The Impact of Intimacy

Chapter Twenty-Two - Salty

The next morning, I woke with a start. The air inside of Gran and Pops house, my house, was thicker somehow. Like a terrible hangover, I dragged my feet as I trudged out of bed and across the worn carpet to the en-suite bathroom. The chipping white counter tops never once bothered me before, but this morning they were an eye sore. A decrepid representation of my life. Everything was familiar, but was also falling apart.

Around the time I shoved my hairbrush into my wayward curls, I heard a series of slams and bangs and curses coming from the small retro kitchen. I hadn't slept here alone. Hudson Kincaid. 

The past twenty four hours passed in a movie-like montage in front of my eyes. Hudson at the hospital, Hudson propositioning me at the nurses station, Hudson eating my ice cream, Hudson inviting himself into my Bridgerton marathon. Hudson making himself vulnerable, falling asleep in Hudson's arms, waking up in Hudson's arms, allowing Hudson to stay on my couch. Hudson, Hudson, Hudson. 

I shoved my electronic toothbrush into my mouth and as it beeped to move to another area, I paced my room. I shouldn't have let him stay. It was stupid. He broke my heart all those years ago like it was nothing. But when he looked at me with those big blue eyes, with so much sincere insecurity, I couldn't say no. I just couldn't.

I swished my mouth an extra time and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, eyeing it from more than a few angles before I picked up my tightest black yoga pants, the ones that showed off my ass best, and a cute-but-baggy cream crop top sweater. I stood before my mirror, feeling like the same insecure girl I'd sworn off eight years ago. After Gran died, and I dropped out of college, and lost my scholarship. I'd been to hell, and I'd made it out. One guy from my past wasn't going to disrupt all the progress I'd made. He just...wasn't. 

On a fresh wave of female empowerment, I ripped my bedroom door open and strutted down the hallway toward the incessant banging, hands on my hips. "You need to leave." I announced, my mouth set in a tight line, despite how utter ridiculous Hudson looked. He stood hunched over the original terracotta stove, flipping bacon, with Gran's flying pigs tea towel slung over one broad tattoo'd shoulder.

 "It's not done yet." He motioned toward the bacon, but my traitorous mind wanted to read more into that. This was precisely why he needed to leave. Hudson Kincaid made me an irrational mess, and I hated feeling out of control. 

"I don't care." I flipped off the switch on the stove, my chest touching his. Which was a really very bad idea. My stomach grumbled at the smell of the bacon, and even lower something began to pool. Something I hadn't felt in a very long time. Arousal. Thick and heady, surrounded by Hudson's musk that was so...him. Like honeysuckle and mint, and the ocean somehow in the middle of the Texas Panhandle. 

"You need to leave." I crossed my arms to hide my traitorous nipples that were fully erect and begging for his attention. Ever perceptive, his eyes caught everything, glued to my chest as his left hand white-knuckled the tongs there. "Did you hear me?" I asked again, but my mouth felt like it was flooding with saliva. Like I was starving...and it wasn't the fucking bacon.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes?" God, why did that sound like a question?! "Yes." I said more firmly, and my hands found my hips again, my nipples pressing through the material. Shit.

Hudson leaned in close, and I licked my lips in response. Holy fuck. He looked like he was going to kiss me...did I even want that?! God yes! My body practically screamed against every other rational thought. Before my subconscious could decide, Hudson ducked his head and his lips found my ear instead. "You might want to put on a bra the next time you want to sound convincing." 

I jerked back, scowling and covering my chest again. "Asshole!"

"Relax." He flipped back on the burner and proceeded to cook the bacon like he was right at home. "It's just breakfast. I know you're hungry. I ate all your ice cream last night." 

"Don't think this gets you from buying me another carton. Today!" I demanded and he chuckled as he flipped another slice of bacon.

"If you wanted to see me again later, you could've just asked." 

"You're insufferable." I huffed, flinging myself into one of our cream rattan bar stools. Gran had bought them at a garage sale in Amarillo three months before her death, and they were one of the things that made me feel most connected to her. She'd wanted to fix the place up a little before she died, and these stools were the first item towards her goal. She just never quite made it. I looked sadly at all the other mustard and avocado colored furniture that looked like it belonged in the seventies when it was originally purchased. I didn't know any other twenty-nine year olds with quite the same digs. 

"And you're hot when you're bossy." Hudson said abruptly, flipping off the heat source, and I rolled my eyes as much cheeks flushed.

"The plates are..."

"I remember." He grinned as he cut me off, reaching into the third upper cabinet on the left. I nodded awkwardly as he plated up scrambled eggs, bacon, and a cinnamon roll. A spread for far more than two people. 

"I usually don't eat this much for breakfast." I shifted in my barstool, thinking of the single protein bar and cup of black coffee that usually sustained me. My life wasn't about enjoying food these days, it was about what I physically needed before rushing to my next shift. 

"Well, I guess this morning you're lucky I'm here to feed you." His grin was cocky, and I wanted to put him in his place, but the bite of bacon in my hand blasted me to heaven and beyond. 

"Mmmmmm." I closed my eyes, feeling closer to an orgasm than I'd ever been with Dr. Todd. "Holy shit. That's so good." I licked my lower lip, loving the salty taste that lingered, and my eyes slowly opened to where Hudson was leaned so far forward he'd almost tipped off his barstool. I licked my lips again and smiled as he shifted painfully to adjust himself. He was hard. I don't know why I got such immense pleasure from his obvious discomfort. 

I took a page out of his playbook, leaning forward until my lips were pressed right against his ear. "You're drooling all over your eggs." I rasped before leaning back and taking a violent bite out of my bacon. Hudson might have the same level of sex appeal as he did ten years ago, but I had something now I didn't have back then. Confidence.