I know I can trust him with my life, but can I trust him with my heart?
Caged, an all-new heat-filled, friends-to-lovers, forced proximity, MMA romance from USA Today bestselling author Bella Matthews is live now!
Why are the cocky ones always the hardest to resist?
I know I can trust him with my life, but can I trust him with my heart?
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EXCERPT
A creak in the hall a few minutes later has me watching a shadow that stops on the other side of the closed door. My heart races, wondering if Hudson’s going to knock. But after a minute, the shadow is gone, and the footsteps head further down the hall to the next room. Hudson’s bedroom.
I sit there, paralyzed and debating what to do for at least ten minutes as disappointment chokes me. Until I finally get up, positive this is insane but forcing myself to move until I’m standing in front of his closed door with my hand pressed against it.
“Maddie?” he calls from inside the room.
“Yeah,” I whisper back. He doesn’t say anything, but the door opens, and I swallow my tongue.
Steam is billowing in from the master bathroom, and wow . . .
This man is beautiful. Standing with one crutch under his arm, a towel wrapped around his hips, and his wet hair dripping down his face, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything sexier. I rake my eyes over all the beautiful, inked muscles on display and have to fight the sudden urge to reach out and trace every last line.
It’s a new urge, and I don’t hate it.
“Are you okay, Mads?” He adjusts his hold on the crutch, still favoring his sore knee and searching my face for an answer. “Maddie?”
I take a deep breath to settle my thoughts as they go into overdrive. “I’m fine. I just . . . God, why is it so hard?”
Hudson cocks his eyebrow, and I realize what I said. More importantly, what it sounded like. “Not you, you big goof.”
“I know, sunshine. I just wanted to see you smile. You never smiled tonight. Not your real smile anyway.”Hudson steps back. “Let me throw some pants on.”
“Okay.”
He moves into the walk-in closet, nearly out of view but not completely.
No . . . I can’t tear my eyes away, as the black towel hits the plush carpet, and am rewarded with an unobstructed view of one calf before it’s covered by a pair of dark jersey pajama pants. When he steps back into the room, he’s shirtless with just those pajama bottoms hanging from incredibly lean hips. Of course, this king has those damn dips that form a perfect V leading to . . . trouble. Yup. I bring my eyes back up to meet his and see a devilish spark staring back at me. Definitely leading to trouble.
Hudson ambles across the room and presses a button that closes the drapes, then sits on the bed with the TV remote in his hand. “Come on, Mads. I want to see what happens in the next Harry Potter. Watch it with me.”
And like a moth to a flame, I throw caution to the wind and walk into the room.
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