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The bar we were at is only a few minutes from the house, and we ride in a comfortable, slightly tense silence until I reach out and connect his Bluetooth so I can connect my phone.
If we’re going to sit in silence, I might as well grace him with my impeccable taste in music.
I quickly choose a song from my playlist, crank it up, then wait.
A few minutes later, Harry, my one true love, floats through the speakers, and a deep, rumbly growl erupts from my Romeo’s chest.
“Why am I not surprised that you’re a Harry Styles fan?” he mutters, his distaste obvious.
Ignoring him, I turn it up louder and begin singing along loudly, just to annoy him. Halfway through, his scowl lessens, and I see a grin trying to lift the corners of his lips.
I’m great at a lot of things, including my unwavering love for Mr. Styles, but a singer I am not.
“Take a left here. The big white house to the right.”
He looks confused for a second, and then his gaze whips to me. “This is sorority row.”
“Acute observation, Romeo. Yes, it is.”
“Please, for the love of all things fucking holy, tell me you are not in a sorority, Caroline.”
An amused smile flits to my lips, and I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Beta Pi.”
The second he pulls to a stop in an empty street spot, his forehead hits the steering wheel, and he groans. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not only did I fuck the coach’s daughter, who’s in fuckingcollege,I fucked a sorority girl… who can’t even legally drink. Do you realize how fucked-up that makes me?”
I shrug. “Those are your morals, not mine. I’m sleeping perfectly fine at night after fucking an old fart.”
He picks his head up and narrows his gaze, a scowl taking over. “I don’t remember you having this mouth on you the night we met.”
“And like I told you in the locker room, I don’t remember much about that night. Well, anythingmemorable, that is.”
A growl—I swear to god, an actual fuckinggrowl—echoes around the truck as he unbuckles my seat belt and pulls me into his lap before I can even blink. The man tosses me around like a damn rag doll, and I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.
“Hudson!” I squeak when my legs fit to the sides of his hips, and my hands fist into his T-shirt. I glance out of the window, worried that one of my sisters will see me being manhandled by a hockey player. “What if someone sees? I—”
He silences me with his lips, soft yet firm, and I moan into his waiting mouth.
“Windows are tinted,” he says when he pulls back, his fingers lacing into my hair. “Just let me kiss you, Caroline. I’ve spent the last few weeks around you being fucking tortured. Smelling how goddamn sweet you smell, watching you bend over to lace your skates with your ass perched high in the air. I’m a tortured man, Juliet. Put me out of my misery.”
I can’t help it—I giggle, which only makes his gaze narrow.
“That funny to you?” he rasps, leaning in and brushing his fingers along my jaw as he tugs at the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me to him slightly.
“It’s dangerous,” I tell him. My lips hover over his, merely centimeters apart. “Stupid. Reckless.” Leaning in, I press them ever so lightly to his. “You could lose your hockey career, Romeo.”
He sighs, then reaches to brush back my hair that’s cascaded around us off my face. “Then we don’t get caught.”
His words make me pause. Surely, this is not the man who all but lost his shit in the arena’s locker room about how we could never see each other again because he was so worried that his career was at stake.
“Why? You said this was done. Why are you still here, Hudson?” I ask quietly.
“Because I can’t fucking stay away.”
* * *
Thankfully,my class load is so full on Mondays that I hardly have a chance to stop, let alone think about Hudson and his ginormous dick, not that he would let me forget, even if I tried.
“I think I might have taken on too many classes,” I groan to Tatum as I drop my backpack onto the floor next to my bed, then crawl underneath the covers.
