Page 128 of Her Goal
I hang my head and murmur, “All of this was part of the reason I stopped skating. I couldn’t bear sharing the ice with you on the hockey team, believing you’d been so cruel to bet your brother not to hook up with me.”
“Was there another reason you stopped skating?”
“Hunter said I was too tall. That I’d never get a partner for doubles.”
“He doesn’t know a thing about—” Hudson gazes up at the ceiling, his hand clenching and unclenching. “Leah, I’d quit my hockey career today and skate partners with you if you wanted me to.”
I laugh because he’s joking, but it’s sweet.
Did I truly have the wrong brother all along? I can’t admit thatI havethe goofy yet charming, ruggedly athletic, and attractive brother because the letter in the back of the yearbook and the emails could ruin everything.
“Hunter really never kissed you?”
“No need to rub it in, Hudson.”
He cups the side of my face. “I’d like to find out what he was missing.”
“Even if we kissed, you know, beyond the wedding day peck, it wouldn’t mean anything,” I say, resisting as the yearbook seems to flash like a siren on the table.
“Is that so?” His tone is cool, his angular jaw set.
My surroundings dissolve and I start to melt one shaky inhale at a time.
He looks up at me through his thick lashes as if accepting a challenge.
I whisper, “I’m immune to you.”
His fingers graze my arm, sending a thrill of excitement skittering along my skin.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You would since you’re so full of yourself.” However, there’s no fight in my words. Just longing.
He lets out a deep, rich laugh and his eyes rake over me as the space between us grows incrementally smaller until we’re a heartbeat apart.
My breath turns shallow and my lips involuntarily part.
He presses his mouth to mine and lingers there.
When I don’t respond, he draws back, wearing a half grin. Undaunted, his lips move to the place beneath my ear.
Pulse catching, I repeat, “Just so you know, this doesn’t mean anything.”
“What if it did? What if you like it?” Between each word, he kisses my neck, my chin, and then hovers in front of my mouth again.
“What if I like kissing you? I hope you lose all your teeth,” I say but cannot keep the sweetness out of my voice, like a cat when presented with milk.
“In that case, are you prepared to spoon-feed me oatmeal or mushy peas when we’re old?”
The baseline I’d set was to be annoyed at Hudson, but it’s really desire and I kiss him just so he’ll stop taunting me … and because I so desperately want to.
My family has zero boundaries, and it turns out we don’t either because when his lips land on mine again, a decade’s worth of fireworks explodes between us.
Much like when we danced at HoCo, we easily find our shared rhythm of the kiss with its give and take.
Hudson’s fingers tangle in my hair. His is thick and surprisingly soft. Feeling free to explore, my hands slide down his neck and across the firm plane of his back.
I’m unable to suppress my smile.
