9. Hudson

9

HUDSON

There’s only one logical explanation as to why I’m currently at a college bar right now. Only one singular reason that I walked into this building that’s drowning in cowgirl-dressed coeds with “Save a Horse” playing over the speakers.

Fucking Chaney.

My dumb ass answered his call earlier tonight, and somehow, this is where we ended up. The very last place in Chicago I’d ever be if I were alone or with anyone else, for that matter. I was tempted to turn the hell around and walk back to the car, but we were gaining more attention than I wanted by arguing in the parking lot.

“Really, Chaney? Of all fucking places,” I mutter, my eyes flitting around the crowd of cowboy hats and rhinestone-encrusted everything.

“What? My friend said it’s two for one, and look at those Daisy Dukes, dude.” He bites his fist as a girl rushes by in cutoff jean shorts and a tied flannel top that barely holds her tits in. This is exactly the kind of place I should’ve expected the rookie to take me to.

I figured we’d go somewhere chill, have a few beers, and I’d head out. So imagine my surprise when I was greeted by a college-aged version of Dolly Parton the second I walked through the threshold.

“You’re a literal millionaire. You’re worried about two-for-one beer?” I say, my eyebrows rising in question.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Rich people don’t stay rich by blowing money, Rome. You should know that.”

My jaw hurts from clenching it. Don’t get me wrong, I like women in short shorts like the next guy, but this place? Not even near somewhere I feel comfortable. I’m at least ten years older than most of the people in this room. Yet another reminder of why I can’t have the college girl I can’t seem to get off my damn mind.

Chaney stops walking as we get to the bar and turns to me. “Look, you need to relax. And what better way to relax than a night out. Right? Let’s have some drinks, meet some bunnies, and remove the hockey stick from your ass for five seconds. Make sure it’s not becoming a permanent part of your body.”

“I’m about two seconds from sticking that stick up your ass, rookie.” He’s right though. I could maybe unwind some, quit being a moody asshole. I roll my eyes and give him a small smirk. “Fuck it. Let’s get some beers. Find a table.”

With a clap on my back, his grin widens. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

After waiting for our beers, we grab the bottles and head through the crowd, mostly keeping our heads down to not attract attention.

That’s part of the reason I hate going to places like this. It’s next to impossible to blend in. Here, I’m the Playboy Playmaker, all-star goalie. The one everybody wants a piece of.

Chaney finds a table at the back, and he sets the beers down, sliding into the booth.

“Shit, I should’ve come here sooner. Look at her.” He points toward a girl wearing nearly assless blue jean chaps. She’s got a pair of bright pink cheeky shorts underneath.

One hundred percent his type. I give him all of five minutes before he’s on his way over to her.

I take a pull of the cold, crisp beer, my eyes scanning the crowd, landing on a short blonde with wide hips and a familiar ass that has been on repeat in my mind for the last few weeks.

The girl my dick is obsessed with.

The girl with the soft little breathy moans that I still hear every time I close my eyes and fist my cock in the shower.

Of course she’d be here because that’s exactly something that would happen to me.

The universe is dangling the one thing I can’t have in front of me, even though there’s nothing else I want more.

Her curvy, soft body moves with the music, her hands in the air as she sways in sync with the rhythm. Her eyes are tightly shut, and some asshole stands behind her, his hips too fucking close to hers as they dance.

Fuck me.

“Who are you staring at?” Chaney asks, pulling me from my thoughts, reminding me that he’s still here.

“No one.”

I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that Caroline is here or that I got caught staring at her in the first place. As far as the guys know, I’m purged of all things my coach’s daughter.

I’m supposed to be pretending this didn’t happen when, in fact, I’m doing the opposite.

Supposed to be staying away from her, and that’s not happening either.

I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like she’s on constant repeat through my thoughts, even more so knowing that I’ll never get the opportunity to touch her again. Not like that night.

“Okay, if you say so. I’m going to get Mrs. Chaps’ number.” He slides out of the booth, leaving me alone with the half-drunk beer and the thoughts that really shouldn’t even be crossing my mind right now.

I watch as Caroline and the douchebag slide into a booth across the room, and he smiles as he scoots in even closer to her.

Every time he reaches out to touch her, my teeth grind.

It’s not like I have any say over who touches her, but the thought of another guy putting his hands on her, and touching her the way that I did, makes me fucking crazy.

I’m already fucking crazy for feeling like this.

Before long, my jaw aches from clenching it so hard. My beer has gone warm, and I haven’t bothered to pay attention to where Chaney went. My eyes haven’t left her.

The last straw is when he leans in, as if he’s going to kiss her, his fingers sliding along the expanse of her arm, and I can’t take it anymore. I stand from my booth and walk over to them before I even think about what it is I’ll fucking say once I get there.

“Holy shit,” polo-clad douchebag whispers in reverence when I approach the table, my fists clenched at my side.

Obviously, he’s a fan.

Appreciate that, but I do not fucking appreciate the way he’s been looking at Caroline like she’s his next meal.

When, in fact, she will not ever be. Not if I have anything to say about it.

When she looks up, her blue eyes widen in surprise before she smiles and arches her brow as if to ask, What?

The goddamn outfit she’s wearing is so distracting I try not to let my gaze drop lower to the obscenely low-cut, tied-off top she’s wearing.

Christ, I’m losing my fucking mind. That’s what’s happening. I’ve lost it, and standing here just proves it.

“Can I… talk to you for a second?” I say, pointedly ignoring the kid next to her. “Privately?”

“Uh, we’re kind of in the middle of something…” the kid mumbles. My gaze flickers to his, and I see him fidgeting nervously.

I don’t even bother responding to him. He looks like he’s about two seconds away from shitting his pants anyway. I came over here for her, and I’m not leaving without her.

“Caroline,” I say.

“Oooookay.” She grabs her clutch, then turns to face douchebag. “Excuse me, Jay. Sorry.”

The kid nods silently, then watches as she slides from the booth and brushes past me.

I guess now would be the time to decide what the hell I’m planning to say. But the truth is, I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is that seeing his hands on her, touching her skin, drove me over the goddamn edge.

One I’ve been teetering on since she walked into that office weeks ago and I realized who she was.

I couldn’t watch it for another second. I wasn’t going to watch it for another second.

Caroline pushes through the crowd, her small body struggling to get through the sea of people, so I walk ahead of her and make a path to the back of the bar, grabbing her hand to keep us from being separated. I push open the back door, then step out into the alley to give us some quiet and privacy, with her following behind me.

Turning to face her, I get my first real look at her not under the neon strobe lights and darkness in the club.

That fucking top. It’s light pink, a color that pairs perfectly with her skin, tied under tits that are seemingly spilling from the fabric. Her exposed stomach is soft and perfect for my hands. The Daisy Dukes with hot pink boots are fucking ridiculous, but fuck, she’s pretty, and they showcase her thick, creamy thighs.

“Why do you look so mad right now? You’re all red and… weird. What’s happening?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pushing her already perky tits up higher.

“I’m not mad.”

“Well, it sure seems like it. You were not very nice to J—”

Stepping forward suddenly, I slide my hands along her jaw, pulling her face to me and slamming my lips into hers without warning. My self-control and small semblance of restraint fly out of the fucking window, along with my ability to give a shit about the consequences the moment I taste her. That fucking watermelon gum that I’ve been dreaming of.

Am I crossing the line that I so firmly drew in the sand between us?

Fuck yeah I am.

But I can’t stop myself. I’ve been fucking obsessed with her, in my head, in my goddamn dreams, for weeks, and tonight pushed me over the edge. I can’t do it anymore.

I don’t want to do it anymore. Pretend that I’m not so attracted to her it’s driving me insane. Being close to her, smelling that watermelon fucking gum that she’s obsessed with, knowing how sweet it tastes. How sweet she tastes. Everywhere.

I’m done.

The moment that my lips touch hers, she fucking melts.

Right in my hands.

My hands cradle her jaw, and I kiss her with every ounce of frustration I’ve felt for the past few weeks of denying myself. Knowing that I couldn’t have her.

That I still can’t have her.

Her hands fly to my chest, where she fists the fabric of my T-shirt in her tiny hands, moaning around my tongue, which has slipped into her mouth, working hers. There’s nothing patient or gentle about this kiss. It’s needy, frantic, and unhinged, both of us desperate for each other.

Bending, I hoist her up, my mouth never leaving hers as her legs hook around my waist, pressing her right against my cock, which is straining against the zipper of my jeans. She mewls when she feels the contact, the hardness of me pressed against her, only the barrier of denim separating us.

“Wait, what are—” She pulls back, panting, and I use the moment to pepper her jaw with kisses, sliding my tongue lower to her neck, where I suck the delicate skin. “What are we doing, Hudson?”

“Stop talking, Caroline,” I rasp, my eyes finding hers. Both of our chests heave as we try to catch our breath after minutes of what feels like only breathing air into the other. “I couldn’t watch him touch you for another goddamn second, or I was going to spend the night in a jail cell.”

Surprise flashes across her face. “You were… jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous, Bubblegum.”

“Clearly, you do.” She wiggles her hips with each word, and I bite down on my lip so hard that I taste the tangy, metallic flavor of blood. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She knows exactly the effect she has on me, and she’s right. I was jealous.

That’s why I’ve got her pinned against a dirty brick wall in an abandoned fucking alley outside of a goddamn college bar, where anyone could walk out and find us, knowing the consequences of my actions.

I’m fucked. That’s it.

This girl has my head fucked.

And I don’t want it to be any other way.

I just want her.

“I want you, and I am so fucking sick of pretending that I don’t,” I say honestly, my eyes holding hers. “And I think you want me just as bad. I’m giving in. I’m waving the white fucking flag because I can’t last another second without touching you. Can I have you, Caroline?”

Biting her lip, she says, “Are you asking for a repeat of the broom closet, Hudson Rome?”

Her words send a laugh rumbling from my chest. “You meant the time I barely made you come?”

Her shoulder pops, a flirty smile gracing her lips. “I’m willing to let you redeem yourself. Maybe.”

This time, a groan erupts, deep and throaty, and I drop my head against her soft chest. “That mouth.”

And then her lips ghost across mine, and I fucking love that she’s the one to initiate it. I don’t know much about my Juliet, except that she’s as off-limits as they come, and the sound that she makes when she comes.

Oh, and that she’s a liar, because I made her come several times in the span of just a few minutes, but I’ll play her games. For now.

I can tell she’s confident and comfortable in her own skin, and I fucking love it.

I deepen the kiss, angling my head to slip inside her mouth, my hands cradling her jaw, and goddamnit, I want her.

I want to take her home and lay her out on my bed, peel each layer off her until she’s naked, her honey-blonde hair spread out around her as I devour her, make her come until she’s limp and stated, then flip her over and slide into her over and over.

The back door to the club flies open, slamming against the wall near us, causing us both to jump. I lower Caroline slightly and step in front of her, shielding her from whoever stumbled through the door.

When I glance over my shoulder, I see a young couple stumbling toward the street, clutching each other, their backs to us.

Thank fuck.

Jesus, that was close.

The moment now broken, I glance down at her. “That’s one way to end up on the front page of a tabloid.”

She nods. “Yeah, I, uh… I think I probably need to get home anyway. I have a really long day of studying tomorrow. I’ll call an Uber.”

“No.”

“Uh, what do you mean no?”

Stepping back, I pull the cowboy hat further down on her head and straighten her top, which is slightly askew from my hands. I try to ignore the fact that we just made out and dry humped against the wall like a bunch of fucking teenagers, almost getting caught.

“I mean you’re not getting in an Uber. You’re dressed like a fucking cowgirl, and you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you in an Uber. I’ll take you home.”

“While I appreciate your concern, I know how to take care of myself. And I don’t have my own car, so Uber is how I get everywhere and will for the foreseeable future.”

I shake my head. “Which is fine if you weren’t dressed like that and hadn’t been drinking all night at a bar. I’d feel better if I was the one taking you home. Plus, I drove here and am going to pass the campus on my way home anyway.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and sighs defeatedly, like she realizes already that there’s no point in arguing with me because I’m not letting her get into an Uber alone after drinking.

Over my dead body.

I’ll pick her ass up and throw her over my shoulder before I let her get into the back of a stranger’s car without me.

“You’re infuriating, and I hope you know that you can’t just bust into my life and take control of things. I don’t care how good the dick is.”

“Oh? So now you’re admitting that you love my cock?” My eyebrows rise in question, and a smirk slides onto my lips before I can stop it, although I quickly let it drop.

Even though she rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, I can see the grin trying to emerge on her face too.

“I’m admitting nothing. I’m simply giving in to your caveman demands because it’ll save me twenty bucks on an Uber, and you being a gazillionaire professional hockey player and all… Remember, I am a struggling college student, in case you forgot.”

As fucking if I could ever forget that shit.

Gesturing toward the parking garage, she says, “Lead the way, Romeo.”

I don’t bother to hide my grin this time.