“Fuck,” he growls, as his body jerks forward.
He pumps his length into me so deep that I gasp. I cry out, my body convulsing as I climax. He lets out a growl, exploding inside me as I clench my thighs around him, my aching pussy milking him dry.
“Holy shit,” he pants, his thrusts slowing until they’re almost nonexistent.
He lifts me off him and I turn around, collapsing on the bed next to him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever come harder than I have tonight,” he mutters.
Out of breath, I smile. I lie there in his arms, feeling happy, but in the back of my mind, I’m worried. The feelings I have for him are growing stronger every day. Along with them, the seeds of doubt begin to grow too. Even if we do have a child, I’m never going to know if his feelings for me are real.
Is he with me for the money, or is it more for him too? I want to ask him so many questions, but I can’t bring myself to do it. The fear of knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way is too much for me to handle.
It will be fine. Things will work out.
When the time is right, you’ll know if his feelings are genuine or not.
Rolling over, I close my eyes, trying to convince myself that is true.
But the doubt is still there. It will always be there.
And there isn’t a single thing I can do to make it go away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hudson
“Well, good morning,” I croon.
Valentina smiles at me, her eyes still sleepy as she nestles closer to me. I wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her neck, my mouth eventually finding its way to her ear. She giggles as I nibble away and suck on her earlobe. She grinds against me, which of course drives me crazy.
I’ve been awake for hours, just lying in bed next to her, watching her sleep. Once or twice it occurred to me that I should get up and do something useful, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it in fear of waking her. Besides, I can think of worse ways to waste my time than watching her sleep. I think I’ve memorized every tiny detail of her face, right down to the tiny freckle hiding behind her right earlobe.
Eventually, I sit up, dragging myself away from the warmth of her embrace.
“You stay here,” I instruct. “I’ll get us some coffee.”
She nods her agreement, her eyes on me as I slide out from between the sheets, and then she rolls over, snuggling into my pillow. I’m pretty sure she’s fallen back asleep before I’ve even left the room.
Out in the kitchen, I put on some coffee, then I get the bright idea to make her breakfast. Halfway in, I start to regret it, because as much as I like to think otherwise, I’m really not that good of a cook. I pick up the rubber-like disc that is supposed to be a waffle and scowl at it.
My new nemesis.
“One day I will defeat you,” I threaten.
“What is that?”
I turn around to find V leaning against the door frame, wearing my shirt. Fuck, it looks good on her. My cock throbs as she walks over to me, giggling to herself.
“Thought I told you to stay in bed,” I grumble.
“Is that a waffle?” she asks, her eyes bright with amusement. She walks over and picks it up, dissolving into laughter. “Oh my god, that’s the worst looking waffle I’ve ever seen.”
“Shh, or you’ll hurt his feelings.” I frown at her, cradling my waffle against my chest.
“I’m sorry, but it sucks,” she reiterates, standing her ground.
“You think you can do better?” I hand her the spatula. “Then go right ahead.”
She takes the batter from me and opens the hot waffle iron, carefully spooning the mixture into the plate. She closes it and gives me a smug look.
“I hope you’re prepared to be impressed,”—she crosses her arms over her chest and leans her hip against the counter—“because I make a mean waffle.”
“Even if this turns out well, don’t forget it's my mixture,” I remind her. “That means I get half the credit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. Everyone knows the art is in the cooking. Anyone can whip up a batter. It’s getting a perfectly crisp, golden shell that’s the hard part.”
I push aside the bowl and pull her into my arms. She shrieks as I hoist her onto the kitchen counter and nestle between her legs. I slide my hands up over her thighs, her shirt rising in the process.
“Really? Then maybe you and I can whip up a batter of our own,” I murmur in her ear.
“Are you serious? Did you really just say that to me?” she gasps between fits of laughter.
“Yep.” I nod, owning it. “I totally did. Are you turned on?”
“With your waffle lingo?” she mocks. “Hardly.”
“Harsh.” I wince. “Since when are you so hard to please, anyway?”
“Are you calling me easy?” she accuses.
“Only when it comes to me. And waffles,” I add as an afterthought.
I kiss her, circling my tongue around hers. She presses her mouth against mine, until the shrill alarm of the waffle iron rings out.
“It’s D day.” I chuckle.
We stand in front of the iron, and on the count of three, I lift the lid to reveal a sticky, gooey mess. V gasps and looks at me, her eyes wide. I burst out laughing.
“It’s all in the cooking, huh?”
“Hey, obviously you screwed up the mixture somewhere along the line,” she retorts.
“Anyone can make a batter,” I say, mimicking her tone.
“Except you, obviously.” She starts getting defensive, but then she groans. “Where did it go so wrong?” She looks around, but then waves her hand dismissively. “Who needs homemade waffles anyway. That's what a waffle house is for, right? I’m going to have a shower.”
She flounces out of the kitchen and heads to the bathroom, leaving me to clean up her mess in the kitchen. Once I've scraped the mixture off the pan, I try again, this time producing one perfectly cooked waffle.
I save it for her—and not just to show off my mad skills, but also, because I’m a nice guy.
I put on some coffee and while I'm waiting for her to get out of the shower, I decide to check my emails. I’ve been ignoring the beep of my inbox for some time now, because I know nothing good is going to be waiting for me in there. I’m right, but it’s even worse than I thought. I knew I was behind on everything, but I didn’t think we were quite at the point of pending legal action. I read through the several threatening emails from the bank. My stomach churns.
Shit. This isn’t good.
The worst thing is I have no idea how to fix it. Even if this all works out with V, it’s not a short-term solution. My business might well and truly collapse while I’m waiting to see any cash. I wish I’d considered that. My phone beeps, this time with a text. It’s Matty. I curse, because not only did the supplier checks all bounce this week, but so did the transfers I did for my guys.
Matty: Hey, heads-up, my pay isn’t in my account yet. I’m sure it’s just a glitch, but thought I’d let you know.
I fumble back a reply, agreeing it’s probably a bank glitch, and promising to check on it on Monday morning. At least that buys me an extra day. Not that it’s going to help me much. The panic is really setting in now. Dodging my suppliers is one thing, but my workers? They’re not going to put up with not being paid.
I run my hand through my hair, not sure what to do.
“Is everything okay?”
I look up and smile at V as she walks into the kitchen. She looks good in tight jeans and a white shirt, through which I can make out the outline of her bra. I shove my phone in my pocket.
“Sure. Just checking some orders for work,” I lie. “Here. I made you this.”
I smirk and push the waffle across the counter to her.
She laughs. “Okay, so maybe my failed attempt had a little bit to do with my cooking,” she begrudgingly admits. “Are you sure you're okay?” she asks, turning her attention back to me. “You
look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her, not wanting to dampen her good mood with my money troubles. “So, what do you want to do today? I’m all yours,” I say, changing the subject.
Spending the day with her will at least take my mind off my problems.
“Really?” She wriggles her eyebrows at me. “I have an idea.” She wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me in for a kiss which I’m only too happy to give her. “We should plan our wedding.”
“What are you thinking?” I study her face so I can gauge how she’s really feeling about everything. “We don’t have to elope if it’s not what you want. I know it’s a marriage of convenience, but if you want a big wedding, we can do that.”
“Are you kidding?” She hoots. “I’d elope with you tomorrow if you asked me to. I’d get married in the courthouse. Whatever. I don’t care.”
“Then why don’t we?” I suggest, an idea forming in my head.
“What? The courthouse?” she asks, confused.
“All of it. The courthouse. Tomorrow. Let’s do this,” I say. “Why wait?”
Her eyes dance as they lock on mine. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
***
We spend the rest of the afternoon working out the details of our wedding, including booking the courthouse and asking Holly if she’ll be our witness.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Holly squeals, dancing around us. “Of course I’ll be your witness. I’m so happy for you guys.”
I laugh, her reaction pretty much exactly how I imagined it was going to be, right down to the group hug she insists on having.
“Calm down, Holly. It’s just—”
“I know, you’re doing this because you have to,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. “It’s got nothing to do with the fact that you actually like each other.”
I glance at Valentina, who busies herself with her phone. I’m not sure if she’s genuinely distracted or just avoiding Holly’s statement.
“I better go,” she finally announces. “I still need to try on my dress and choose my shoes.” I get up to leave with her, but she stops me.
“And where are you going?” she interrogates me.
“Uh, home with you?” Somehow I know that’s not going to be an option.
“No.” She puts her hands against my chest and shakes her head firmly. “You’re not. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding?”
“Fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I know better than to argue with her on this one. “Do I at least get a kiss?” I call out before she opens the door.
She rolls her eyes but relents, sashaying back over to me. I caress her face, kissing her slowly and deliberately, stretching the moment out as long as I can, then I follow her to the door, closing it behind her. Holly lifts her eyebrows, like she’s waiting for me to say something.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Do I get a kiss,” she mimics.
“Not with an attitude like that you don’t.” I catch the cushion she tosses at me and place it back on the couch. “What do you want me to say? I was just being nice and walking her out.”
“Bullshit.” Holly crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing. “When are you going to admit you like her?”
“I have no trouble at all admitting that,” I say honestly.
Holly’s eyes widen. “Wow,” she marvels. “And V?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know how she feels.”
“You could ask her,” Holly suggests.
“I could,” I agree. “The problem is, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Valentina
I’m getting married.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, a flutter of nervousness rushing through me. It’s quickly replaced with excitement, though, when I think about what this means. Hudson and I will be married, and we will be one step closer to having the family I’ve always dreamed of.
I smile, thinking about what a crazy ride it’s been. This isn’t how I expected it to happen at all. I always thought I’d have the big wedding, with all the dazzle and money. The funny thing is, though, I wouldn’t change any of this. Not even who I am marrying.
I take a deep breath and then walk out into the room where Holly is waiting for me.
We’re at the courthouse, about to go in before the judge and get married. I insisted on Hudson not seeing me in my dress before our big moment.
I wander over to Holly, smoothing my dress out with my hand along the way. A flutter of nerves hit me as I catch sight of my reflection in the window. Holly smiles at me, her eyes welling with tears.
“You look beautiful,” she whispers. “That dress is stunning on you.”
I glance down at the ivory satin gown. It was pure luck that I found it yesterday. The moment I walked into the store after I saw it in the window, I knew it was the one. It was like it was made for me. I didn't even need to try on anything else. It's not the huge, puffy dress I always thought I’d want. It’s understated and elegant, sophisticated in its own unique way.
It's everything I am.
“Thanks,” I hug her. “And thanks for being here with me.”
“Are you kidding?” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
It means everything having her there with me, especially with my father in jail.
I tried to see him this morning, but once again, he refused. I even had the guard tell him I was getting married. I thought for sure that would be enough to change his mind, but it wasn’t. I was angry at first, but then I told myself I wasn’t going to let him ruin my day. Wow. Listen to me. Anyone would think I was getting married for real, rather than just to meet the requirements of my grandmother’s arrangement.
Holly takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I take a deep breath, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. I guess I'm fooling myself if I try to say that it isn't real for me on every level.
What I feel for Hudson is real. I can't deny that.
Nor can I think, even for a moment, that he might not feel the same way. That would hurt too much. I know there's a strong possibility my feelings are one-sided, but it’s not something I’m ready to find out. I’ve never asked him if he really feels something for me, because I’m not sure I could handle the rejection. Especially when we’re still trying to do this whole having a baby thing.
As Holly and I walk into the courtroom, Hudson comes into view. He stands at the front, dressed in a dark charcoal suit, his hair perfectly styled. My heart races because he looks so good. He turns around when he hears the doors open, the look in his eyes when they fixate on mine nearly blowing me away. I make my way up the front to him, feeling every bit of the nervous bride I probably look like.
“You look incredible.”
His voice is low and gravelly and as Holly steps back, he takes my hand. Lightning jolts through me at the feel of his touch. I turn to the judge and smile. Real or not, I’m ready for this. I’m ready for everything.
“You two are here to declare your love for each other,” the judge begins. “Where I’ll be joining you both together in marriage. Do you both agree that you’re here willingly and this is what you want?”
I don't even have to think about it.
“Yes,” I say with a firm nod.
“Yes, I do,” Hudson murmurs.
The judge nods, satisfied.
“Then I declare you legally married.”
I laugh at how easy it was. Just like that, we’re married.
We all sign the license, then he hands us a copy, congratulating us on our marriage. I’m so happy. Even though it's not the big wedding I’d always dreamed of, it feels right.
We leave the courthouse and go out for dinner. Holly makes an excuse not to join us, but I beg her, until she agrees to at least join us for a drink. We go to a small bar just a few blocks down from my apartment. I’m tired and all I really want i
s to go home and curl up with Hudson, but I feel like we owe at least some kind of celebration to Holly.
“I find it hard to believe that two have nothing better to do than drink with me,” Holly teases.
“There’s plenty I can think of that I’d rather be doing.” Hudson cracks. “And I can guarantee that none of it involves my sister.”
“Oh, come on, we’re married. We have to celebrate that, right?” I protest, even though I know I’m fighting a losing battle.
“I thought the whole idea of eloping was to get out of the celebrations?” Holly interjects. Hudson nods his agreement, while I throw my hands up in defeat.
“Fine, I give up. Take me home, then.” I say to my husband. I give Holly another hug, silently thanking her for letting us get out of here. “Thanks again for everything, Hols. I appreciate it. We both do.”
“Anytime,” Holly whispers, wiping away tears. “And if you need someone in there when you give birth, let me know. I’ll happily be your person.”
“Hold up a second, aren’t I her person?” Hudson interjects.
“Yes. But you’re also the adult male who fainted last year when I got a papercut,” Holly reminds him.
I stifle a chuckle and then look at Hudson for confirmation.
“Well, there was a lot of blood for a papercut,” he says defensively.
“I’m sure there was,” I coo in the most patronizing voice I can muster.
We go outside and part ways with Holly. Hudson and I opt to walk the short distance to the apartment for our first evening together as a married couple. I’m still wearing my dress, but my feet have given up on the ten-inch heels I’d insisted on wearing. I slip them off and carry them, taking extra care where I step as I press my feet against the cool, damp pavement.
“I could carry you home,” Hudson offers.
I toss him a look. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine. I used to go everywhere barefoot when I was a kid.”
“Why?” He looks disgusted. “Have you seen how much shit is on this pavement?” he asks, shaking his head. “Next you’ll be telling me you like walking in the rain.”
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