19. Caroline

CAROLINE

Ithink first “not dates” are pretty much ruined for any man that will come after Hudson Rome.

Today has been… magical.

The kind of “not date” that I couldn’t forget even if I tried. It wasn’t fancy. I didn’t wear the prettiest dress I own paired with my best heels or drink the most expensive champagne in town while eating at a restaurant with a yearlong waitlist.

Yet, it was more incredible than all of those things combined.

It was simple. Low-key.

It was us.

Whatever that means. It was so much fun, and I haven’t been able to wipe the smiles from my face all day. I would spend countless days on “not dates” with this man if they were even half this fun.

“You can’t be a true Chicagoan without having a Chicago-style hot dog, Bubblegum,” Hudson says as we walk hand in hand up to a small cart on the sidewalk. “You look skeptical. Are you doubting my food choices?”

“After Cheesie’s? Absolutely not.”

He chuckles. “Good. Because this hot dog is like an initiation ritual when you live in Chicago. Gene and Jude’s is a rite of passage, really.”

My hand clasped tightly in his, he leads us to the stand and orders for us. The man behind the counter hands over two massive hot dogs and an order of homemade chips for us to share.

“Wait, can I get some ketchup?” I ask.

Hudson freezes, his jaw dropping, his gaze sliding to the attendant behind the counter, who looks just as shocked that I just asked for freakin’ ketchup.

“Ummm… is that a no?”

“Bubblegum, you do not put ketchup on a Chicago hot dog. You just… you just do not,” Hudson sputters, the attendant nodding in agreement.

“Tourists,” he mutters.

Tossing my head back, I laugh. “Oooookay, sorry I had no idea that ketchup was such a taboo idea in Chicago. I thought it was like a universal hot dog condiment.”

Hudson chuckles, and he takes our hot dogs and leads me to a secluded table nearby. I get a good look at the hot dog and see that it’s on a seeded bun covered in mustard, relish, and… pickles? With peppers, tomatoes and onions.

“Alright, I’m doubting you. This looks gross, Romeo.”

“Just try it. Trust me. If you hate it, I’ll eat them both.” He pushes the plate toward me and leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me pick it up and take a bite.

Okay…

“Holy shit,” I mumble with a mouthful of this deliciousness. The blend of flavors is incredible.

Smirking, he cocks his head as if saying I told you so.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I need two more.”

“Anything for you, baby. But finish that first, then we’ll see about two more.”

I scarf down half of it in a matter of seconds and take a giant sip of my Coke before leaning forward on my elbows to look him in the eyes. “So, my dad texted me last night.”

Hudson stops with the hot dog halfway to his mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallows slowly. I know that my dad being his coach makes him uncomfortable and nervous, and it’s still the elephant in the room between us. We don’t really talk about him much, in part because we basically agreed to not let it affect things between us when we decided to start hooking up. I know he’s worried about what my dad would think, and even though I’m not letting what my dad thinks hold me back, I don’t bring it up because I don’t want it to make him feel uncomfortable.

“He wants me to go to tomorrow night’s game since I’ve not been to a game yet. He didn’t really give me much notice, and he already booked a room for me at the hotel and wants me to fly up on the plane with you guys. I-I tried to say no, but he insisted, and I kind of want to go? If you want me there?”

He sets his food down and then reaches across the table to take my hand. “Do you know how bad I want to see you in the stands cheering my name? How bad I’ve wanted that since the first night with you? Come to the game. Have a fucking blast, and know that every time I look up into the stands, I’ll be looking for you. Be my good-luck charm, Bubblegum. So yeah, I want you there. We just have to be careful like we have been so far.”

Easy.

* * *

The towelin my hand is damp as I wring it around the wet strands of my long hair in Hudson’s massive bathroom. The walls are bright white with calming pale blue accents, and honestly, the entire house is gorgeous. But this room? Complete with a deep soaking tub that’s the size of my entire room at the sorority house? Yeah, it’s next-level.

“You’ve been eying that tub for ten minutes, Bubblegum. You wanna take a bath?” he asks as he leans against the counter.

I pull my lip between my teeth and drag my eyes to his. “Could I? I mean, look at it, Hudson. It’s basically a pool… inside your house.”

It has been so long since I’ve been able to take a proper bubble bath, and in a tub this luxurious? I’m practically drooling. Sharing bathroom space with fifty other girls has been my life for the past couple of months, and I am not the self-sabotaging type of girl.

I need to soak in this tub. Need. Especially since there are muscles in my body that are sore from the batting cages that I didn’t even know existed.

Hudson’s massive shoulders shake with laughter, “Baby, I’m six foot fucking four. I wanted a tub that could accommodate that, so I had this one installed when I purchased the house.”

Shit. That makes sense. He’s so tall, and god, his shoulders are so broad and thick. Something tells me that even though the tub is huge, it would still make him look like a giant.

I watch as his large hand closes over the faucet as he turns it on, cranking up the hot water. The tub slowly begins to fill with water, steam billowing in soft tendrils through the air.

“Come here.”

His voice is low and deep, causing a feeling of lust to stir deep in my gut. Even with me wearing his T-shirt and boxers, he still eyes me like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. I can feel them as they slide down my body. As if he’s physically touching me without ever lifting a finger.

My feet move without even thinking, placing me in front of him. His bare chest is so close that my nipples harden and strain against the fabric of his T-shirt as they brush against the solid expanse of chest, causing me to suck in an excited breath.

We’ve danced around this part of the non-date all night, teasing each other until we were wild with desire.

Taunting.

Leading up to this very moment.

Wordlessly, he slips his fingers underneath the hem of the T-shirt, brushing the pads of them over the soft curve of my hip before slowly lifting it.

Inch by inch. Higher and higher.

I raise my arms so he can pull it off. He casually tosses it onto the floor next to us, all while his gaze holds mine so intensely that I have to squeeze my thighs together to dull the throb. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him, judging by his eyes flaring with hunger.

I’m standing in front of him wearing only his boxers, which are barely staying up on my hips, and my clit throbbing between my legs.

“Take off your panties, Caroline,” he says, his voice deep and growly.

I swallow, lifting a shaking hand to loop in the waistband, slowly dragging them down my hips and shimmying until they fall in a pool at my feet. I can see how badly he wants me, and not just by the way his cock is thick and pressing against the thick fabric of his gym shorts but by the way he is devouring me wholly with his eyes.

I’m convinced that there is nothing better than being eye fucked by Hudson Rome.

Except actually being fucked by him, which should be a given.

“You have no idea the power you have over me, Caroline,” he husks, bringing his thumb to ghost along my bottom lip before trailing his fingers along the expanse of my chest, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts. My chest heaves as he moves torturously slowly, completely unhurried as he drags his flat palm down the center of my chest.

A smirk tugs at his handsome—too handsome—lips when I shudder beneath his fingers as he continues his slow trail down my body.

I’ve never in my life felt so… wound up. Desperate for anyone’s touch. So tightly strung. Like the finest thread ready to snap at any given moment.

That’s the perfect way to describe what being with Hudson feels like.

Like you’re on the edge of a cliff and desperate to reach euphoria at the bottom of it, no matter if it means plummeting. Regardless of the consequences.

When he leans forward and his warm breath fans across my nipples, goosebumps break out along my flesh, and I lift my hand to reach for him. To finally end this… torturous form of foreplay.

“Not yet,” he whispers, dipping his head lower and flicking his tongue against my sensitive nipple before sucking it into his mouth, then letting go with a pop. “This is mine, Caroline. I want to memorize every inch of this body, and I won’t be rushed. Not even by you.”

God, why is his mouth so… delicious.

“F-fine,” I say shakily, somehow finding my voice despite my head being dizzy from the feeling of his mouth on me.

His tongue laves my aching nipples again, and he spends his time nibbling, sucking each one, and then moving to the other to give it the same attention. Then he leaves a trail of wet kisses up my chest, dragging his teeth so tenderly along my collarbone that I whimper.

He’s slowly causing me to lose my mind.

With each brush of his scruff along my skin, each stroke of his fingers, he leaves me more sensitive than before.

“Hudson,” I plead. Begging him to… touch me. To take this ache away that he’s created.

Finally, he stands tall, bringing his hands to my jaw to cradle it before his lips meld with mine, his grip possessive as he kisses me tenderly yet with more passion than I’ve ever known. He coaxes my lips open and sweeps his tongue inside, stealing the breath right from my lungs.

My heart pounds in my chest frantically, and my pulse flutters wildly when he suddenly tears his lips away to guide me into the massive tub, which is now full of inviting warm water.

“Relax first, Bubblegum. You’re going to need it with the night I have planned for you,” he smirks with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Oh god,” I moan, squeezing my eyes shut as I sink into the water, letting the warmth envelop my entire body until my limbs are loose and languid. When I open my eyes once more, Hudson’s standing over the tub, watching me sink further down into the water.

In the blink of an eye, he pulls the gym shorts around his hips down, along with the tight black boxer briefs that were peeking out the waistband. Scooting me forward, he steps into the water behind me and maneuvers me between his legs, pulling my back against his chest and wrapping his arms around me, his hands resting on my stomach. I fit against his chest perfectly, and I’m convinced that this is the most relaxed I’ve ever been in my entire life.

The warm water, the dim recessed lighting, the soft floral smell of the bubble bath he used. The embrace of the man behind me.

“Today was perfect,” I mumble. “You are perfect, Hudson Rome. The best not-date I’ve ever had.”

His chest vibrates with his laugh. “Hopefully you let me take you on another non-date one day, Bubblegum.”

“Maybe so, Romeo.”

He slides his large hands from my stomach upward to my breasts, where he kneads lightly, his touch calming me in ways that it shouldn’t, but I don’t question it. I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale the breath I had been holding.

He sits us both up, grabbing the soap and lathering it on the loofah before he begins washing my body, cleaning every inch before moving to my hair, where he massages the shampoo into my scalp gently. His movements are unhurried and thorough, allowing me to relax further into his touch.

The feeling is foreign, someone taking care of me. Handling me like the most delicate thing he’s ever held in his hands. Putting me first.

While his touch is intimate… it’s not sexual.

It’s tender. Gentle.

“Bubblegum,” he rasps, followed by his lips planting a soft, sweet kiss behind my ear that has me shivering in his arms. “The water is turning cold. Let’s go to bed.”

I nod, and I feel him rise from the water behind me and step out. He grabs a towel from the warmer and holds it open for me as I step out and into the soft, warm fabric.

“Only rich people have towel warmers, Romeo,” I tease, a grin hanging on my lips.

He wraps it tighter around me. “I should take it off of you just so I can see those tight little nipples that are pebbled from the cold, begging to be sucked. And then I can spank your ass since you have so much to say with that smart mouth. Turn your ass red, leave my handprints all over your soft, milky skin.”

Holy shit.

Even after all of the times this man has fucked me until I could barely walk and has eaten me like a starving man, I will never get over his mouth and how deliciously dirty it is when he says things like this.

I sashay around him and unknot the towel, letting it drop to the floor. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

When I glance back over my shoulder, I see his gaze darkening, growing heavier as he watches my ass sway while I walk away.

I walk out of the bathroom, leaving him standing alone, and head straight for the bag I packed for tonight, pulling out the Avalanche jersey and running my fingers over the embroidered name on the back.

Before I can even put it on, I feel heat meet my back, the warmth of his now dry body radiating onto me. Yet, I still shiver in response.

Because no matter what I do, I respond to Hudson in ways I have no control over. It’s visceral.

“Put it on, Bubblegum,” he breathes into my ear, his hand meeting my neck, his fingers trailing down my spine, the barest of touches. “I want to see you wearing my name. Let me pretend, even just for now, that you’re mine. That you've always been mine. From the moment I left that closet with your panties in my pocket, and your cunt on my tongue.”

Mine.

And today I really did feel like he was mine. And that I was his. Something I could never truly be. But when it’s just us two, alone in the dark, we could pretend. I can be his here.

Pretending is no drama. Pretending doesn’t leave you with a broken heart. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned from loving my dad, the first important man in my life, it’s that people can leave you even if they say they love you, and you’re left behind to pick up the pieces. So pretending is easier. Pretending is safe.

Pretending would make sure neither of us could get hurt, that we never ruin the fun dynamic we have between us. Even though there’s a part of my heart that seems to feel like maybe this is…

I don’t know.

Maybe it could be more. Maybe it already is. But I can’t let it become that.

Tamping those thoughts away, I turn to face him, handing him the jersey, then raising my arms for him to slip it over me. And he does. Torturously slow, he drags it down my body, then walks me forward until my front hits the wall, and his hands are on me. Everywhere.

Starting at my thighs, his fingers trail upward, gripping handfuls of my ass as he pushes his hardness against me, lifting until he ghosts the pads of his fingers along the sensitive skin of my sides.

And while most of the time, I want him to take the lead, tonight feels… different.

I turn to him, pushing him back slightly, reveling in the surprised look on his face as I drop to my knees before him. My hands tug at the white towel knotted around his waist until it pulls free and pools at his feet, exposing his hard cock.

“Bubblegu—” he starts, but the moment my lips close around the tip of him, his hands thread into my hair, and a sharp hiss tumbles from his lips. “Fuckkkk.”

He drags the syllable out the further I take him into my mouth, tightening his grip with each inch. My hands fly to his hips for leverage as I take him down my throat, my fingers digging into his skin. I can feel him trembling beneath my touch, and it does something powerfully possessive to me knowing that I have the power to bring this man to his knees.

Even with his hands in my hair, gripping tightly, I’m the one that’s in control. I bring my hands to his length and wrap around him, pumping his cock as I take him deeper, the head of him bumping against the back of my throat, causing me to gag slightly.

“Goddamn,” Hudson pants, his hips flexing into shallow thrusts as he fucks my mouth in earnest. I love this side of him. The rough, slightly unhinged side that doesn’t hold back, that doesn’t treat me as if I’m breakable.

Usually he pulls me off before he comes, but tonight, when he tugs at my hair, I take him deeper, using both my hands in time with my mouth because I want him to come. I want to taste him.

“Caroline, I’m about to—” He pants. “Fuck, your throat feels so good, Bubblegum. I’m coming.”

He flexes his hips upward, shoving his cock all the way down my throat before throwing his head back, grunting his release. I feel his cum paint the back of my throat as I swallow him down.

When he finishes, he pulls from my mouth, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and my saliva. Lifting his finger, he spreads it on my lips, his heavy-lidded gaze darkening, “I can’t decide what I love more. My jersey on your back or my cum on your pretty lips.”

Holy shit.

This man… his mouth. I squeeze my thighs together as anticipation unfurls inside of me. My clit throbs at just the thought of the look of pure pleasure on his face as he just came in my mouth.

“On the bed, Caroline. I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

A shiver runs down my spine, and I rise from my knees, headed straight for the bed, feeling his eyes on me with every step I take.

I lay myself out on his bed, ready for him to take. Pretending or not, tonight I’m going to soak up every delicious moment with this man.