Page 114 of Hate You Later
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I run the hottest bath I think I can stand and pour a lavish amount of lilac-scented bubble bath in. Then I light some candles, order Alexa to play a jazz channel, and dim the lights. Hudson isn’t marrying Ashley. He’s right downstairs, in my kitchen.
When the tub is full of frothy foam, I strip off the fishnets, my skirt, my bodysuit, and the hot-pink underwear I’d selected earlier, back when I’d imagined the possibility of a very different sort of night. I hang my fairy wings on a hook on the door. Finally, I slip my naked body into the bubbly heaven that’s awaiting.
I attempt to empty my mind of all thoughts and float.
“Knock, knock.” Hudson raps on the bathroom door. “Okay to come in?”
I look down at the tub, which is still so full of bubbles that he’s not likely to get an eyeful. “You sure that’s safe?” I ask.
“I won’t look, Scout’s honor,” Hudson says. “I just don’t want to make you get out of your bath.”
“You can come in,” I say. “And don’t worry about your virtue. You’d need X-ray vision to see through all the bubbles.”
He enters the bathroom, holding my favorite mug. It’s steaming, and there’s a spoon standing upright in it. He sets it on the counter and pulls up a stool next to the tub.
“I have news for you, Georgia. I don’t need X-ray vision. I’ve got a photographic memory.”
He’s lost the helmet, but he’s still wearing the vest. I sink deeper under the bubbles and allow my eyes to slide closed. My memories are currently more pornographic than photographic.
“Nice choice of music, by the way. Now, do you want to talk?”
“Actually, there’s something I need to get off my chest.” I sit bolt upright, forgetting for a minute and exposing myself. He shakes his head and laughs. I realize I’m blushing, and I cross my arms over my chest and slide back down under the water.
“I was actually looking for you earlier too,” I say. Suddenly, it seems really important that whatever he has to say, I’d better say my piece first. I’ve been granted a second chance by some miracle, and I’m not going to waste it.
“Okay,” Hudson says. “Hit me. Only, maybe don’t actually hit me this time?” He fiddles with the wings hanging on the door.
“I don’t want to be friends with you, Hudson.”
“You don’t?”
“And I don’t want to be ‘friends with benefits’ either. Although this benefits package is super tempting.” I gesture toward him.
“You like my package?” He grins.
“Oh, shut up.” I splash him and he acts shocked.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done. I’m soaked! I’m going to have to take this off.”
He stands and peels off the vest and the muslin top. I find myself counting the ridges in his six-pack and staring at the pale-blond treasure trail that is right about my eye level right now. If I splash his pants, will he take them off too?
“You were saying?” He reaches across the tub and grabs a sponge. “May I?” he gestures to my back.
I lean forward and close my eyes as he pushes my hair to the side and proceeds to wash my back with slow, sweeping strokes. His hand dips down into the water to wet the sponge, and he squeezes it out along my spine.
“Ugh … stop it. I can’t think. That just feels too good.” I moan. My nipples are hard and my toes are curling. I don’t think I’ve ever been so simultaneously aroused and relaxed.
“So, don’t think.” His lips tease my earlobe as he leans across to whisper in my ear.
“I think I’m falling in love with you!” I blurt it out and duck under the water so I don’t have to see his reaction.
How long can I realistically hold my breath? I’ve never been very good at it. But this, I think, is the perfect time to go for a personal record. I stay down as long as I can, only emerging when my lungs are screaming. I open one eye slowly. The stool is empty, but the pile of clothes on the floor has grown. I sit up straight and look over my shoulder.
There he is. Looking more like a bold Viking warrior than ever, without a stitch of clothing on.
“Scoot forward,” he says, easing into the tub behind me and wrapping me up in his long, strong limbs. “You were saying?” He nibbles at my neck and cups my breasts.
