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)
“Mom would be so proud,” I murmur.
His nostrils flare and he looks away. “No, she’d tell me to get my head out of my ass and hit the damn ball.”
We both laugh because it’s true.
“And Dad would say, ‘Now, Lauren, he’s doing the best he can. Give the kid a break.’” Thoughts of my dad trying to calm my mom down flood through me and suddenly nothing is funny. A whine climbs up my throat.
“Shh,” Hudson murmurs as he pulls me against his chest.
He holds me tight as I soak his chest with tears.
“I miss them.”
“Me too.”
His palms rub my back in a comforting way. I’m immediately distracted from my emotions over my parents because my brother’s big, strong hands feel good against my bare skin.
“Come on,” he says, his voice husky. “Let’s get something to eat.”
I follow him out of the water and watch him efficiently lay out a blanket on the sand. Then, he digs around in the ice chest. He tosses me a bottle of water. I down half the bottle before closing it and sitting on the blanket. Lying back, I shield the sun with my arm and close my eyes.
“You need to eat something.” He sits beside me and water from his body drips onto mine.
“Later.”
He taps a grape to my lips. “Nope. Now.”
I accept the grape and find myself wanting another one. One by one, he alternates feeding us grapes. When he’s satisfied we’ve had enough, he gets up and stuffs them back in the ice chest.
“You’re burning.”
Tell me about it.
“I’m fine,” I murmur.
Something cold squirts across my abdomen and I squeal.
He grins at me. “You need sunscreen.” His smile falls as he begins rubbing in the sunscreen on my stomach.
“Hudson…”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
His palm rubs rigorously all over my stomach until he’s smeared it in. Twice his hand sweeps across my lower stomach and I let out a small moan. Thank God he ignores the embarrassing sounds coming from me. He continues his task and squirts more sunscreen out, this time into his hand. My shoulders get attention next. Then my neck. My collarbone.
“Will you do my back too?” I ask, desperate to have him keep touching me.
“Roll over.”
I lie down face first and squeal again when he squirts it on my back. But then his warm, powerful hands are spreading it around my back. His fingers dip along my sides and I shiver.
“This is in the way,” he tells me, his voice low, a near whisper.
He plucks the strings tied at the middle of my back and pulls them away. Then, he rubs me lazily and slowly. I’m sure the sunscreen is more than smeared in, but he doesn’t stop rubbing my back.
“This feels good,” I murmur.
“I know.”
“Want me to put some on you?” I ask.
He runs his fingertips down my spine. “I do.”
“Do you want to fix my swimsuit?”
A pause.
“Yeah.”
He ties it back and when I sit up on my knees to look at him, he has his back to me. I pick up the bottle of sunscreen and pour some into my hands. Running my hands over his muscled shoulders, I take my time rubbing it in. At first, he’s tense, but then he relaxes. We’re silent as I move around to his front. His legs are stretched out in front of him. Boldly, I straddle his thighs, facing him. Neither of us speaks or looks at the other. It’s as if we’re collectively holding our breaths. I focus on getting the sunscreen on him. His breath hitches when my fingers brush low on his stomach. Between us, I can tell he’s getting hard. I don’t want him to freak out and kill the moment, so I try to distract him.
“What will we do later this week?” I ask, chancing a glance at his face.
His jaw is clenched as his intense green eyes bore into mine. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to see Mom and Dad’s gravesite.”
“Of course,” he rumbles. His eyes drop to my lips and then he looks away. “We should get going. I want to find a better place to camp.”
As if I weigh nothing, he grips my hips and moves me out of his lap. My heart sinks until I notice his erection tenting his trunks that he’s trying desperately to hide from me.
Maybe it’s true.
Maybe he’s sick too.
Hudson
I’m losing my mind.
Quickly.
I feel like somewhere since my parents’ deaths, we crossed a line. We crossed a line that normal brothers and sisters don’t cross. A line we somehow skated over without realizing it.
Fuck.
I don’t know what to do. My mind reels and yet I can’t keep my eyes off her. Each laugh has me held hostage. Each smile I’m caught staring.
“There?” she asks, pointing to where some people are camping.
I’d rather not, but we’re running out of options. It’s getting dark and being on the river at night isn’t safe.