A Girl Like You by vinnie Kinsella (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

“Her chair,” Hudson explained.

I thought about my kitchen table littered with a few days’ worth of mail, coupons, an old soup can filled with pencils, spare change, the empty paper towel holder, and maybe even Penny’s leash. There were no carved shells in the entryway and my kitchen had counters—not an island. I still had candid photos of the kids on my walls; Adam’s talent for photography had become a lifelong hobby. None of us had portraits done.

My house has character, I reminded myself, straightening my shoulders. It looked like people actually lived there. Hudson’s place looked like he had a cleaning service go in two or three times a week.

“I haven’t dusted lately,” he said.

I looked around for dust and saw none. Not even a stray dog hair.

“This can be your bathroom to use,” Hudson said, leading me through a gorgeous guest room with a bed covered in pristine white blankets and a lace coverlet.

I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My bathroom?

The marble countertops were as clean as if the room had never been used. On the far side of the room was a deep garden tub, sparkling white, with huge silver claw feet. Everything matched: the creamy shower curtain, the scallop-edged fingertip towels, the perfectly pleated curtains. The bath towels, also folded and looking brand-new, were monogrammed in silver with his initials.

“Nice.” I tried not to sound as overwhelmed as I felt.

“Thanks. I designed the house myself.”

There was one thing strikingly missing in Hudson’s one-floor home: a staircase.

“Yeah, didn’t want to bring my work home with me,” he joked.

Hudson led me back through the guestroom. In the hallway, I looked over my shoulder to see another bathroom, this one in shades of seafoam blue.

“How many bathrooms do you have?”

“Three,” Hudson said casually. “All of them full baths.”

Hudson pulled out a bottle of red wine and a type of cork opener I’d never seen before—was it electric? It unscrewed the cork without him even having to turn it. He expertly swirled the wine into delicate long-stemmed glasses, leaving them drip-free with a practiced flourish.

“You’re good at that,” I said.

“Yeah, well—I practice when I’m alone.”

“Really?”

“Not really, Jess.” He held out his wineglass for a toast.

“To our second date,” I said, clinking his glass and causing my wine to splash.

“You know what happens on a second date, right?” Hudson said, deliciously teasing.

Pulling out a remote control, he switched on music that came from nowhere I could see.

It was a song I loved.

“No one ever likes my music,” he said as I started singing along.

We looked each other in the eyes and I thought of the saying, or was it lyrics, that you could get lost in someone’s eyes. His were somber, as if he were very serious about something.

“Come here,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me to his bedroom.

His enormous bed was straight out of a home fashion magazine, complete with matching shams, bed skirt, and those little pillows with the buttons in the middle that make everything look elegant.

Hudson saw me looking. Laughing, he scooped up the pillow collection and carried them over to a small loveseat by the bay window, where he set them down carefully. He came slowly back across the room and took me by the hand.

“Jess.”

I thanked god I was wearing a shirt without buttons. He pulled it over my head and off me in one easy motion.

“Undress me,” he said.

I fumbled nervously with the buttons of his shirt. His chest had a smooth cover of fuzz the same sandy color as his wild head of hair. He helped me with the zipper of his jeans as I struggled to slip mine off without falling over.

“Beautiful,” Hudson said, tracing the edges of my bra with the tips of his fingers. He pulled me up into his arms and set me down on the bed, hovering over me to kiss my mouth, ears, and neck, biting gently in a way that made me start moving my hips toward him. He held out his hands to pull me up to unclasp my bra, drawing in a breath as he saw my nipples harden.

“Jess,” he said again.

I kept my eyes open as he lay down on top of me, nuzzling my breasts, and I could feel a bulge against my thighs. I moved my leg closer to press against it.

“How much further do you want to go?” he asked, pulling away from me in a way that was agonizing.

“Just a little more.”

What I meant was, “Have your way with me, sweetheart.”

I realized I was supposed to be participating, so I slid down and tugged at his boxers, releasing his penis, which sprang to attention.

It was perfect, I thought as I put my mouth over it.

“Oh, honey,” he sighed.

He didn’t do that annoying thing some men do and push my face onto his penis, pumping away. He let me lick as I wanted, swirling motions along the head, then deeper to the back of my throat. I liked it as much as he did.

“I need to get inside you,” he groaned.

He rolled me over and used his fingers to find my entrance, pushing into me in one smooth motion. We both made the same noise.

And then, suddenly, I couldn’t feel him anymore.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling out his flaccid penis. “Sometimes the plumbing doesn’t work the way it should.”

“It’s OK,” I lied, shocked by the sudden end to our sex.

Then Hudson used his head to move my legs open and buried his face between them, licking any reservations right out of me. He stroked me with his tongue, working my clit in one delicious motion as I rocked my hips, fighting the urge to grind on his face. He pulled away, his face slick with my wetness.

I waited uncertainly. He came up to the top of the bed and lay next to me.

Well, that’s that, I thought.

But Hudson wasn’t done with me yet. “Come up here,” he said. “Sit on