Authors: Skye Jordan
She dismissed the irony of that thought to her mental bank of things she'd write in her can't-make-this-stuff-up memoir one day.
Finding a wayward pair of flannel shorts under her bed, she yanked them on and went back out to the kitchen, only to find Hudson had plopped himself onto the couch.
Good Lord. Why did he have to go and sprawl out like that? Lia thought, averting her eyes upward as if in silent prayer. Hudson's current seating posture just made her imagine him pinned under her, spread eagle with her legs wrapped around his in a 'Saturday Night' wrestling move-so appropriately named. She exhaled a hot breath.
That's when she realized he hadn't had a pillow or anything to make his night comfortable. He'd stayed on her old couch while she'd been fifteen feet away. Bottomless.
Well, hell. That whole melting at the knees thing from the movies was apparently a real thing. Tamping down the girly swoon factor she felt for the first time ever, Lia sat down beside him and checked the growing bruise on his temple.
Ouch.
Bad night for her to have worn an anklet. She refrained from telling him that his bruising had a rather, um, pretty decorative qualities. There's no way she'd be able to pull that off without cracking a very ill-timed smile.
Books sold at all major retailers.
Author Violet Duke