Misconception (Coming Home)

“You’re drunk.”

“I want you.”

“That’s the alcohol talking.”

“No, baby, it’s me talking.”

“Hudson.” She grips the hem of my shirt, tightening it around her fist. All this time, her hands have been hanging loose at her sides. She’s been the epitome of calm and in control, except for the heat I can see in her eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“Kiss. Me.” My tone is commanding, yet not enough to make her feel like she has no other choice. I would never force her to do anything.

“I” She starts again, then immediately stops. She shakes her head as she licks her lips before she closes the distance and kisses me.

Finally.

Resting my palms against her cheeks, I tilt her head ever so slightly and trace her lips with my tongue. It has the desired effect because she opens for me, allowing me another full taste of heaven.

She is heaven.

I lose track of time. I lose track of where I am. All I can think about is Riley. She tastes better than I remember, and I can’t get enough. I could kiss this woman for days on end and never tire.

She moans. It’s a sound that comes from deep in the back of her throat, and it sparks a fire in my veins. I need more of her. I need all of her. Moving my hands to the backs of her thighs, never missing a stroke of my tongue against hers, I lift, and she wraps her legs around my waist without being told.

I stand still for a moment, just long enough to appreciate the feel of her wrapped around me, before I’m on the move. She doesn’t ask me where we’re going, and she makes no move to protest as I blindly carry her down the hall and to my bedroom.

Hitting the light switch with my elbow, I move toward the bed and gently lower her. She lies back. Her emerald eyes are full of desire as she works for each breath. She watches me carefully, never saying a word. Leaning over the bed, I brace my hands on either side of her head and kiss her again.

“I want you.” Three words I’ve wanted to say to her for years are finally set free.

“Hudson.”

“Yes or no, Riles? I need you to tell me.” I refuse to take advantage of her. I won’t do it. She has to want this too.

“Yes.”

I give her one last kiss before standing to my full height and lifting my shirt over my head. I don’t bother or care to see where it lands when I toss it to the side. Next, I work the button and the zipper on my jeans, pulling them over my thighs and kicking them off to the side.

“Riley.” I breathe her name like a caress. I can’t believe she’s here. I’ve dreamed about this more times than I care to admit, but right now, this is real. This is my reality.

The fact that I’m leaving in a few hours rests on my shoulders like a bag of bricks. I can’t go. I know it’s me going back on my word, but I just can’t leave her. I’m going to ravish her, and then I’ll call Clayton and tell him I’m out.

Riley Burke is finally mine.

CHAPTER 7

Riley

I will forever associate the smell and the taste of beer with Hudson. What once was a beverage of choice on a hot summer’s day or a night out with friends is now something completely different. It’s the smell of him as he leans in close with his lips hovering over mine. And it’s the taste of those same lips.

It’s intoxicating.

Then there’s the fact that the man of my dreams is standing before me in nothing but a pair of tight navy-blue boxer briefs that do nothing to hide the hardness or the size of his… package.

“Riles, you can’t look at me like that.” His voice is a groan; at least that’s what I hear. I can’t be too sure because my eyes are focused on his hand as he reaches down and grips his hardness through that very thin piece of fabric.

I’m so used to hiding the hunger and the want that I have for him that it’s freeing to be able to show him now. However, part of me wonders if we’d even be here right now if he weren’t drunk. I know that it’s wrong, but I can’t pretend any longer. I pushed him away once for fear I wouldn’t remember. Tonight, I’m willing to take the chance that he’s the one who might not have the memory of the specifics of the night we spent together. I hope otherwise, but either way, we’re here. He’s practically naked as he stares at me lying on his bed.

I’m committed.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, beautiful.” He reaches for my hand, pulling me to a sitting position. Leaning over me, he almost stumbles but quickly rights himself with his hands pressed against the mattress. “Lift that gorgeous ass of yours,” he says huskily.