Chapter Eleven
Before I was out of earshot, I heard Hudson defending my departure. “She left something in the car. Excuse us a moment.”
F*ck, he was coming after me.
The sure way to lose him was to head for the bathroom, not that I put it past Hudson to follow me in, but I didn’t know where it was located, and I’d already made it past the host’s desk. My eyes scanned the hallway. There were the elevators, which would require waiting for a car, and a door to the stairs.
I took the stairs, and, realizing fifty flights down in heels was maybe not a good idea, I went up.
The breeze hit my face as I stepped onto the roof, the heavy door slamming behind me. I kept walking.
The roof was practically abandoned, so I knew the sound of the door shutting behind me was Hudson. Still I kept on, rushing through the gardens and leisure seating arranged across the building top, trying to find a spot where I could be alone, where I could breathe, where I could sort out my paranoia from the legitimacy of the situation.
At the corner wall, I stopped. I leaned over the edge of the cement enclosure, gulping in huge lungfuls of air. Deep breathing was the only thing keeping me from breaking down into sobs.
His footsteps were quiet behind me, but I still heard them, as if I was hyper-attuned to his movements. He stopped before he got to me, reaching out to me with speech instead of his body. “The Werners are practically family.”
At least he was smart enough to know why I’d run. And brave enough to not pretend otherwise. He deserved credit for that.
But I couldn’t give him anything but disbelief. “Right. Uh-huh.” I didn’t turn toward him. I didn’t want to see his face as he explained. If his expression said I was being ridiculous—it would break me.
“What, do you think I didn’t tell you on purpose?” His voice was calm despite his words.
I spit out a harsh laugh. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
“Actually, I do.”
I spun around. “No, you don’t.” I backed up until the high corner wall met my back. He didn’t get it. Chances were that my feelings were magnified—I had no way to judge their validity when I was this upset. Experience and counseling taught me to not deal with these situations until I calmed down. I needed time to get calm.
“Trust me when I tell you I do.”
“Hudson, you can’t say that when you don’t know what I want to say. It’s not good. In fact, you need to leave me alone. Or I’m going to blame you for things. Things I’m probably overreacting about and you’re going to be offended. And I’m going to lose you.”
That was the only thing I knew for sure. That whatever I said, whatever I felt, it would drive him away. My intense emotions had never failed to scare off the men in my life. Even my own brother had grown tired of dealing.
“You aren’t going to lose me.” He took one step toward me. Not cautious, but completely sure. As if to say he had complete control of the situation. As if to say, just try to back me down.
I pressed harder against the cement behind me, wishing I could disappear inside it. I didn’t want him to witness me like this. “You haven’t seen this side of me, Hudson. You don’t know.”
“Then I need to stay. I need to see every side of you.”
He was so calm. I shook my head and bit my lip, fighting off the tears that threatened. F*ck, I couldn’t cry. Eventually I’d have to go back to that restaurant and I didn’t want to be tear-stained.
But if Hudson stayed, if he pressed me, I didn’t think I could keep it together.
Or maybe I could tell him. If we were going to share things, then shouldn’t this be one of them? Shouldn’t he be the one person whom I could go to about anything? He’d always brought me peace in the past, when I’d explained what was going on in my head.
“Go ahead. Ask me.”
“It won’t be asking; it will be accusing.” I continued to fight, but my defense was weaker.
And underneath all the accusations rolling in my mind, one thought kept repeating: It wasn’t fair. Not f*cking fair. None of it—my parent’s dying, my father’s drinking, my past obsessions, whatever led to now when my history of crazy made it impossible to determine whether or not what I was feeling at the moment was valid. Whether I should be laying into Hudson over his deceit or whether I should be apologizing for running out.
“Do it. I want to hear it. I need to know what you’re thinking. Trust me.”
Trust me. It always came to that. I either trusted him, or I didn’t.
And the simple fact was that I did. Trust him.
I swallowed. “You didn’t invite me tonight because you knew she’d be here.” It was barely a whisper, but he heard me.
He nodded once, saying he understood. “That’s not true. I told you why I didn’t invite you. And I did invite you in the end. You’re here.”
“But you didn’t want to at first.” I stared at my shoes, but my voice strengthened as I fell into the accusations waiting on my tongue. “That’s probably why you had to doll me up. To show up Celia, whatever your game with her is. It wasn’t about your mother at all.”
“You’re right.”
My head whipped up.
“You’re right that it wasn’t about my mother. It was about you. I wanted everyone to see how beautiful you are. How beautiful the woman who loves me is.”
His statement stirred up my fury. Was he turning my love into a trophy? Into a weapon against her?
It sure felt as such.
“Celia,” I spit her name. “You wanted to show Celia, you mean.”
He shook his head again.
“She’s here, Hudson!” I didn’t care that I was shouting. The few people on the roof could enjoy the scene. I didn’t even notice if anyone’s head turned, I was so wrapped up in my anger. “She’s here with free rein and I had to beg to be here. And you told me you wouldn’t see her without me. What is she to you?”
“Nothing. An old friend.”
“Bullshit.” My voice cracked, but, so far, the tears were staying in my eyes. “Otherwise you would have told me about this dinner from the beginning. You were hiding it from me.” I pointed a shaky finger at him. “Because you knew she would be here too.”
“I didn’t know.” His lids closed in a long blink as he took a breath. “I suspected,” he conceded. “But she’s not here because of me. Her mother is my mother’s best friend. You know that.”
“F*ck that. She’s twenty-eight years old. She’s old enough to not go to every goddamn function with her mother. She’s here for you.”
“And I’m here with you.” His tone was solid, unwavering. Such a contrast to mine.
“She’s still in love with you.”
“And I’m with you.”
He closed the gap between us, and I secretly sighed in relief, placing my palms against the wall for support. He braced his arms on either side of me, caging me in. “I’m with you.”
My fingers curled inward, trying to hold onto something. Having no success against the cement, they flew forward and gripped onto his jacket instead.
He took that as an invitation to move closer. Or he just moved closer, not caring if he was invited or not. He pressed his body against mine, and I couldn’t help but press back into him, soaking in his warmth. I’d feared my words would scare him off, and even though my doubts hadn’t yet been stilled, he hadn’t gone anywhere. He was there.
There and wanting.
His erection pressed against my belly.
My eyes flew to his, surprised. He was turned on? How did…why was…did my doubts do that? Did my messed up anxiety make him want me more?
“I’m hard for you and only you.” He spoke low, his words gritty with desire. “It’s you that I adore.” He lowered his mouth to kiss along my neck, and I let my head fall to the side, granting him access. I moaned as his lips met my skin.
Then, with simply his touch, I relaxed, melting into him. This was all I needed—his mouth on me, his body against me. Who cared about the why? I only cared that he was there.
I threw my arms around his neck, and his mouth crushed into mine, hard. His tongue plunged inside, stroking and caressing—I went wet wanting him inside me in the same way.
He pulled my lower lip between his teeth then let it go. “I’m with you,” he said again as his hands gathered the material of my dress up around my waist, tucking it in to the band of my underwear. And again, as his fingers slipped inside my panties.
His fingers circled against my nub, and I bucked forward with a moan.
“That’s it.” He continued his expert caressing, kissing me and encouraging me. “Relax. Let me be with you.”
I whimpered as fingers slid along the length of my slit and found the center of my heat. But instead of entering me as I so desired—so needed—Hudson dropped to his knees and pulled my panties down to my ankles.
Before I could protest the loss of his hands on my core, he licked along the lips of my vagina. “It’s you that I’m about to go down on.” He spoke between long strokes with his tongue. “It’s you I’m going to make come with my mouth so that when we go back down there and you start to feel insecure, you will still be wet and you’ll remember my lips were on you and no one else.”
I was about to come from his words alone, so turned on by his possessiveness, by his demand for me to know that I was his.
He lifted one foot out of my panties and threw my leg over his shoulder. Then he returned full force, sucking my * into his mouth. His fingers jabbed into my hole—I have no idea how many he used—but he bent them and stroked me until I was writhing. I clutched my hands into his hair for support as my orgasm exploded through me, rocking me against his hand, against his mouth.
Hudson didn’t wait for me to calm before he stood, pressing his pelvis against me, urging me to give his cock attention. I cupped his length—God, he was so hard.
“Take it out,” he commanded.
Laughter drew my eyes across the roof to a group of people lounging in the sitting area. How long had they been there? “We’re not alone.”
“Take it out. I don’t care about anyone or anything but being inside you right now. I have to be inside you.”
And really, I didn’t care either. Not in the least.
I undid his belt and unzipped his pants. He lowered his clothing enough to release his cock. Immediately I circled my hands around it. He was so hard that his veins protruded from the soft skin of his shaft.
He didn’t let me fondle him as long as I would have liked. Instead, he lifted me, my back still against the wall, and pushed into me, hard.
“Goddamn, your p-ssy is so good.” He drove into me with rapid, staccato thrusts. “Do you hear me? Your p-ssy makes me this hard. No one else’s.”
I admired his ability to talk, to be able to speak to me with such coherence while I was a puddle beneath him. And his words—his amazing words—they melted me even more. I soaked them up as I clutched onto him, as he undid me again and again.
His voice strained as he neared his climax, but still he spoke. “When we go back down to dinner, I will smell like you and you will smell like me. And you’ll remember that we are together. I am with you.”
We came together, me biting into his shoulder to suppress the scream that threatened to escape my lips, him grunting, “No one but you.”
No one but you.
I wrapped the sentiment around me like a child’s favorite blanket. If I could stay like that, stay embraced in the knowledge that I was there for him, then I could dismiss all the doubts that crept into my heart. I could forget about Stacy and her wild claims of proof. I could believe that Celia was merely a friend.
If I could believe that one statement, Hudson and I would be just fine.