Caged (The Defiant Kings Book 1)

Hudson has four bedrooms upstairs, besides the master. I walked by each one on my way to the shower, so I knew they were there before I got comfortable on the couch last night. I also knew I should have excused myself and gone to bed in one of them when my eyes got heavy after the first half of Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone. Apparently, Hudson gets every channel except the Hallmark channel. But Harry Potter is my favorite movie franchise, so I ignored my body begging me for a bed and my brain telling me I should probably have sat on the opposite end of the sectional, far away from the ridiculously sexy man I was here to help. Luckily, even I knew that was ridiculous, and I convinced myself to stay right where I was. I could go to bed after Harry, Hermione, and Ron saved the day.

Only I never made it to that scene.

The last thing I remember was Hudson tugging a big cream blanket from the back of the couch and forcing me to share the softest blanket I’d ever snuggled under with him. I thought about saying no. I considered going to bed, like a coward with her tail between her legs. Then Cinder curled up between the two of us and surprised me when she rubbed up against the man who causes butterflies to take flight in my belly.

He ran his hand down her back, and to my complete surprise, she let him.

Traitor.

I was jealous of the cat.

Friend, Madison. He’s a friend. That mantra played over and over in my mind while I overanalyzed the space between us. It wasn’t like I was staying in the family room. He was planning on sleeping on the couch . . . I wasn’t.

What do they say about the best laid plans?

Stupid plans.

Those beautiful windows I loved yesterday really suck when the sun shines blindingly through them first thing in the morning. Definitely more effective than any alarm clock I’ve ever set. But once the light wakes me up, it only takes seconds to realize where I slept last night. Because right now, my head isn’t resting on a soft pillow. Nope. It’s resting on a hard body.

I scrunch my eyes closed tightly, not ready to face the humiliation of admitting that not only did I fall asleep, but I also managed to rest my freaking face against Hudson’s thigh.

I peak quickly through my lids, then slam them shut again.

Yup. Right next to his . . . Ohmygod . . .

Hudson is completely reclined, sleeping on his back with his arms tucked behind his head, and I’m practically molesting him with my face inches from his dick. Inches.

I never even sleep through the night. Daphne used to tease me about it in college. I’m a ridiculously light sleeper. Constantly moving while growing up did that to me. Always sharing a room with new people. Never trusting anyone. I hear everything.

How . . .? How . . .? How did I let this happen?

“You’re thinking really hard down there, Mads. Stop. It’s too early for that shit.” Humiliation burns my skin while Hudson’s raspy, sleepy voice puts a halt to my spiraling thoughts. He shifts beneath me, and I thank God I’m at least not lying on his hurt leg, as his big palm runs over my hair and down my back.

Amazingly, I resist the urge to jerk away and instead push up slowly, like I’m not a psychopath who hates to be touched. Because for some reason, I don’t hate it when he does it. His warm palm settles on my back, and I sit up. “Sorry. I meant to go to bed last night. I can’t believe . . .”

“Maddie, relax.” Hudson’s dark eyes soften as they search my face. “It’s not a big deal.” Yeah, to him I guess it wouldn’t be. This man has probably slept with more women than I’ll know in a lifetime.

“Of course.” I shake off that horrific thought and the stabby urges that come with it and stand, only to be stopped when Hudson grabs my hand. My eyes snap to his fingers against my skin, and he drops it immediately.

“I was just gonna say thank you for your help last night.”

“No problem.” At least none I’m going to tell him about. “Are you hungry? I can make you breakfast.” I know the words spilling from my lips are rushed and shaky, but there’s nothing I can do to control them.

“Nah. I’m good. Just a little sore.”

I tug the blanket from his body to look at his knee, but instead my eyes lock on the impressive bulge tenting his sweats. Holy . . . wow.

I force my eyes back to his knee. The swelling is down from last night. “Let me get you some peas, so you can ice your knee before you start moving around.” I can only imagine what kind of lunatic I look like when I bolt from the room.

I hate this.

I’m not this person.

I don’t get nervous like this.

Not anymore.

And I really don’t like that I’m doing it now.

Pull it together, Madison.

I’m stronger than this. He’s just a man, like any other man. But that’s the problem. Hudson Kingston isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Ten minutes later, Hudson has another bag of peas on his knee and a protein shake in his hand.

“Hey, Hud?” I ask as I walk back into the family room. His head tips back, and it really isn’t fair how good this man looks first thing in the morning. I just looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and cringed—full-on cringed. And he looks like he’s ready for a photoshoot or something. Totally unfair.

“Where’d you go there, sunshine?”

Good question. How about to a place I’m never going to tell him about. “What’s your Wi-Fi password? I’ve gotta get some work done today.”

The front door slams against the wall behind it, setting off the alarm as Imogen storms in. Hudson grabs his phone to turn off the obnoxious beeping, then watches the fiery red ball of anger that’s his best friend as she storms into the room.

“Hudson Kingston. Why did I not know you stopped a goddamned burglar last night and got hurt doing it? And why the hell didn’t you call me when you needed help?” Imogen might be yelling, but I know her well enough to recognize the hurt in her voice. These two are tighter than most siblings I know, and she’s not even one of his sisters.

She stands in front of him, her arms folded over her chest, glaring at him, and fortunately, ignoring me.

I grab my bag from the floor where Max left it last night, and wave when Hudson looks over at me and mouths help. “Sorry, dude. You’re on your own.”

Imogen never takes her eyes off her best friend. “Are you okay, Mads? Cade said you were fine.”

“Good as gold, Gen. Just going upstairs to get dressed.” I hold in my laughter when Hudson grimaces, like he’s bracing for more yelling, and slip upstairs. I know better than to get in between those two when they fight.

Instead, I’m grateful for the reprieve while I pull myself together.

It’s going to be a long week.

Hudson

Once Maddie goes upstairs, I pull myself up from the couch and stretch out my sore muscles. My knee is throbbing in tune to my fucking heartbeat already. Great sign for how the day’s gonna go.

I hobble into the kitchen on the crutches the hospital sent home with me, tuning out Imogen, who’s still grumbling behind me. I should have already run five miles around the damn lake this morning instead of sleeping on the couch with my leg in the fucking air.

Who the fuck can sleep like that?

Not me, that’s for sure.

On top of the ridiculous position, it’s hard to fall asleep with a beautiful woman next you. Her sweet scent invading my senses didn’t help me any. And that was before she fell asleep with her head tucked against my shoulder. Before she managed to slide down until her face was using my quad as a damn pillow. Inches from my dick. Sighing those sweet little sighs. Sounds I want to hear while my tongue is buried in her pussy.

Fucking hell. This woman.

I don’t do this. I don’t obsess over women.

Especially during training camp.

They’re a distraction.

And I learned a long fucking time ago that distractions are dangerous.

She’s my friend. Like Imogen . . . but not. Imogen has always been like a sister. From the day I met her, she was like Scarlet, Lenny, and Amelia. I’d do anything for her, but I’ve never fantasized about seeing her naked. Something I may or may not have imagined about Maddie more times than I’d ever admit while spanking it in the shower.

“What’s wrong with you?”

When I turn around, Imogen’s standing in the kitchen, looking at me like I’ve lost my shit. She might not be far off. “What’s wrong?” I shake my head. “It’s less than two weeks out from the biggest fight of my life, and I can’t put weight on my left leg without pain. I can’t train. Fuck. I couldn’t even make it upstairs to get a goddamned shower last night. I slept like shit. I’m in pain, and I’m tired. Does that about sum it up?”

“Hud . . . why didn’t you call me? I would have come over.” She sits down on a stool at the island and waits.

“I don’t know, Gen. It happened fast, and I was just thinking about whether I was going to be able to fight next week. The hospital took forever. Scarlet yelled at everyone. Cade was trying to keep her calm, and Maddie barely said a word. It just kind of happened. They suggested she stay here for a few days, and I went with it. I didn’t really want her going home alone, if I’m honest.” I move across from her and lean my weight against the counter. “The guy was right behind her when I walked in. Too fucking close. I don’t know . . . It scared me. And we both know I don’t get scared.”

Imogen’s bright green eyes stare at me, assessing. “Uh-huh. This has nothing to do with the crush you’ve had on Maddie Dixon since she started working at the gym then?”

“Seriously? A crush? What are we . . . thirteen? I don’t have a crush.” And even if I did, now wouldn’t be the damn time to talk about it . . . Or act on it.

The fight’s in eight days.

Nothing else matters until then.

She taps her fingers against the counter and cocks her head to the side. “Okay. I’ll drop it—”

“Good,” I interrupt her, but Imogen keeps talking.

“If you can tell me you don’t have feelings for Maddie.”

“I’m eight days out from this fight, Gen. It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for Maddie right now. It’s not going to matter the day after the fight either, because Maddie’s looking for Mr. Forever. We all know it. And I’m not that guy.”

Imogen picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and throws it at my head, then groans when I let go of the crutch and catch it. “Don’t talk about yourself that way, dumbass. Just because you’ve never been that guy doesn’t mean that you can’t be. You just need to find someone worth it, and you know it.”

I glare at her and take a bite of the apple.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.

My dad fell in love more times in his lifetime than the average person ever will. And he cheated on all his wives. All but one. Lenny and Jace’s mom was the real love of his life, and if he cheated on her, he never got caught. Not the best example of relationships to live with growing up.

The only thing it showed me was what I didn’t want to do.

The kind of husband I never wanted to be.

“Hey, Gen . . .” I tap her foot with my crutch, needing to lighten the mood. “Want to help me in the shower?” I wiggle my brows, just before her elbow jabs me again.

“Eww. No.” She pushes me away. “Call one of your brothers. Hell, call my brother. I don’t want to see your junk.”

Turns out, I don’t need to call Cade because he calls me ten fucking minutes after Imogen leaves to make sure I’m staying off my leg. He also tells me he talked to the cops, and they don’t have any leads. It looks like a random break-in. “Thanks, man. I’m taking it easy now. Tomorrow, I’ll stretch and see how it feels.”

“Take it easy. Start slow. You’re in great shape, man. You’ve done the work. You’re not one of those guys who gets fat and lazy between fights. You’ve got this. You’re gonna be fine.” The busy gym hums in the background. The metal clang of weights hitting the floor. The beat of the music blasting through the speakers. The dull sound of voices. They’re all the sounds of home.

Crucible is my favorite place to be.

It’s ironic that inside that cage is where I feel alive.

And for the first time since I bought this house, I fucking hate that I’m stuck here.