Free Web NovelChapter 99: Chapter 99 Stunning Ab
Christina’s POV
I woke up cuddled against something warm and solid. Tanned male skin. Smooth. Slightly salty. Rising and falling with steady breaths.
My fingers were currently exploring what felt like a marble sculpture. Hudson’s abs.
The early morning light filtered through the hospital room windows. Just bright enough to confirm I was indeed wrapped around Hudson like some desperate koala, and yes, he was definitely shirtless.
I blinked several times, waiting for my fever-fried brain to fully reboot.
Last night was a foggy mess. Fragments of memories surfaced—fever, IV drips, ice packs. Hudson climbing into bed with me. Then leaving. Then returning again.
After that? Total blank.
My hospital gown felt paper-thin against his radiating heat.
Akira stirred in my mind. "He smells so good. Touch him more."
"Shut up," I hissed internally. frёewebηovel.cѳm
I didn’t want to act like I had zero self-control around attractive men, like I’d never seen a shirtless man before, practically drooling and reaching out to touch without permission.
But then I stole another glance at Hudson.
Well, maybe appreciating male beauty was only natural.Any creature with functioning eyes would have to admit he was deadly-gorgeous.
My traitorous hand was still splayed across his stomach. I started to pull back, then hesitated.
Quick peek at his face. Eyes closed. Breathing even.
Slowly, with the stealth of a cat burglar, I returned my hand to its previous position.
The man was ridiculous. Physically impossible. Unfair to the general male population.
I’d done pack training a lot, worked out regularly, could even claim a reasonably flat stomach on my better days. But this? This was something else entirely.
Eight perfect abs. Not six. Eight.
So defined they looked machine-carved. Clinical. Textbook perfect.
My fingers traced the ridges between them, feeling the incredible muscle definition.
Niall had abs too from his religious gym attendance, but comparing them was like comparing a hobby painter to Michelangelo.
Hudson’s muscles weren’t just for show. His entire body was built like this—chest, arms, and based on the thigh currently pressed against mine, his legs matched too.
Niall’s body was all surface level. Soft hands from expensive moisturizers. Pampered skin from regular spa treatments.
I stole another glance at Hudson. Still sleeping.
Emboldened, I pressed my palm flat against his stomach, feeling his steady breaths. The muscles remained taut even in sleep.
Wait. Shouldn’t muscles relax when sleeping?
Hudson felt perpetually ready, like he could spring from deep sleep to full battle mode in a heartbeat. Like a wolf always prepared.
"Morning."
My hand jerked back like I’d touched a hot stove. "M-morning."
Suddenly, I became extremely aware of my thigh hooked over his. I tried shifting away.
That’s when I felt it.
The big, unmistakable morning problem pressed against my leg.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Did you stay with me all night?"
"You don’t remember?" His voice rumbled from above, surprisingly light and amused.
"I was pretty out of it. Probably delirious."
He touched my forehead briefly. "Fever’s gone."
"Yeah, feeling much better."
His eyes flickered down to meet mine. "Then why is your face still so red?"
I froze mid-leg-untangle, caught.
"I’ll get the doctor," he said, laughter in his voice as he carefully separated our limbs. He slipped out of bed, grabbed a shirt from the nearby laundry bag, and left the room.
I sat up slowly. My body felt heavy but no longer burning.
Patting my cheeks confirmed they were still hot. Great.
I padded into the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and leaned over the sink.
When I looked up at the mirror, I saw the other problem.
No bra. Two very obvious points were making themselves known through the thin hospital gown.
"Damn it."
He must have noticed. No way he missed that.
"Damn it," I muttered again, rushing back to bed and yanking the blanket up to my chin.
The doctor arrived shortly after, checked my vitals, and informed me I needed to stay a few more days for observation.
Hudson had breakfast delivered while I maintained my blanket fortress. He raised the tray table and began arranging everything like we were having Sunday brunch at the Ritz.
I would’ve insisted on eating at the coffee table like a normal person with functioning limbs, but I stayed put. No chance I was exposing the girls again.
Whoever delivered the food clearly thought Hudson was feeding a small army.
Toast. Pastries. Scrambled eggs. Fresh fruit. Four mini jam jars. Butter. Coffee. Juice. A water bottle too tall for the tray.
Then he cleared the side table to add cheese, cold cuts, smoked salmon, and yogurt in a fancy glass jar.
"I’m not a whale, you know," I said, squinting at the feast.
"Doctor mentioned you might not have much appetite. I asked for options. Just eat what you want."
"Join me," I offered.
He nodded and started to sit on the edge of the bed, then paused.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing." He pulled up a chair instead.
I grabbed a spoon and attacked the food.
By the time he’d unscrewed a jam lid, I’d demolished a cup of yogurt and half a slice of French toast.
He watched me for a solid minute.
"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"You eat fast," he observed, his tone clinical. "And swallow fast."
"Proof my appetite’s fine."
"Eating too quickly isn’t good for digestion."
I mumbled, "Right. Got it."
I tried slowing down. Made it through maybe three careful bites before abandoning the effort.
He didn’t mention it again, just studied me like he was making mental notes.
As I ate, more memories from last night surfaced.
I remembered talking. Oversharing.
Things I’d only ever told Ysolde. Buried traumas. Things I definitely didn’t want Hudson knowing.
I trusted him as my fake mate and partner in crime, but I hadn’t intended to show him the broken pieces of high-school Christina.
Maybe he’d forgotten?
"Isobel Brooke’s been arrested," he said casually.
Apparently not.
