She bent over to check the bird in the oven, giving him one hell of a view of her ass. As he watched her body move, he felt himself begin to harden. And knew just how long it would take him to get her out of those pants and be buried deep inside her.
“Looks good.” Hudson grinned. When she straightened, he saw she wore a white chef’s apron, the string wound twice around her waist and knotted in the front. He owned an apron? Who knew.
“You think so?” Allie bent down and looked through the window once again, then popped back up.
His head cocked to the side. “Absolutely.” He moved toward her like a predator, his shoulders rolling with his stride.
“The turkey should be done right on time. The potatoes are done, the stuffing . . .” she ticked each item off with a finger “. . . rolls, cranberry sauce . . . from the can, as requested.” As if reading his mind, she started to back away from him, only to bump into the counter.
He stopped in front of her, his arms coming around her and settling on the small of her back, urging her closer.
“Hudson.” Allie tilted her head to the side at the same time his lips made contact with her neck. “There’s still so much to do.”
“Numerous things,” he said, his hands slipping under her sweater and smoothing up the sides of her ribcage. His cock hardened between them and he sealed his mouth over hers.
“I want you,” he murmured.
“You just had me just a few hours ago.”
“Wasn’t enough. I feel like I can’t breathe unless I’m inside you.” He covered her mouth with his once more and she melted into his kiss. As she leaned into him, the pressure increased against his cock and he groaned into her mouth. “Fuck.” He drew the word out, his pecs tightening as his fingers flexed against her skin. He would have moved into position lighting-fucking-fast, but sweet hell there wasn’t an inch of counter that wasn’t covered with kitchen appliances he didn’t even know he owned or have shit spilled on it from her sojourn into Martha Stewartdom.
His palm cupped her breast and kneaded it through the thin lace of her bra, his fingertips brushing over her nipple. Then his tongue slipped into her mouth, lazily fucking it, before sucking her bottom lip between his teeth.
“God, yes,” Allie breathed against his lips. The sound she let out was part hum of approval and part moan. Screw the counter action, the floor would work just fine. He wanted his mouth on her, his tongue thrusting up inside her so he could taste her slick sex. He needed her naked skin against his, her breath hot and pleading in his ear. She was right, it had only been a couple hours but that length of time was a goddamn killer, making him more aware of the heartbeat pounding at the head of his cock.
Just as he was going to prove to himself how fast he could have her out of her clothes and flat on her back with his face between her thighs, the dull ding of the private elevator sounded in the distance.
“Your brother is here,” Allie mumbled against his mouth.
Hudson growled before dropping a kiss on her mouth and adjusting the hard-on in his pants.
Nick cleared his throat. “Yo, dude, you have eighty rooms in this joint. Get one.”
Hudson flipped his brother the bird over Allie’s shoulder.
“Nice. Real Christmas spirit.” Nick chuckled. “Where’s the fuckin’ love?”
Allie started to laugh. If it wasn’t snowing like a bitch outside, Hudson would’ve tossed his brother out on his ass and made him wait while he made love to his woman in every-single-mother-fucking-room. Twice.
A sharp gust of wind rattled the windows. “Weather dude is predicting record snow and shit.” Nick shook out his jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch.
“What the hell, Nick? Get your wet coat off the couch.”
“Seriously? You going on all fancy schmancy on me?” Nick grabbed his jacket, stopping short at the sight of Allie’s version of Santa’s Village. “Holy shit.”
As expected, she really had overdone it. Hudson’s penthouse looked like one of the window displays at Macy’s on steroids. If there was free space she’d thrown garland and lights on it. Christ, there were enough tiny lightbulbs to land a 747 in his living room. But he knew her heart had been in the right place, and it gave her something to focus on besides it being the first holiday without her family. Plus, the expression on Nick’s face was priceless. Hudson hadn’t seen that look on him since they were kids. And seeing the two people he loved most in the world happy was all that mattered to him. Even if his house looked like Clark Griswold’s.
Allie had scored a winner. And in that moment he crashed even harder for her.
Nick’s eyes darted from the tree that rivaled the one standing front and center in the Walnut Room to the table set with red-and-white poinsettias and mosaic votives. The candles were lit, making the place smell like a potpourri of spices that sucked the coldness out of his highly stylized penthouse. It was the first time his place had felt like a home, and it had everything to do with the woman currently destroying his kitchen.
As if on cue, Allie appeared at Hudson’s side. He threw an arm around her shoulder, then kissed the crown of her head, watching as Nick zeroed in on the wooden pyramid. He reached out to give the thin wooden paddles a spin, but the moment his finger made contact the intricate contraption fell apart; angels fell from heaven, propellers hit the ground.
“Jesus Christ,” Hudson muttered under his breath. “Some things never change.”
Allie covered her mouth to hide her laugh as he strode over to the wooden carnage.
“I just wanted to make the little guys spin faster, dude.” Nick gathered the paddles that had flung in every direction while Hudson rescued a fallen angel from the ground.
“Does the concept of leaving shit alone ever enter your head?”
“Does chillin’ the fuck out ever enter yours?” Nick plugged one of the propellers into its designated hole, his hand hovering over the pyramid until he was sure it would stay put.
Hudson pushed Nick’s hand aside. “Give it to me.”
“Hey, leave the CEO at the office. I got it.” Nick popped another paddle into position, then another before wood took another trip to the ground. “Son of a bitch.”
“Move.” Hudson shoved Nick out of the way as his little brother played pick-up sticks.
“Have at it.” Nick dropped the propellers into a pile on the table and sauntered over to the tree. “Dude, that’s a mountain of boxes.” He squatted down and started rifling through the packages. “I see a ton of shit with my name on it. What’s the holdup?”
“After dinner.”
“After dinner? Hells no. I know when you’re hiding something. And when you do, it’s worth it.” Nick stood up. “C’mon, man. What’s the fuckin’ deal?”
“Hey, there’s no ‘fuck’ in Christmas.”
Allie leaned closer, whispering so only he could hear. “That’s not what I heard in the kitchen.”
“That was different.” Hudson brushed his lips against her temple.
“Now or later, bro, you’re still going to give me the prezzie. I know you and you can’t resist. So hand it over.”
“No. Later.”
“Oh, please.” Allie rolled her eyes. “You’ve been excited about this all day. Just give it to him.” She’d busted his balls on that one.
“Fine, you can open one.”
With that, Nick dove for the mass of boxes under the tree and began his own version of a scavenger hunt. He surfaced with a huge rectangular box that had his name scratched on it in Hudson’s handwriting.
“That’s your choice?”
Nick grinned. “Bigger is better.”
“Not necessarily.” Hudson strode toward the tree and closed in on a small red box with silver satin ribbon tied in an elaborate bow. All Allie’s doing, of course. He had no patience when it came to wrapping presents, always opting for a stick-on. Peel, slap, done.