Page 118 of Bridesmaid By Chance
I turn around and look him in the eyes. “Thank you.”
He nods and is about to step aside but then pulls a shirt from one ofhis shelves and hands it to me. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know what he wants me to do.
I slip out of my dress and put it on a hanger next to Hudson’s suit. I remove my bra and underwear and slip his shirt over my head. The soft, rich cotton feels like a warm blanket, wrapping me up in the best way possible. Seriously, nothing is better than wearing one of his shirts, especially after having to wear that dress all evening with the sequins poking my arms.
Once dressed, I move into the bathroom, where Hudson is brushing his teeth. In silence, we get ready for bed together, me taking longer because I have to remove my makeup and go through my skincare routine. The difference in time between men getting ready for bed and women is entirely unfair. Once I put on my last bit of lotion, I turn off the light and head into the bedroom, where Hudson is typing away on his phone.
I ignore him, go to my side of the bed, and slip under the covers while turning out my nightstand light. With my back to him, I adjust my head on my pillow and shut my eyes, trying to rest my head after the insane day I’ve had. Too much happened—too much for someone who hasn’t been in London very long.
And a lot is going on tomorrow; before we left the restaurant, Sheridan asked if we could go to tea tomorrow at the Mayfair Club, so while the boys are in the cigar room, I’ll be partaking in a spot of tea.
Rest is key, especially so I don’t slip up again and start saying something like…how big Hudson’s dick is.
Spoiler alert, massive.
Did I hear him in the shower? Yes. Did I tell myself not to look? Absolutely. Did I look anyway? How could I not? I walked into that bathroom like I was handed a private invitation to a show. And I watched. I watched that man masturbate like my life depended on it, and it was easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, especially knowing that I was the reason he was doing it.
The man is ripped, head-to-toe muscle wrapping around every limb and his entire torso. And when he’s turned on, when he’s ready to come, the veins in his arms get thicker, more prominent. His expression, tense yet sexy. His hand so large, pulling on his long, thick cock…
God, I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.
I will never get over the sight of him in that shower, wet and pleasuring himself. That will stay with me forever. And whenever I go to pleasure myself again, I know exactly what I’ll be thinking of?—
“What are you doing?” Hudson says, startling me.
“Sl-sleeping,” I say.
His hand wraps around my stomach, and once again, just like last night, he pulls me across the cold bed and right up against his body.
“You sleep here,” he whispers.
“Oh, I wasn’t sure, you know, because of how quiet you’ve been.”
“This is where you sleep at all times. Understood?”
“Yes,” I answer, feeling the frostiness of his voice against my ear.
“Good.” He rests his hand on my stomach like last night and tucks his other arm under his pillow.
“Um…is everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says, his hand curling around the fabric of my shirt.
“Are you sure? Because you seem agitated. And if it was because of what I said at dinner, I just want you to know that I was nervous and?—”
“It wasn’t you.”
“Was it Devin?” I ask on a wince.
He lifts up to look me in the eyes. “What the hell do you think?”
“He’s not that bad of a guy, Hudson.”
His eyes widen. “Are you really defending him right now?”
Yeah, what the hell are you doing, Sloane?
“I just don’t want you thinking?—”
