by Cindi Madsen
He caught my hand. “That’s not true. You sparked my interest from the beginning, and every minute I spent with you made me want to know more. Even when you were telling me what a jerk I was, I couldn’t get enough of you. I wish I could take back that bet. That jersey used to be my most prized possession—a symbol of everything I hoped to be someday—but I can’t even look at it anymore. I don’t want it. I want you.”
My heart squeezed tighter, so tight that I didn’t think it would ever be able to function properly again. “I don’t know which parts were real.”
He placed my hand over his heart. “What I feel for you is real. Me standing here and begging you for another chance, that’s real. Those stories I told you about how I grew up, when I told you that you were perfect… I had no idea when I met you that you’d change everything. You remember how you worried about being too needy?”
I slowly nodded.
“This past week has been awful. I wanted to call you every hour and leave messages and text you when I thought of something only you’d get, and I wanted to show up wherever you were. I wanted to spy on you and find out if you were seeing anyone—and if you were, I knew I’d lose my shit and make a huge scene. All those girls I thought were crazy and clingy? Now I get it.
“What I’m saying is, I’m the needy one here. I want to see you day and night, and when I can’t, I’ll be thinking of the next time we can be together. I realized that when you love someone, you show up when they need you, because you need them right back. And I’m in love with you, Whitney Porter. That’s the realest, truest thing I’ve ever known.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Do you love me?”
Tears lodged in my throat. “It’s more complicated than—”
“No, it’s not.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “Yes or no?” He swallowed, vulnerability showing through his features. No more player mask, the heart of gold that beat in his chest fully exposed, and he’d basically offered me the key.
I lost the battle to hold back my tears. “Yes.”
His relief was so vivid that I felt it in the air between us. “Let me start over, then. Please. We’ve got the whole rink to ourselves. I’ll take you out onto the ice, pretend it’s our first date, and when you slip, I’ll catch you.” He reached up and cupped my cheek. “Our faces will inevitably drift closer, and then I’ll kiss you, the way I’ve wanted to since the second you showed up.”
I shook my head and the worry rose back into his features. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”
Hudson slid the hand on my cheek behind my head, his fingers threading into my hair, and then he crashed his mouth over mine. His other arm slid between my coat and my shirt, securing me to him so tightly that I could feel the hard planes of muscle beneath his thin jacket.
Desire and affection swirled through me as he deepened the kiss, combating the cold better than layers of fabric ever could.
“I promise I’ll never hurt you like that again,” he whispered against my lips. “I’ll make us work, no matter what it takes.”
“Okay,” I said. “Me, too.” I’d thought it would be impossible to repair the damage we’d done to each other, but with his arms around me, anything felt possible, and the fact of the matter was, I did need him right back.
He tugged me toward the rink’s entrance, where two pairs of skates waited. I slipped mine on and cautiously stepped onto the ice. Hudson stayed by my side, his hand coming up to my elbow to steady me when I wobbled.
Once I’d regained my footing, he took my hand, lacing my gloved fingers with his bare ones. I pushed off, skating toward the center of the rink. “How’d you get this place all to yourself?”
“Didn’t you hear? Athletes get special perks.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling.
“The rink doesn’t open for two more days, but I called in a favor. The owner was happy to help out a player on the Boston College team. Not so happy about the tree, but Beck talked him into it—or most likely paid enough that he would let it slide. If someone had filmed us trying to decorate it, it’d probably go viral. We suck at decorating.”
I glanced back at the tree. “I don’t know. I kind of love it—especially the floppy star.” The toe of my skate caught a rough spot of ice and I stutter-stepped. Hudson slid in front of me and his hands came up on my hips, keeping me from taking a spill.
“I’m happy to hear that, because it’s coming home with me tonight, and I’m planning on taking you home with me, too.”
Anticipation zinged through me, but I did my best to gasp and act scandalized. “Well, if this is a first date, that seems awfully forward of you.”
He grinned his devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m an awfully forward guy, especially when it comes to getting what I want.”
I gripped the sleeves of his jacket—trying to look like a worthy opponent while the slippery ice did its best to thwart my sense of balance. “I’m currently debating how strongly I should disagree.”
“I’d say very strongly. I like a challenge.” He slid his hands around my back and hooked them there. “Before I forget to tell you, I liked your article.”
“You did?”
“Fair. Balanced. I’m proud of you.” His pulled me tighter against him. “I want to get my symbiotic on.”
“Lyla informed me that it should really be mutualistic, because symbiotic doesn’t necessarily mean both parties benefit. Sometimes it’s just the parasites, but I thought that with modern terminology, people would get it and—”
He cut off the rest of my words with a kiss, running his tongue along the seam of my lips and rendering me incapable of speech and thought. “There’s my brainiac,” he said, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. “God, I missed you.”
He kissed me again, deeper, like he was trying to memorize every inch of my mouth. His hands slid down to my butt. I thought he was just copping a feel, and I’m sure that was part of it, but the next thing I knew, he’d boosted me in his arms.
The momentum made him slide backward, and I threw my arms around his neck. “We’re gonna fall!”
Hudson laughed and then kissed me again, adding a spin that made me tighten my arms and wrap my legs around his waist.
Then I was the one laughing. Once I realized that he could probably skate around blindfolded and never fall, I took control of the kiss, swirling my tongue around his and then gently biting on his lip. He groaned and spun us around again, and I got lost in the euphoric free-falling sensation.
By the time we came up for air, both of us were breathing hard.
“My place?” he asked.
“I just need to tell you something first.” When he’d asked if I loved him, I’d answered yes, because with how much I loved him, there really wasn’t any other way to answer. But I wanted to say it, and for him to truly hear and understand, so that we wouldn’t start this next part of our relationship with any misunderstandings or words that needed to be said.
I ran my hand down his beard, anticipating the moment I could do it without gloves in the way—when I’d feel the scrape of it on my skin as he expertly kissed his way down my body.
I got a little lost in the lust haze for a second and then found my way back to shore, where Hudson was staring at me like I was his whole world and the next words I spoke might make or break him. “I love you, Hudson Decker.”
A devastatingly handsome grin spread across his lips. “I love you too, Reporter Girl.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Hudson
When I walked into my bedroom, my jaw dropped to the floor, and so did the hockey gear I had in my hands.
Whitney was sitting against my headboard, wearing one of my jerseys and—if I wasn’t mistaken from the way it hung low in front, making it clear she didn’t have on a bra, and the gathered fabric at her thighs showing off a whole lot of bare leg—nothing else.
She gave me a siren smile and added a come-hither finger. “You said you needed me.”
The second t
he bus had pulled into Boston, I’d texted that I needed to see her at my place ASAP. Thanks to our away game, where we’d played UConn both Friday and Saturday night, it’d been four long days since we’d seen each other, and after being apart for Thanksgiving break the week before, it seemed especially unfair. That text was just one of many, many texts I’d sent while I was out of town, not to mention the hour-long phone call after our win on Friday. Each time I’d talked to her had made me wish for time to go by even faster.
I locked my door, kicked off my shoes, and started on my tie. She scooted to the end of the bed and I got the confirmation that she wasn’t, in fact, wearing any underwear.
My hard-on strained against the zipper of my slacks.
She reached up and removed my fumbling hands from my tie. Then she grabbed on to the end of the fabric and yanked me down so that my face was level with hers. “That’s my job, undressing you.”
I braced my hands on either side of her thighs and kissed the lips I’d been dreaming about for days. I didn’t care if it made me whipped or sappy, because she made me happier than I’d ever been before.
“I like it when you’re all dressed up,” she said. “Usually you change before you come home.”
“It was Coach’s punishment for ‘not acting like gentlemen’ on the drive there.”
She clicked her tongue. “Bad, bad boy.”
My blood fired hotter as she slid the tie free and went to work on the buttons of my shirt. When I reached out to slide my hand up her bare thigh, she smacked my hand. “Wait your turn.”
“Bad boys don’t really wait,” I said, then I dove on top of her, happiness tumbling through me as she shrieked. “And I’m going to punish you for trying to make me. We’ll see how you like waiting.”
I slid a finger inside her, covering her mouth with mine as she gasped, and then I slowly withdrew, dragging my fingertip up the center of her body before taking it away.
“Mean,” she whimpered. Then we had the best tug-of-war ever. She’d remove an article of clothing and tease me until I was on the edge and totally out of my mind and then I’d give her the same treatment. By the end, our mouths had explored every inch of each other’s bodies. Only then did we give in and have frantic, mind-blowing sex, putting all of our days and hours of missing each other into it.
Careful to not crush her, I leaned over her and kissed her swollen lips. Then I maneuvered so that I could rest my head on her stomach and look up at her pretty face. Just like I hoped she would, she reached down and ran her fingers through my hair in that way that soothed and drove me crazy at the same time.
When I’d decided to do whatever it took to get her back, I had no idea that it would mean a long, extremely torturous Skype session with Dane’s sisters. I’d spilled my guts, told them everything Whitney and I had done together—okay, every PG thing Whitney and I had done together—and they’d helped me come up with the ice-skating plan and Christmas tree. It’d made me feel like an idiot—especially since I’d needed the team’s help to pull it off—but right now I was glad that I’d given it all I had.
Whitney was also why I’d worked harder than I’d ever worked in my life at school. She deserved a guy who had it together, and she’d helped convince me that I not only deserved to be here, but that I was smart enough to earn whatever degree I wanted. Now I regularly met with a tutor who was helping me through my statistics class, and while it meant more study hours and less sleep, the material became a bit clearer day-by-day.
By the end of the school year, I’d need to decide which career path I’d put more effort toward, but either way, I planned on opening a sports center in my old neighborhood, for kids who needed a safe place after school. I’d told Whitney about it, and she’d given me great ideas about ways to reach out to people in the community, as well as how to get in touch with the press, who’d hopefully cover it and help spread the word.
Her unfailing belief in me, and her promise to stay by my side every step of the way, opened up a new realm of possibilities, ones I couldn’t wait to explore with her.
“So, did you see your mom?” Whitney asked. I knew it’d come up eventually—I actually gave her credit for holding back on asking about it for so long.
“She came to Saturday night’s game,” I said.
“Do I have to play twenty questions or are you going to tell me what happened?”
“I was thinking more of a sexual favor bartering system.”
She stopped running her fingers through my hair and shot me a death glare.
“Fine, you win,” I said. “It went pretty well, actually.”
Whitney was the one who suggested a meeting on neutral ground. Connecticut was about halfway between here and New York, with a little more driving on Mom’s end. I didn’t think she’d go for it, but she had. She’d driven up for the Saturday night game and we’d had dinner afterward. “She looked good. Sober and happy.”
“And she didn’t bring…?”
“No. She actually listened for once.” I’d thought she might bombard me with Raymond, but she’d respected my wishes. Of course he came up in conversation, and she wanted to know if I’d be at the wedding over Christmas break, and if I’d walk her down the aisle. “I thought a lot about what you said, how you worried I’d regret not going to the wedding. I know it’s hypocritical to not give the guy a second chance, since I needed one from you—”
“Totally different,” Whitney said. “You never abused me. That said…I’m not totally opposed to chances. If that’s what you want to give him.”
My gut tightened, the words I wanted to speak harder than they were supposed to be now that the moment of truth was here. “I… She’s going through with it whether I agree or not, and I want her to be happy, so I’m going to try.”
I lifted Whitney’s hand and intertwined our fingers. “Will you go with me? To the wedding? I think it’s the only way I’ll survive. We can take a few days to check out New York. I’ll take you to the real Rockefeller Center, and even Times Square and the Statue of Liberty. Every type of museum you can imagine. I’ll let you recite facts to me, ad nauseam. I know you planned on going home to see your dad, but even if it’s just a few days—”
“Yes.” She placed her hand on the side of my face, leaned down, and gave me a peck on the lips. “I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you, baby.” When I noticed her goose bumps, I sat up, pulled her into my arms, and covered us up with the blanket.
Whitney glanced over her shoulder at me, the moonlight filtering through the bedroom window glinting off her blue, blue eyes. “In the name of honesty, I should probably tell you that I had a friend look into Raymond. His record has been clean for the year he’s been out of rehab, and he did complete an anger management course, so at least that’s a good sign.”
“You had Will look into him?”
“Off the record. Yes.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t help it. Since he hurt the guy I love, I get to cross ethical boundaries.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded and I kissed her bare shoulder, soaking in the feel of her soft skin and inhaling her scent. “Anything else you need to confess?”
“There is something that I’ve been wondering if I should mention,” she said, and I froze, not sure if I was going to like this thing, and wondering if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “Do you remember that hockey party? The one at the Quad to celebrate the start of the season?”
“Barely. I was pretty drunk.”
She laughed. “Oh, I know. You hit on me that night.”
“I did?” Suddenly I worried about the rest. “My mom had just dropped the bomb about her and Raymond getting married. If I was an ass to you, I’m so sorry.”
“Actually, I was the mean one that night. I…” She traced the tattooed lines on my forearm. “Well, keep in mind you were staring at my butt way more than my face…”
That didn’t come as a shock, as she had the sexiest ass I’d ever laid eyes on.
&nb
sp; “…and I could tell you thought you were the shit. So when you asked if I wanted a drink, I…” She grimaced. “I told you that the amount of alcohol it’d take for me to sleep with you would actually kill me.”
I chuckled. “You know, I have a vague recollection of that.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I’m serious. All I really remember is that the prettiest girl I’d ever seen shut me down, and I think I laughed, and she got pissed and stormed off.” I moved my lips right under her ear and pressed a kiss there. “You know what that proves, right?”
“That you shouldn’t drink so much at parties?”
“Probably. But I’m about to wax poetic here, so shhh.” I wrapped my arm tighter around her waist, basking in the feel of her silky skin and curves pressed against me. “It proves that I knew you and I were meant to be from the first moment I saw you.”
She turned her head and brushed her lips against my cheek. “I thought you were going to stop with the lines.”
“Never.” Shortly after we’d gotten back together, and after some convincing on my part, she showed me her entire “Anatomy of a Player” article, reminding me that she didn’t really know me when she’d started it. While some of the points made me sound a bit like a jackass—which I’d been to girls plenty of times before—most of it made me laugh. Besides, some of those moves, as well her deciding to use me for her player case study, had landed her right here in my arms, so I called it a win.
I’d finally convinced her to submit it to a few magazines and websites and see what happened. I wanted to support her future any way I could, the way she was supporting mine.
My life had always been a storm, and maybe it always would be, but with Whitney to anchor and calm me, I knew I could deal with anything. I never thought I’d need anyone the way I needed her, but I did, and instead of making me feel weak, it made me stronger. Motivated me. Pretty much it was amazing all around, and the best thing that had ever happened to me.
