Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Then make me get it.” He tilts his head. “What do you need?”
“Distraction,” I say too quickly. “Just . . . something. Anything.”
Hudson hesitates for a second, his brow furrowing. “Anything, huh?”
Before I can react, he pulls me into his arms.
I want to push away, to protest, but with my head against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. Its steady rhythm calms me.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. Hudson dips his head, and his lips brush against mine with just enough pressure to make it obvious he’s waiting to see how I’ll react. On instinct, I freeze for a beat.
“What are you doing?” I whisper against his mouth.
“Distracting you.” His voice sounds rough. His lips hover over mine, so close that I can feel the heat radiating from him. “Unless you want me to stop?”
My breath hitches in my chest, and adrenaline surges through my veins.
“You’re an idiot,” I mutter, but I’m crazy enough that I don’t pull away.
“Probably,” he agrees. Then he kisses me again, harder this time, like he’s claiming something.
His hands slide up to cup my face, rough palms anchoring me to the here and now.
Not letting me get lost in the storm raging outside.
I clutch the front of his damp shirt. Despite some wet spots the soft cotton is still warm under my touch.
The kiss grounds me.
His lips are firm yet gentle, a perfect balance that steadies me.
Everything fades away.
I forget the storm. Forget where I am. Forget myself.
The world stops on its axis.
It narrows to this singular moment…
His mouth on mine, the taste of rain lingering on his lips, the way his hand cups the back of my neck like he’s afraid I might disappear.
I lean into him.
I need this.
Need him.
I don’t want to think about the storm, the mistakes, the fears. Not right now.
But then, just as quickly as the moment takes over, a flicker of doubt creeps in.
What happens when this ends? When the storm passes? The thought makes my stomach twist, but I shove it aside.
Not now. Not yet.
For now, I let myself sink deeper into the kiss, clinging to him like he’s the calm in the middle of my storm.
For now, I let myself feel. For now, I let myself forget.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
I stare at him. “That was—”
“Effective?” he answers for me, his lips quirking into a cocky grin.
I push him back. “A mistake.”
My cheeks feel flushed, and I’m happy for the darkness.
He chuckles. Smug bastard.
“Sure, Molly. Keep telling yourself that.”
8
Hudson
Well, fuck.
I don’t know what that was, but I want it again.
Twenty-four hours a day.
But this isn’t the time or place.
“Come on.” I brush damp strands of hair from Molly’s face. “You should sit.”
She nods and pulls back, her movements stiff. “Okay. Where?”
I shrug off my jacket, shake off the droplets clinging to the nylon material, and spread it on the floor. “Here.”
Molly hesitates, glancing at the filthy floor barely covered by my jacket.
She bites her lip. “Hudson, it’s fine. I don’t need—”
“Molly.” I soften my voice as I gently guide her toward the makeshift seat. “Just sit. You’re shaking.”
She slinks down, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
I start to step away. “I’ll be right back.”
Her head snaps up, her wide eyes locking on mine. “Where are you going?”
“To look for stuff,” I reply, scanning the dimly lit aisles.
“Stuff?” She scrunches her nose. “Vague much.”
“Yeah, well, I might not find anything, so it’s best to be vague. I’m just looking for anything I can find.” My answer sucks, but it’s the truth. Who knows if I’ll find anything useful, so I don’t want to give her false hope.
I take a few steps and spot a flashlight on a nearby shelf.
Bingo.
If this works, I won’t have to drain my phone’s battery.
I carry it over to her and place it in her outstretched palm.
Molly turns it over, trying to switch it on, but it doesn’t work. Well, that sucks, and now I look like an idiot.
She moves to hand it back, but I shake my head. “Keep it. You don’t know if you’ll need it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why would I need a dead flashlight?”
“For protection,” I reply with a shrug.
She hugs the flashlight to her chest. “Um. From who?”
“I don’t know. Maybe an animal.”
Her lips twitch, and she wants to laugh. “You think that if a wolf breaks in, I’ll be able to use this?”
My lips tip into a smirk. “You never know. He could be a very hungry one.”
Molly laughs. It sounds shaky, like she can’t help but do it, but she’s still afraid. “So, now, I have to worry about a wolf, a tornado, and let’s be real, this place is straight out of a serial killer movie. So yeah . . . that, too.”
“Yep. Have fun with that.”