this with a slight push of his hips, reminding me of how nice it felt to have him between mine—“want to in order to see that lush mouth tell me the secrets in that big, juicy brain of yours.”
“Hudson,” I begin.
“I really love the way you say my name.”Another nip.
I shiver.
“But I wanted you to notice that you’re sitting on my uninjured leg.”
“Oh,” I whisper, looking down and see that, indeed, my ass is currently on his uninjured leg.“Right,” I say when his brows flick up.
“Fuck, you’re adorable,” he mutters and before I can say that I’mnotadorable, that I’m a kickass professional hockey coach who takes no prisoners while winning a metric ton of hockey games, he leans in and kisses me.
I think he meant it to be a simple brush of his lips, just a taste considering we’re in the front yard of Ernest’s house with the aforementioned senior citizen chaperone.
But as seems to often happen with Hudson, that soft brush of his mouth becomesmore.
His tongue slides into my mouth and his hand plunges into my hair, and suddenly I’m plastered against a big, strong hockey player’s chest while he kisses me senseless.
