“Hell yes. Now stop hiding from your mother.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “What would I do without you?”
“Crash and burn, obviously,” I replied, but my heart raced as he walked away.
What would I do without him? The question echoed back at me. Six days into... whatever this was, and I was already imagining a future where Hudson Gable was essential to my business. To my life.
We’d been running around all day like chickens with our very stylish heads cut off, so when Hudson and I finally got a moment to ourselves in our makeshift office an hour before the ceremony, I was ready to collapse.
“My feet are staging a revolution,” I groaned, kicking off my heels and collapsing into a chair in the small room. “They’re seceding from the rest of my body.”
Hudson, who was reviewing the ceremony timeline for the thousandth time, glanced up, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “You’d think you’d wear more sensible shoes on days like these.”
“Sensible is ugly. Besides, they make my legs look like they go on for miles,” I countered, stretching said legs out in front of me.
His gaze followed the movement, darkening. “They do.”
“So you agree they’re worth the pain, then?” I wiggled my toes, moaning as the blood flow returned. “I may need to amputate my feet later, though.”
“I’ll find you an excellent surgeon.” He set down his clipboard and moved behind my chair, his hands landing on my shoulders. “God, Mar, you have more knots than a pizza joint.”
“First of all, where did you come up with that comparison?”
“I’m hungry and want garlic knots.”
I chuckled. “And second, weddings will do that to a girl.” I let my head fall back as his fingers dug into the knots in my shoulders. “Oh god, that feels amazing.”
His thumbs pressed into a particularly tight spot at the base of my neck, and I let out a sound that was embarrassingly close to a whimper.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low. “Someone might hear you and get the wrong idea.”
“Would it be wrong?” I countered, tilting my head to look up at him. “We have some time.”
His hands stilled, and something shifted in his heated expression.
“Sweetheart, don’t tempt me.”
“Sweetheart, I’m 95% temptation, and 5% champagne,” I mimicked, holding his gaze.
In one smooth motion, he spun my chair around and leaned down, his hands braced on the armrests, caging me in. “We have a ceremony starting in less than an hour.”
“That’s plenty of time,” I replied, reaching for his tie.
He caught my wrist, his firm grip gentle. “Not for what I want to do to you.” Hudson leaned down, and I held my breath as he kissed along my jaw. “Besides. You’re loud.”
I pulled back to look at him, frowning. “Excuse me. I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not,” I argued, though we both knew I was lying. “I can be quiet as a church mouse.”
His eyebrow arched. “Prove it.”
The challenge in his eyes sent a thrill through me. I glanced at the door—unlocked—and back to Hudson. “You’re on.”
In one swift motion, he pulled me to my feet. My stockinged toes barely touched the floor as he backed me against the wall, his mouth hot on my neck.
“If anyone hears you,” he murmured against my skin, “I stop. Immediately.”
