Chapter Sixteen
As we climbed the stairs and turned toward the east wing, nervousness set in. I had learned that Hudson was very intent on separating the fake from the real, and that left me to wonder what would happen between the two of us at night when we were alone. It stood to reason we’d have sex, and he had made sure our room was away from the others. But did he want privacy so we could be intimate or so that his family wouldn’t know we weren’t being intimate?
It was so confusing. He so easily compartmentalized, but for me it was impossible. Everything I knew and felt about him wrapped itself tightly around me at all times. There was no separation of the pretend and the real except for how he reacted to me.
Silently as I worried about the impending situation, I followed him through double doors into a beautiful master suite. The room had two ornate mahogany dressers and a matching four-poster queen bed. Our luggage sat at the foot of the bed, opposite a small sitting area with two armchairs and a mahogany table. A fireplace lined the inner wall and the floors were hardwood covered almost entirely by a plush rug. Though it was traditionally decorated, a flat screen TV centered the wall across from the bed.
As I stood taking the room in, worrying out our situation, Hudson removed his suit jacket, humming as he did, obviously unaware of my anxiety. Next he loosened his tie and flung it over one of the chairs. He turned back to me as he unbuttoned his shirt and paused, noticing I hadn’t moved since entering the room.
Before he could ask, I blurted out what had me fretting. “Am I off-duty or on-duty?”
A small smile crossed his lips. “My family’s not around.” Yes, he’d made sure of that. “Off-duty. Besides, I told you I’d never use sex as part of the sham and I intend to have sex with you now.”
The shiver that passed through me caused every hair on my body to stand on end. “Really?”
“Of course.” He continued to pin me with his stare as he resumed his unbuttoning, moving slower than he had before.
I took in a shallow breath. “We’ve never spent the night together.”
“So we haven’t.” He took a step toward me, his sly grin growing wider. “Are you nervous?”
Yes. “No.”
His brow rose as if he sensed my lie. “You should be. You’ll be within my reach all night long. I expect you’ll be sore tomorrow.”
My nervousness melted away, replaced by intense arousal. “Hmm. Sounds lovely.”
“Good. Go get ready for bed.” He nodded toward the en suite bathroom door. “Don’t take too long. I’m eager to lick you senseless.”
I didn’t hesitate, grabbing the small bag that held my toiletries as I scurried into the bathroom. After I shut the door behind me, my finger lingered at the handle while I considered locking it. But why would I do that? Any invasion Hudson planned I would welcome.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth I paused again. What should I wear? I had packed a sexy nightie, not sure if I would use it or not. Nighties seemed to suggest a romantic tone. Didn’t they? It didn’t matter, because I’d left my suitcase in the bedroom. Should I go out clothed? Naked?
I decided to strip to my underwear, thankful that I’d worn a pretty black lace bra and matching lace boy shorts under my outfit. I folded my clothes and left them on the counter then stepped quietly out of the bathroom.
Hudson had turned off the overhead lights and switched on the nightstand lamps. His back was to me, and I could see he’d lost his dress shirt and belt and his feet were bare and sexy. God, feet had no right being sexy, but his were.
He turned and my breath caught. Our sexual relationship was still so new. Seeing his naked chest still thrilled me to no end. His hard angles, the way his pants hung low enunciating his hips, his abs of steel—I didn’t think I could ever get tired of looking at him.
Eventually my gaze fluttered to his face where I found his dark eyes, devouring me where I stood. “Nice choice.” He nodded at my attire, and my skin tingled with his approval. “Come here.” His low growl pulled me to him as effectively as if he had me on a rope. I stopped within his reach, but he didn’t touch me. He circled around me instead, standing so close I could feel the body heat radiating off of him, increasing my own already rising body temperature.
He stopped behind me, and I felt him at my neck, his breath grazing my skin. “So beautiful,” he murmured before his lips nipped at my ear. “I need to make you come.” I jumped as his hands skimmed down the length of my arms. “Over and over.” He licked along my lobe. “Do you think you can handle it?”
Words failed me. I answered with an incoherent moan, leaning my body into him, letting his heat envelop me.
He let out a wicked laugh then spun me around to face him, his mouth stopping centimeters above my own. “You don’t know if you can handle it, do you, precious? Let’s find out.”
He took me with his mouth, consuming my breath with his ravaging kiss, urging me to succumb to his control. I didn’t fight it, giving myself over to him in every way he demanded. And with each demand, I lost more of myself to him as he taught my body how to be adored and worshipped. How to be taken and dominated. Like I was made simply for his pleasure, but by the same token, that he was made for mine.
He did lick me until I was senseless, and he did make me come over and over. And in several moments I feared I couldn’t handle it. But he pushed me through each climax—both those that rolled slowly and those that ripped violently through me—with the experience and confidence of a lover that had known me intimately for far longer than he had.
After several orgasms passed between us, he lay heavily on the bed next to me, his shoulder touching mine, either spent for the night or taking a break, I wasn’t sure. My own body was boneless, every muscle lax. Sleep threatened at the edges of my consciousness, but I pushed it away, unwilling to put our evening to bed yet.
I turned my head toward him and caught him watching me, a satisfied smile on his face. Returning his grin, I sighed. “That was…incredible.”
In a flash he was on top of me, his body covering the length of mine. He laced his hands in mine and lifted them over my head. “What was your favorite part?”
All of it. Every minute of it. But that answer seemed lame and I knew he wanted something more concrete. Several amazing moments came to mind, each making me blush simply from thinking of them—like when he’d crawled up my body and straddled my neck, silently ordering me to take his cock in my mouth. That had been pretty hot.
And when he’d commanded me to play with myself while he sucked and tugged at my breast. Again, pretty hot. Also, a bit awkward. But only until I warmed up to it.
Unable to voice the memories, I turned the table on him. “What was your favorite part?”
He trailed his nose along my jaw. “The way you respond to anything…everything…I do to you.” He licked along my lower lip and I opened to kiss him, but he pulled out of reach. “Your turn.”
His mood was unusually playful and inspired me to join him. “I’ll never tell.” I grinned.
“Tell me.” He moved my hands together and pinned them with one of his. His other hand he lowered to rest lightly at my hip.
My exposed ribcage made me feel vulnerable. He could tickle me mercilessly. I tempted him anyway. “Make me.”
“I can’t make you do anything.” His hand flickered across my sensitive side and I flinched.
“I think you could.” I braced myself for his assault. “I hear you’re quite good at making women do things.”
And suddenly I wasn’t playing anymore, but hinting at deeper meanings. I hadn’t meant to go there, but his confession of manipulating women for sport always hung right below the surface of our time together. Lying nude beneath him now, completely stripped of senses from multiple orgasms, it bubbled to the top and escaped my lips.
His eye twitched, the only indication he gave that my true implication affected him. “I am good at making women do things.”
I couldn’t help myself. I nudged the conversation on. “But not me.”
“No.” His voice lowered, the playfulness gone. “Not you.”
“Am I not…” I searched for the question I wanted to ask, needing the answer even though I couldn’t yet form the words. “…intriguing…enough to play that game with?”
My hands still pinned above me, he propped himself up with his other arm so he could glare down at me. “God, Alayna, do you want me to do that to you? Possess you? I would crush you. I would destroy you.” His tone was dark, but also honestly inquisitive. “Is that what you want?”
My eyes filled. I hated the truth of my answer. “No, but a little bit yes too. That’s how my stupid brain works. If you don’t do with me what you normally do with other girls, there must be something wrong with me.”
He laughed as he lowered himself to the bed beside me. “Oh, it’s all you, huh? It’s not that there’s something wrong with me? How self-centered of you.”
Free to move, I rolled to my side toward him. “I’m very self-centered. I want to be special. I’m afraid that I’m not.”
“You are.” His words were emphatic. “Even more than you could imagine you are.” He turned his body so he could face me. “Because I don’t want to destroy you more than I need to possess you. That’s progress for me.”
We were both vulnerable now. Two damaged souls spilling our brokenness in a private therapy session. Was this what he had wanted between us? Sharing like this, without judgment, without shame? It was…nice.
I stopped worrying about being exposed and spoke from the gut. “Then I’ll try not to fixate on what it means that I’m different for you. That will be progress for me.”
He nodded, the weight of my words sinking in. “Do you know why you do it?”
“Why I become obsessive about guys?”
“Yeah.”
“My counselors have said it’s probably about not feeling loved as a child. Aggravated by the early death of my parents. So I’m constantly seeking affection and doubting it when I receive it because I don’t know what it really feels like.”
“How did you get over that?”
It wasn’t at all what I thought he’d ask, and I sensed he was asking as much for himself as he was about me. I’d gotten this far into the depths of candidness, might as well dive right in. “I haven’t. It’s a constant battle. Lots of self-affirmation. Lots of silly little tricks, like wearing elastic bands to remind me.”
He nodded, understanding about my elastic band settling in. “You still fall into old habits.”
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“You know the answer to that.” My voice came out a whisper. I wanted to look away, but our eyes were locked and in the softness of his gaze I found the courage to tell more. “I didn’t believe you were away on business. I thought you didn’t want to see me. That’s why I came by your building.”
His face fell, as though my honesty crushed him. He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were dark and intense. He reached his hand out to cup my nape, insuring that my face was fixed on his. “Alayna, I will never lie to you.” His voice was gruff. “Not when we’re off-duty. I will always tell you the truth. I swear it.”
His grip loosened, and his thumb stroked across my bare cheek. “Do you understand?”
I nodded and covered his hand with mine. “Hudson, this,” I choked, my throat tight with emotion. “This was my favorite part.”
For a split second I worried I’d scared him with my intensity, that he’d pull away. But he didn’t. Instead he put his hand on my ass and pulled me closer. He stroked down my thigh, urging it forward to rest around his waist. Then he slid inside me, my p-ssy already wet from earlier orgasms. He was slow and steady with his pace, less rough than he often tended to be, his usual sex talk absent. But, because of the things we’d shared, his measured thrusts felt raw, more intent on connecting than on gratifying.
Climax came quickly for both of us, mine crashing through me in waves that tightened my belly and curled my toes and caused fireworks to cross my vision, his spurting hot and prolonged as he groaned my name. His eyes never left mine, though they narrowed as he came, and it deepened the intimacy. I knew he’d told the truth, I trusted him. In his words, in his actions, I felt fixed. I’d fallen into something that had nothing to do with love. Into healing.
And it was love too. If I could stand to admit it to myself, love was exactly what it was.