Page 108 of Wrecking Us
In my arms, with my cock buried in him. His heartbeat racing beneath my palm.
I run my fingers through his hair and kiss him everywhere I can reach.
“Fuck,” I mutter, grinning against his neck. “That was amazing.”
Hudson doesn’t say anything, and I tense, worried something’s wrong.
He sighs and I swear it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Uh-huh,” he mutters.
I smile. “Can you speak?”
He shakes his head. “Uh-uh.”
I laugh and kiss his cheek as I slide out of him, and he groans in disappointment.
“I’m going to clean up and order dinner,” I say.
He nods. “Uh-huh.”
I roll over until I’m off the bed and dispose of my filled condom, wash my hands, and grab a pair of fresh underwear. When I turn around, I note Hudson’s asleep. Soundly.
I smirk as I head to the bathroom and grab a warm washcloth to clean him up. I’m sure he’s tired from the flight and the great sex.
It was pretty fucking awesome, and I’m a little tired, too. Not going to lie.
When I get him all cleaned up, I grab the lube and condom packs from the bed and grab the throw from the base of my bed and spread it out over top of him. Then I pop the sliding glass door a couple inches, because you can always hear the waves best when it gets dark.
I order our food, which is quoted thirty minutes. The whole time, I just relax on my balcony, checking periodically on Hudson. When the food is dropped off, forty-five minutes later, I get it from the front door and bring it out onto the balcony, setting up the bags on the oversized chaise lounge and take a seat in the middle with my food and a couple beers from the fridge.
I’m halfway through my poke bowl when I hear the door open and look up to see Hudson, wrapped in my blanket, his hair a mess, sticking out at all sides. He rubs his eyes.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Didn’t mean to pass out on you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, my voice cracking. Because as I look at him—here in my house, covered in my things, freshly fucked and satisfied, I can’t help myself.
“I love you,” I whisper. Hudson blinks, clearly not expecting my blunder. “Shit, I mean—”
The shock fades, replaced by a sweet, almost innocent smirk.
He closes the few inches between us and gets on the chaise next to me, peeking into one of the bags, and I think for a minute he’s not going to say anything.
I can’t breathe. I think I’m going to pass out.
He pulls out his box with the chicken and waffles sandwich and fries, popping it open, and I think time has stopped.
And then he leans into my space, box in hand and smirks.
“I know,” he says, his voice even and warm.
“You… know?” I ask, my heart beating so loud I think it’s going to escape my damn chest.
Hudson grabs a fry and pops it in his mouth. The only light out here is that of the streetlights and my balcony porch light, the sound of the waves almost as loud as my heart.
Hudson nods.
“Mhmm.”
