Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Maybe the break needs to end,” she says, her tone curt.
“We’re not getting back together.” He drains his wine and leans back in his chair, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. The pale blue dress shirt he wore for my graduation molds to his perfect physique. It’s hard to keep my eyes off him. He’s too hot.
“I see,” Aunt Becky says.
“I’m beat,” Uncle Randy grunts. “Ready to go back home?”
They pay the bill and the ride home is silent. Uncle Randy, the least talkative of our bunch, holds the entire conversation. We get to hear all about one of his clients and how he nearly beat his golf score. Hudson fumes from beside me and Aunt Becky grinds her teeth loudly. Once we’re home, Hudson feigns being tired and leaves us to eat cake alone. Uncle Randy eats his cake quickly and then he escapes.
As soon as he’s gone, Aunt Becky says her piece. “Something is going on with you.”
I chew the cake and stare at her with wide eyes. “Hmm?”
Her gaze falls to my ring that sits on my necklace once again, not safe to wear on my finger around people. “You and Travis getting serious?”
“Yep,” I squeak.
She narrows her eyes. “That’s funny because I ran into him today at Amy’s store. His mom owns the one next door. When I mentioned you two dating, he laughed.”
“He’s a jokester,” I mutter. “What did he say?”
Her nostrils flare. “He said he wished you were dating.”
My cheeks burn under her scrutiny. “He was just messing with you.”
“I can tell when you’re lying,” she snaps, making me jump. “If you two are together, maybe you should get him over here for dinner tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I hiss. “I didn’t know I needed proof of who I was dating.”
“Rylie, I’m only trying to help you—”
“I don’t need your help,” I bite out at her.
Me: She’s such a bitch.
Hudson: I know.
Me: Come see me.
Hudson: Too risky. Come see me.
Me: Give me a few minutes to make sure they’re asleep.
I slip out of my bed in the dark and sneak out of my room. The air conditioner keeps the air cold and my bare legs become covered in chill bumps. Hudson will warm me up. I creep over to my aunt and uncle’s room and press my ear to the door. Uncle Randy’s snores are loud and the television is no longer playing, which means they’re both asleep.
Quietly, I make my way down the stairs to the basement door. Then, I sneak downstairs where Hudson stays. The glow from the television illuminates the space. He’s not sitting on the sofa but on the floor near some boxes we brought from our old house. His brows are furrowed together and his shoulders are hunched.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper as I rush over to him and kneel next to him.
He’s holding Mom’s baseball T-shirt that says: Hudson’s #1 Fan.
“I let her down,” he murmurs. He turns his head to regard me and his features are twisted in pain.
“She was always so proud of you.” I hug him and kiss the side of his neck. “She’d still be so proud of you. You’re more than baseball, Hudson. You’re everything to me.”
He drops the shirt to run his fingers into my hair. I’m dragged to his lips and he kisses me hard. Our tongues duel for control. He wins. He always wins. I moan against his lips but then he’s pulling away all too soon.
“I found something Mom would have wanted you to have,” he says as he pulls out a rectangular wooden box.
“Her haircutting scissors.” I pluck the box from his hand and open it. The metal glimmers in the light of the television. “Do you remember how pissed Dad was when she bought these?”
“They were nine hundred dollars,” he says with a chuckle. “I thought Dad was going to shit a brick.”
I smile. “You going to let me practice on your hair?”
His eyebrow arches up playfully, the sad moment long gone. “Are you going to do a good job?” He pulls the box away and sets it onto the carpet beside him. “Or are you going to give me a bowl cut like Mom did when I was in kindergarten? Thank fuck she went to beauty school and learned later what not to do. That was awful.”
I swat at him. “Yes, jerk. I’m going to do a good job.”
He grips my wrist and tackles me. A giggle escapes me before his hand covers my mouth to keep me quiet. His body is heavy pressed against mine. I can feel every part of him. My thin T-shirt and panties allow me to enjoy every muscle on him. His cock is hard between us and I try to wriggle to get him to rub it against my clit.
“You’re a dirty girl, hmmm?” he asks as he slowly grinds against me.