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)
Rolling my eyes, I shove him away from me. “Why do you care?”
He stalks forward and pulls me to him against his solid chest. “Because I do.”
I melt against him and wrap my arms around his middle. He hugs me so tight I wonder if he’ll crush my ribs. I like it. I like being suffocated by him. His grip relaxes and he rubs my back.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Aunt Becky didn’t really call. That music was just shitty and I was so fucking over it.”
I laugh as he pulls away and grabs my hand. We link fingers. He guides me between cars until we reach a park. It’s dark, but the moon shines down on the playground equipment, giving it a haunted quality.
“Do you remember when you ran away?” I ask him, a giggle tumbling from me.
He flashes me a boyish grin that makes my stomach clench. “I was mad.”
“You struck out.”
“And, at the time, it was the end of the world.”
“Mom was so worried, but I knew where you’d go,” I tell him with a smile.
He guides me to the swing set and we both sit down.
“When I saw you, I thought you were there to rat me out,” he admits. “But…”
“I was running away too.” My voice is cheerful. I remember I packed my little Barbie backpack and filled it with snacks Hudson likes. When Mom was fretting, I snuck away to go find my brother.
“I was mad at first, but then I was happy you were there because I was fucking hungry,” he says. “And bored.”
I push off on the swing. The wind from the movement makes my dress fly up. A shiver ripples through me. Hudson doesn’t move, simply rocks a little in his swing. Pumping harder and harder, I try to see how high I can go. This used to be a game I’d play with myself when I was younger—to see if I could flip all the way around. I never could.
Hudson gets up and walks the perimeter of the playground, his eyes never leaving me. I watch as he climbs the playset like he’s a monkey. He disappears inside the tower. When I’m as high as I think I’ll go, I jump off the swing and land with a thud. Then, I run after him. I climb to the top and find him sitting with his back against the wood railing. The space is small, but there’s enough room for me to sit next to him.
“Rylie?”
“Yeah?”
“My head hurts.”
I frown and turn to look at him. “Are you sick?”
His intense green eyes bore into mine. “Very.”
“Do you need medicine?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry.”
His hand finds mine and he threads his fingers with mine. “I’m not.”
My heart races at his words. “Travis is just some kid from my class. You don’t have to…” Be jealous. “Worry.”
“I need help,” he murmurs. “Advice.”
I turn my body and sit cross-legged facing him. “I can try.”
His eyes roam from my eyes to my lips to my throat. Then, he rakes them down the rest of my body until they land on our hands. Mine covers his and his has settled on my bare thigh.
“I’m worried about me and Amy,” he murmurs. “I think we need a break.”
I let out a ragged breath. “How come?”
“I’m too distracted.”
“By what?”
“You.”
Heat prickles across my skin and I bite on my bottom lip. Embarrassment floods through me, but it’s mixed with delight.
“You’re smiling,” he says and he smiles too. “You’re happy.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
He smirks. “So what do I do about it?”
“I don’t know.” I shiver. It’s not cold, but my nerves are alive.
“Come here,” he growls.
I sit up and slide into his lap, straddling him. I wait for him to tell me I’m sitting on him in an inappropriate way, but he rests his hands on my lower back and smiles at me. Our eyes are locked, but neither of us speaks. He’s hard beneath me. My brother’s cock is hard because of me. It makes me want to rub against him, but I’m too shy. I don’t have the nerve to do it even though I desperately want to.
“Still cold?” he rumbles.
“Kinda,” I lie.
I lean forward against his chest and inhale his flesh on his neck. His palms slide to my ass and he pulls me closer. My breath hitches when I rub against his erection through his jeans. He doesn’t take his hands off my butt.
“Hudson,” I whisper. I want to ask him what’s happening. Ask him why I like it so much. If I didn’t fear his rejection, I’d ask him if he wants it too.
He pulls me to him again, his fingers digging into my ass. Another mewl escapes me. I rub my lips along his neck. The urge to lick him is overwhelming, but I refrain, just barely.