With both hands working frantically through our urgent kissing, I unbutton the two top buttons of his shirt, smoothing my palms over his tight traps. I can’t help myself; when I feel how tight he is there, I massage.
He sighs into my mouth. “Frenchie. Always taking care of me. Damn, that feels good.”
I continue to massage his shoulders and look up at him, keeping my eyes trained on his while he sheds his shirt entirely until he’s down to a white tank undershirt.
I smile when I see the tank top. This is what I’m used to seeing from him. His tanned skin shining in the sun, his bare shoulders dotted in freckles.
“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t,” I said.
He winks. “Tonight was supposed to be all about you.”
I lean forward and trace my tongue across his top lip and then his bottom, running my hands over his chest.
“It still is, I’m having a blast.”
My thumbs tease out his nipples, which provokes a more savage growl from Hudson’s throat.
He leans away just enough to remove the tank top. That sight of him—his arms in the air, exposing every ridge of masculine arms, revealing his hard chest and manly stomach, makes me want to shuck all of my clothes immediately. I know what this man looks like without a shirt. We’ve spent enough time together at the beach. But in this context, the look of his rugged planes and ridges does all sorts of new things to my body.
My clothes feel so tight, so in the way, it’s to the point of frustration, and I lean away to rid myself of my shirt. Yes, even my bra. This is it. This is the first time my best friend has seen my bare breasts, and it’s nerve-wracking and exciting all at once. His eyelids hood at the sight of my nakedness from the waist up; he appears to be at a loss for words. All I know for sure is I need this. I need his skin on my skin.
Hudson reaches out to me across the sofa. I wait, letting myself feel the thrill in the moment of knowing this man wants me in the same way I want him.
He comes at me with the force of a cheetah, taut and ready, on the verge of snarling.
I want to kiss all that skin, grab it, wrap myself around him and ride him through the sofa.
Hudson hovers over me, caging me in with his firm, tanned arms, his floppy hair framing his face above me.
His chain necklace hangs down and swings in the air above me. I hook my finger in it and draw him in for a kiss.
He hesitates. “Wait a second. Before we go any further. Tell me, are you my girl, Frenchie?”
“Haven’t I always been?” I say, my voice trembling. “Through everything, you’re the only one who’s always been there for me. I think I always knew on some level.”
A wicked smile stretches across his face. “Right answer,” he says, and takes my mouth once again.
The pressure of all that body is almost too much for me to handle, but at the same time, I want more.
I wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer as we kiss.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be held down and kissed by this man—this sweet, strong, quiet man who is my best friend. Objectively, not necessarily that I’ve wanted him to do it.
And it’s better than I imagined. Hudson kisses a blazing path down the sensitive cords of my neck, traveling down my sternum. Never one to waste time when he’s hungry, my hard-working man takes possession of my breasts with his hands and his mouth. I can tell he’s being careful, but even so, his fingers and mouth are rough, in the most delightful, sinful way. Hudson has a way of making me feel so treasured I can barely contain my joy. And at that moment, with his lips and tongue worshiping my breasts, his hands exploring every curve, I don’t care if this ruins our friendship. This was bound to happen, and we’ll deal with the aftermath when the time comes.
“Frenchie,” he mumbles after adoring one nipple and moving on to the other one.
“Hudson,” I whisper.
All the sensations are blowing my mind. I had always thought making out with my best friend would result in a lot of self-conscious giggling and clumsiness. We’ve seen each other at our most sloppy, seen each other through a host of embarrassing situations, and yet maybe that’s what makes this so easy. And that much hotter.
He reaches down in between us and flicks open the button of my jeans with one move, then reaches in to take what’s his. What’s always been his. My panties give way to his big, calloused hand, the skin at the juncture of my thighs thrilling at the contact. By the time he finds my cleft, I’m ready to peel my jeans off completely. But before I do, his one thick finger nudges my clit.
My eyes go wide, and I gasp at the electricity this sets off through my body.
“Hudson!” I squeak.
“Okay?”
I nod my head.
Acknowledging my consent, he growls, “Get rid of these jeans. Now.”
I take zero seconds to do as he tells me, and my jeans and panties go flying across the room. We share a brief laugh when my clothes hit the wall, but then another large wave rocks the yacht, and Hudson and I tumble off the sofa.
Immediately he checks me over. “Are you hurt? Seasick?”
I shake my head and pull him on top of me on the floor of the cabin. This is how much I trust the man; I’m gonna let him rock my world while we’re on a boat, knowing he would do anything to make sure I’m
