What's Next
Bridesmaid by Chance
PROLOGUE
HUDSON
“Pull harder…Husband.”
“I don’t want to hurt you…Wife,” I say on a grunt as the strings of her corset dig into the flesh of my fingers.
“How could you possibly hurt me any more than you already have?” Sloane counters with that telltale sass that I’ve grown to know very well.
A sass that grates on my nerves—like a rusty knife, spinning and twirling in my insides. I’ll tell you one thing for certain: when I initially hired her as my assistant, there wasn’t one telltale sign of that sass. But now…now it’s all I fucking get.
I let go of the strings of her corset and take a step back, fucking irritated with this situation that I’ve gotten myself into because it’s…it’s…Sloane.
Sloane Galloway, thirteen years younger than me and sister to one of my best friends, brother-in-law, and business partners.
She’s my assistant.
She’s my biggest fucking secret.
What kind of secret? Well, she’s my wife.
Yup, you read that correctly. My wife.
It happened so fast, I can barely remember the circumstances.
Shit. That’s a lie. I remember every second of how it happened.
Every goddamn, intricate second when I felt my world shift.
When everything changed.
When vulnerability met need and I succumbed to the combination, falling like a leaf, barely putting up a fight.
It all started as a favor to a friend.
Jude’s sister needed some help finding a temporary job to gain some experience straight out of college. Being the upstanding guy that I am, I offered her a job at the company. It was a win-win for everyone. I needed help. She needed help. A solution was formed.
What I didn’t expect was to be…distracted.
And yes, it was my problem not hers.
The pervy fucking grandpa over here—that’s me—couldn’t stop feeling his heart beat just a touch faster anytime she was in the room.
Nor could I get rid of the florally addictive scent of her perfume in my office.
Her hair—long, sleek, brown—captivated me.
Her deep brown eyes that are so large, so doe-like, that I kept staring at her longer than I should have.
It got to the point that I could feel her…all around me.
I saw her all the time.
Her husky voice greeted me every morning.
Her tailored outfits hugged her body in all the right places.
Her attentiveness, the way she would look at me…the occasional brush of her hand.
I know, I’m pathetic.
So when she proposed marriage to me, I…I fucking folded.
Yes, me, Hudson Fucking Hopper, the billionaire business tycoon out to prove his dictator of a father wrong.
I folded.
I said yes.
But not only did I say yes to marrying her, I said yes to keeping it a secret from her brother.
I fucking know—I can feel your cringe from here.
Keeping a secret from my friend and business partner about marrying his sister is definitely not one of my smartest decisions ever…
“Hudson,” Sloane says, pulling my attention to where she’s standing in front of me, her arms clutching at the corset she’s required to wear, looking all sorts of fuckable at the moment as those innocent eyes of hers stare back at me.
“What?” I ask, my voice coming out harsh.
“I need you to dress me.”
I feel my Adam’s apple bob as I swallow the saliva building in my mouth.
My skin itches from her proximity.
My hands beg me to reach out and touch her.
And when my eyes fall to her mouth, that sultry fucking mouth that has brought me to my knees on many occasions, I can feel myself slipping.
And she can see it as well.
Because when the corner of her lips tilts up, I know I’m in trouble.
“Or has your intent been to undress me this entire time?” she asks just as she drops her corset to the ground, putting her perfect tits on display.
Fuck.
Me.
She closes the space between us, pushes me back onto the bed, and then moves between my legs, kneeling before me.
Yup.
I’m fucked.
I’m so goddamn fucked.
