Page 47 of The Wedding Fake
There were any number of raised-brow expressions Hudson could’ve made in that moment that would’ve made me feel naive and goofy, but to Hudson’s credit, he made none of them. Instead, he reached out, his hand cupping my neck and pulling me closer as he leaned his body across the gearshift. He tipped forward slightly so our foreheads touched before our lips could.
My eyelashes fluttered, waiting for Hud to say something, but he was quiet, closing his eyes and inhaling my air. My breathing mirrored his, and I relaxed into my seat, letting my eyes drift closed.
A beat passed, then a second and third, and with my eyes closed I grew aware of all my other senses. I cataloged each sensation—the hard plane of his skull where our foreheads met, the gentle swipe of his thumb—its texture rough—over my jaw, the noisy inhalations he made through his nose, and the quiet warmth of exhaled breath from his mouth. It smelled faintly of watermelon, and my lips curled into a smile. I was doing a terrible job not falling for my one-night stand, but I didn’t care right then, and I lifted my chin until our lips met. “Claire,” he moaned into my mouth, deepening the kiss, and I reached for his shoulders, desperately trying to pull him closer.
Hudson’s hand slid down my jaw to my neck and finally down to cup one breast, then he jerked back so quickly I couldn’t help but look down at myself as if I may find something amiss. “I’m sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle, hooking a finger under my chin and drawing my gaze back up. “It’s not you. It was the headlights.” Hudson nodded toward the car that had just driven past. “I assume you’d be mortified to be in a compromising situation when your parents pulled up.”
As a matter of fact, I could think of few things worse than being caught having sex on the street by my parents, a fact which seemed to fly right out of my mind every time Hudson kissed me. When his lips were on mine, sex anywhere and everywhere seemed like a good idea. “I read it’s important to do some deep stretching or yoga before attempting to have sex in a car,” I said, and Hudson barked out a laugh. “That’s what I read,” I repeated, feeling silly.
“I’m sure you did, and it’s probably right, I just can’t imagine going to that much trouble. Having sex in a car should be impulsive. If you have time for a yoga sesh, you probably have time to drive to a bed.”
His point was entirely reasonable. “I suppose that’s true,” I agreed. “The same article also suggested bringing extra toiletries and a change of clothes,” I acknowledged.
Hudson laughed again, unclicking his seatbelt. “How can someone engage in this level of planning, but fail to plan for a bed?”
Following suit, I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I don't know. I imagine they thought being in a car would be sexy.”
We both swung our doors open, stepping out into twilight. Hud regarded me over the roof. “I had sex in a car once, when I was nineteen. It was nowhere near as good as sex in a bed.”
I remained silent. I had never once had sex outside of a bed, and I had nothing to add to the conversation, other than that I did yoga, but it seemed like a stupid time to share this detail about my life, especially as Hudson was in the midst of sharing his far more elaborate sexual history.
Recognizing the awkward pause for what it was, Hudson shrugged a single shoulder. “Ready for some Tinder Swindler?”
I nodded, walking around the car to join him on the curb. Then Hudson knitted his fingers through mine and we walked to the front door.
Emily looked around the corner from the kitchen as Hudson and I stepped inside. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I thought you might be Mom and Dad.”
“They’re still at the party,” I replied. “We’re going to go watch The Tinder Swindler. Hudson’s never seen it.”
Emily brightened considerably. “Giuliana at work told me about that but I never saw it.”
I didn’t want to invite Emily, not because I anticipated mauling Hudson in my parents’ den, but because I didn’t need a witness to how painfully awkward I was sure to be. I’d already spent the last five minutes since Hudson and I had agreed to the movie idea trying to decide how I should sit on the couch. Should there be distance between us, or should we sit thigh-to-thigh? What about leaning against his chest?
“Would you like to join us?” Hudson asked, filling the silence.
Emily looked at me, then Hudson, then me again before putting up a hand and shaking her head. “Nope, I’m fine,” she answered hurriedly. “You two go. I’ll just…I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Em, it’s fine. Come watch,” I said, wishing Emily would stop babbling. It was making the whole thing impossibly more awkward.
“You sure?” Emily answered.
“Yep,” I said at the same moment Hudson responded, “Of course.” I looked up at him and he smiled back at me, the tiny squeeze to my hand a reminder that he was still wrapped up in me, if only a little bit.
The three of us walked into the den together and Emily plopped down in the recliner next to the couch. This left the couch for Hudson and me, but I still wasn’t sure how close I should get. Fortunately, I didn’t have to think too hard on the subject, because Hudson gave our entwined hands a little jerk right before he sat. I fell nearly into his lap as he let go, catching me and helping me to get settled against his body. He lifted an arm, resting it along the back of the couch, and I tried to get comfortable even as my brain was screaming about the way the pose stretched the cotton of his shirt tight against his muscular frame. “This good or you need more room?” he asked, which was such a gentle way of giving me a choice to move away and put more space between us that I felt emotion tighten my throat.
“This is nice,” I replied softly, my eyes darting to Emily, who was unnecessarily engrossed in the simple task of turning on the television. A trailer came up on the screen, Hudson’s hand slipped down to hold my shoulder, and I felt myself relax into his warm embrace.
“You guys want a coffee?” Tessa asked from her end of the couch. She’d seemed off since she’d come home with Mom and Dad an hour earlier, and I thought I should ask her about it, but now, with Hudson’s heart pumping solidly beneath my ear, was a bad time.
“I’m tired. I’m going to head up to bed,” Emily said, much to my relief.
“I’m sorry, Tess. I’m tired, too. Rain check?”
“Of course,” Tessa said, stretching her arms high overhead, “I guess I’ll just head home.”
I glanced over at Emily, who shrugged as she stood. “Night, you two.” There was a disturbing twinkle in my sister’s eye—some sort of acknowledgment that she knew what we were up to tonight.
“Have a good night,” Hudson said.