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Verity sat up straighter and pushed her chest out until the buttons on her blouse strained. “I’m buzzed.”
“Why were you out for drinks with your boss? You hate him.”
“Because I want to know what’s in those damn packages, and because when I picked up one from your main office today, I saw you all cozied up to that cute little blonde.” Martinis were the worst kind of truth serum for Verity.
“You mean my other girlfriend?” The right side of Hudson’s mouth quirked up.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You should probably know, that cute little blonde is one of my half-sisters, and she’s thirteen. I was taking her out for lunch.”
Verity’s mouth opened to fire a snarky response, but the only thing that came was a quiet, cracked, “Oh.” The girl’s age would explain her questionable fashion choices.
“So back to clarifying…” Hudson cleared his throat. “If she’s my other girlfriend, what are you?”
Oh shit. It was a trap. She’d baited it herself. Verity folded her legs under her and pushed up, forgetting about the ankle she’d rolled. She yelped and fell forward, face-planting into Hudson’s chest and knocking them both off balance. He landed on his ass, and she landed on top of him. It would have been the perfect position under different circumstances.
She blew her hair out of her face and struggled to get up. “I’m just the girl you’re stalking.”
Hudson wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her where she was. “I think you like me stalking you.”
Verity snorted a very unfeminine snort. “Well, you’re clearly a criminal, so of course you’d think that.”
“We’re back to that, are we? Don’t you think the stereotype is getting a little old?” The arm around her waist tightened. His eyes dropped from hers and focused on her chest pressed against his. “I don’t know if you know this, but this shirt is pretty much transparent. I can see your bra through it. And that’s a lot of cleavage you’ve got going on there.” He stuck a finger in it to demonstrate. “If I was your boyfriend, I don’t think I’d be all that happy that you wore it to work today. Especially paired with this skirt and knowing what a weirdo your boss is.” Hudson’s hand eased lower to her ass. He gave it a little squeeze.
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it?”
“Definitely a good thing.” Hudson squeezed harder and shifted under her. “Way better that I’m just stalking your fine ass.”
They stared at each other for a half-second before Verity yanked off his beanie, shoved her hands into his hat-head hair and plastered her mouth to his.
Hudson cupped the back of her head and rolled them over so he was on top. The seam at the back of Verity’s skirt gave way with a huge tear as she opened her legs so Hudson could fit himself between them. They dry-humped the living hell out of each other as they made out in the middle of her living room floor.
Verity grabbed the hem of his hoodie and yanked it up, pulling it over his head when there was a break in the kiss. His white T-shirt came with it. Under all those clothes was a seriously cut body covered in ink. She’d expected as much. It wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense to have hand and neck tattoos if the rest of the merchandise wasn’t going to be decorated the same way.
Verity ran her hands over his chest and down his abs.
“Badass enough for a stalker?” Hudson asked, that damn dimply smirk curving the corner of his mouth.
“You must be the king of badass stalkers.” Verity tried to pull him back down for another kiss—she was really starting to dig that tongue piercing—but Hudson sat back on his heels.
He untucked her shirt from her skirt. “I don’t think you’ll be wearing this shirt to work again.”
“It doesn’t have any buttons.” He grabbed the hem on either side and pulled. The buttons popped off, pinging against his ripped chest—seriously, all that biking did a body good. She didn’t even care that he’d ruined her sort-of slutty work shirt.
Verity thanked the gods of bra design for the little heart-shaped front clasp on the one she was wearing. She opened it and set the girls free. They were like homing devices for Hudson’s hands. He cupped them immediately, separating his fingers so her nipples peeked through.
Jesus. He really did look like a criminal with all that ink—an incredibly hot criminal who’d broken into her house. He even had a few scars littered across his chest and one on his arm to complete the criminal look. She wondered if there was a bullet wound scar somewhere.
Hudson ducked his head and sucked one of her happy nipples into his mouth. Verity moaned and arched as she fumbled around, searching for the buckle on his belt. Finding it, she freed the clasp and went for the button on his jeans. There wasn’t a zipper to make him easier to access. It was buttons all the way down. It was hard to concentrate while he continued the nipple sucking, but she finally managed to get them all undone.
Verity took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. She shoved her hand down his pants, praying she’d find something in there to match the rest of his hotness. He was commando, because of course—badass criminals don’t do underwear.
She wrapped her fingers around his shaft. “Thank God,” she muttered when her thumb and forefinger didn’t touch. Not even close, actually. Verity had small hands; if her fingers touched, it meant unfortunate things.
Hudson lifted his head. “Worried I wasn’t going to have a dick?”
Verity stroked the length, getting a feel for how much there was, until she hit something that didn’t feel like it belonged. She looked between them, but it was dark down there. She put a hand on his chest so she could check it out a little better.
“Is that a—” She brushed the steel with her thumb. Not only was Hudson sporting an beautiful cock, it was pierced. Thankfully it wasn’t tattooed. That would cross the badass line into really weird. She met Hudson’s amused gaze. “I want to know what that feels like.”
“Go ahead and touch it all you want.” Hudson’s mouth went slack as she stroked him a few times.
“No.” Verity licked her lips. “I mean I want to know what it feels like from the inside.”
Hudson grinned. “Should I assume you’re not talking about the inside of your mouth?”
Verity thought for less than a second. She could do the whole blow job thing another time. Besides, knowing her luck, she’s end up sucking the ball right off the piercing and that would result in a trip to the hospital—a place she was only slightly more interested in visiting than jail.
She’d been fantasizing about being pounded by Hudson since he’d stolen the cab with her in it. She shook her head. “Not the inside of my mouth.”
“Just to clarify, are you asking me to fuck you?”
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Synopsis and Purchase Link
His name is Hudson Fenn, and he’s frustratingly impossible to pin down. He works as a bike messenger, but has the manners of a prince—along with a strange tendency toward breaking and entering. As much as Verity knows he’s not her type, and likely to land her in jail, she can’t help but find her truest self when they’re together.
Can she be brave enough to give Hudson a real chance? Will he be bold enough to reveal the man beneath the ink, or will his secrecy doom their connection? Also, WTF is the deal with Verity’s boss? No less than thirteen of your favorite romance writers have teamed up to tell this sexy, wacky, snort-inducing tale. With them you’ll visit the world’s most irritating office, a VIP room of questionable cleanliness, and the fanciest apartment a bike messenger has ever inhabited, but you’ll still never see this ending coming.