My Kind of Wonderful

“Oh,” she breathed on a shuddering exhale, her head falling back. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have hands on her for reasons that had nothing to do with saving her life and everything to do with sheer pleasure.

“Okay?” he murmured.

“Very,” she whispered, eyes closed. “More please.”

He laughed softly, his warm breath caressing her throat as he did. “So polite.”

“I t-t-try,” she managed, stuttering as he lifted the cami up and over her head.

When he didn’t make a sound or move, she covered her scar and sighed. “I told you,” she said, and opened her eyes.

He bent and kissed her fingers. Then he pried them away from her body and kissed the scar itself. “You’re beautiful,” he said against her skin. “Every inch of you, in and out. Don’t apologize for the scar. It’s a part of you, a really important part.”

She smiled, the words warming her. “I wasn’t worried for me,” she said softly. “I just didn’t want to wreck your mood with it.”

He let out a low laugh, shook his head, and leaned in. “You’re amazing,” he said, and brushed his mouth over hers. “Don’t ever worry about my mood. My mood is not your problem or your responsibility. Ever. And in any case, you elevate my mood.” He stroked his hands down her torso and went straight for the button on her jeans.

“Hudson?”

He lifted his head from his task and looked at her, his eyes so dark they appeared nearly black, heavy lidded with all sorts of thoughts that seemed entirely about her and entirely erotic.

And she promptly forgot what she wanted to say.

Leaning up, he cupped her face and kissed her, soft, sweet. “Bailey, if you’re not ready—”

“No.” She put her fingers over his mouth and shook her head. “I’m ready,” she promised. She kissed his jaw and then rubbed her cheek against it, letting out a low hum of arousal at the feel of his stubble on her skin. He had a scent that every single one of her senses responded to. The texture of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the latent strength in his hands—everything about him did it for her. “I want this,” she said. “I want you.” She moved her hands down his sides, trying to absorb the feel of him. Her fingers found the edge of his towel and she reached to unknot it.

Catching her hands in his, he slowly slid them up to either side of her head. He looked at her for a long moment, and the intensity with which she wanted him actually hurt. “I was thinking now,” she murmured.

He laughed low and sexy in his throat and kissed her then—long, languid kisses that brought a slow build. Rocking up into him, she tugged her hands free, gliding them over his silky smooth shoulders and back, then lower to explore over his towel.

And then beneath.

With a growl, he sucked on her lower lip, then slid away from her mouth to kiss and nip along her jaw and down her throat. When he found the sweet spot at the curve of her shoulder she involuntarily squeezed her thighs against his sides, trying to arch up into him and ease the pressure building inside her.

He rewarded her desperation by rocking that amazing body against hers. She’d been this far before with a man she knew far better and for much longer. She’d been further before.

But this time, with Hudson, felt different. Aaron had always been in careful control and very, very gentle, as if she’d been a fragile flower. So gentle it’d kept her from letting go.

Here, with Hud, there was nothing holding her back. “Hudson,” she whispered, moaning when he bent his head to her bared breasts, using his warm hands and then his even warmer mouth.

Need rolled over her in waves. Desperate, clawing need, and his name tumbled from her lips again, a cry this time. She could feel herself oscillating her hips to his, rubbing his erection against her center. Mindless, she’d twined herself around him, gasping when he slid his hands to her ass.

Her bare ass.

He’d slid off her jeans without her even knowing. The little bikini panties she wore matched her cami, the one now on the floor somewhere. “Pretty,” he said. And then he dragged them slowly down her legs, sending them flying to land near the cami.

His towel followed.

And then he was back, continuing on with his teasing as her body temperature rose alarmingly. He stretched out beside her, stroking her with his big, warm hands, his fingers dancing over her entire body. When he finally nudged open her thighs, he growled in pleasure as he found a few more places to tease.

But one knowing stroke with those callused fingers and she lost her mind.

Completely. Lost. Her. Mind.

He held her through the shattering orgasm and when she could breathe again, she let out a breathless laugh and stared up at the ceiling.

“Bay? You still with me?”

She blinked. This had already been the best sex she’d ever had and all he’d done was touch her.

He came up on his elbow to look into her eyes. “Yeah,” he said, sounding quite full of himself. “You’re still with me.”

“Show-off,” she managed to say, and quivered again when he bent his head and nibbled her hipbone. She felt his lips curl into a smile as he shifted and sucked a patch of skin into his mouth, making her gasp. When he made as if to move again she dug her fingers into his hair, not wanting him to go.

He merely flashed a grin up at her and easily resisted her. The next thing she felt were his wide shoulders making themselves at home between her thighs and then his tongue, warm and strong and incredibly dexterous.

She cried out and nearly rocked them both off the bed.

He tightened his grip on her and went on with his merry torture, his lips creating a sucking, drawing sensation that left her panting and whimpering in seconds.

But every time her body tightened up, he moved away from her center and rubbed his shadowed jaw against her inner thighs until she swore at him, making him laugh again.

When he wanted her to, she came as shamefully easily as she had the first time. Not that she spent even a nanosecond feeling shameful…

He climbed up her body, staying close, close enough that they were touching from their kissing mouths to their entangled feet, though he carefully held most of his weight off of her. She rubbed against him, touching every inch she could reach.

And then some of those really great inches were covered with a condom and inside her, and her thoughts scattered like the wind, replaced by a feeling that nothing had ever felt as good as this, as him.

Nothing.

Her legs wrapped around his waist—just in case he had some notion about getting away. The world was a better place with him buried deep inside her.

Much better.

Hud nudged her face up, meeting her gaze with his hot one for a beat before he kissed her again, serious now, very serious, as he began to move within her. Slowly at first, letting her adjust, carefully fueling her hunger, her need. But her favorite part was when he let go of his own control and forgot himself, thrusting hard. She gasped and rocked up into him as her name was ripped from his lips in a tight, strained voice that flung her right over the edge into a free fall. And this time, she took him along with her.

When they finally staggered out of his room several hours later, loose, sated, starving, there was a cold pizza waiting on the porch for them.

Chapter 13

Midweek found Hud replaying the night wrapped up in Bailey’s hot bod while simultaneously running a training session an hour after the mountain had shut down. He was a most excellent multitasker. It was already dark out and snowing like a mother, and everyone just wanted to get through the damn training, which was made all the more difficult by the weather.