“I was born ready, wife.”
“I bet.”
“You, on the other hand, have trouble telling time. A second and an hour aren’t the same thing.”
I frown. “What?”
“You took an hour upstairs.”
“I had to get dressed.”
“I thought you would use the bathroom and return swiftly.”
“Why would you think that?”
He opens the front door and motions with his hand. “Because you said, and I quote,I’ll be a sec.”
Chuckling, I nod. “Sorry. It’s just something I say. I presumed you’d understand. My bad.”
The dog’s sitting by the couch and after we both call him several times, Hudson picks him up and strides outside. I walk beside him, but can’t see his face through the dog’s big body. Rounding Hudson, I walk on his left. There, that’s better. He’s got a handsome nose and a nice profile.
He’s not strolling, though. Hudson is marching toward the gates. I double my speed to catch up with him.
Down the hill, the gates are closed, so everything seems fine. Not sure what happened that put him in this terrible mood. “Did something happen?” I ask.
“When?”
“While I was in the shower?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Why are you in a hurry?”
Hudson slows down to a normal walking pace. He’s breathing a bit harder now. I mean, he’s carrying seventy pounds of dog and marching, which is all kinds of sexy because I bet this man could prop me against the wall or door or shower and fuck me the way I’ve seen in the movies. That’s such a lovely image that I sigh blissfully just as we make it to the gates.
Hudson puts the dog down. “Gimme a sec,” he says.
Inside the unattended security booth, Hudson grabs the laptop and exits. “There. That took a sec.”
“Got it, Boss.”
He narrows his eyes. “Do you have a problem pronouncing my name?”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
I pat his hard biceps. “Got it, Hudson. Are you?—”
He fists my hair and yanks it back, then presses his mouth over mine, growling at me like some sort of animal. The butterflies in my belly unfurl and fly everywhere as if my body is the sky. I open my mouth, and he thrusts his tongue inside and tilts my head so he can deepen the kiss.
I remember this kiss. This is how he kissed me on our wedding day. Just once, after they announced us husband and wife. The room hooted. I blushed profusely and fumbled like an inexperienced idiot while he kissed me in front of hundreds of people, completely oblivious that perhaps such a kiss belonged in the bedroom, between the sheets, and, you know, maybe also as he thrust into me.
My knees threaten to fold, and I grip his shoulders and hold on to them. He takes my arms and yanks them higher and around his neck, then he lifts my leg and sneaks a hand undermy dress. His fingers graze my panties, then touch under them, lightly grazing my entrance.
I gasp and open my eyes to his gray ones. He didn’t even close his while kissing me. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does. I feel stupid for closing mine and getting all emotional over the kiss. I feel even dumber when he steps back, leaving me hot and bothered on the lawn.
He rubs my wetness between his fingertips and says, “The dog will walk back, I presume. Let’s go.” Then he takes off up the driveway. The dog and I stare after him.
