by Lara Norman
He panted against her lips as he pulled away. “This is stupid and dangerous and reckless.”
“Yes.”
“I'm going to regret this.”
“I hope not.”
“I'm going to need to spend a night with you again soon, but nobody can know.”
“I can't. I have RA checks.”
He dropped his forehead to hers. She had RA checks because she was a fucking freshman. “Jesus. All day then. When?”
“Anytime.”
“This Saturday.”
“Tell me where and I’ll be there.”
“You'd better prepare yourself. I’ve held back until now, but no longer.”
She whimpered.
Chapter Eleven
Hudson was vibrating after his encounter with Reagan. He wanted her again; wanted her in all the ways he shouldn't. His strength had failed him, his resolve had flown out the window, and all it took was her seeking him out. He tried to remember why it was a bad idea to be involved with her, but he didn't want to focus on that. He would merely make sure they were never seen together, that was all. He didn't live that close to the campus, and nobody from the university lived in his complex as far as he knew. She admitted that she only wanted him for sex, and that was fine by him. It was perfect.
On Friday, he found himself at the grocery store after his last class buying the ingredients to make her a nice dinner the following day. He picked up a bottle of his favorite wine and then frowned, slowly placing it back where it belonged. She was only eighteen. He was picturing a long-term agreement full of no commitments, just sex, and there he was buying groceries and wine like it would be a relationship. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that suddenly filled it about how that wouldn't be a bad thing. He didn't need her to be his girlfriend to have fun with her or even to cook for her.
He checked out and went home, planning on putting the food away and cleaning the apartment. He wanted to wash the sheets and couldn't help looking at his furniture in a new light. His headboard was well-suited for some light bondage, for example. He was highly anticipating the next day.
A knock on the door as he was stripping the bed surprised him. He wasn't expecting anybody. He went to open it and then just stood there in shock.
“Hudson! I thought I’d surprise you since you live close to my apartment now.”
He stared in disbelief at his father’s form filling his doorway. He had an overnight bag with him.
“You could have called. My number hasn't changed.”
“Oh, nonsense, then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? Your mother gave me your address. Did you know you’re only an hour from me now?”
Oliver brushed past his son, who was still standing there stunned. All of his plans for the weekend just went up in smoke. He tried desperately to focus on the senator as visions of Reagan tied to his bed flew out the window.
Oliver was tall; six feet and three inches to be exact. His hair was darker than his son’s, a deep chocolate brown that waved at his temples. Hudson knew for a fact that his father dyed the gray streaks to appear younger. He also sported blue eyes; Hudson had inherited his mother’s coloring in all things, but his father’s height and general build. Though it irked him to hear it, he also had his father’s domineering personality. Hudson didn’t want to take after Oliver Clark; he could barely stand the man’s presence.
“Why on earth would you want to stay with me?”
“Well, it’s mostly your mother’s doing.” Oliver set his bag on the white leather couch and looked around the well-appointed living room. “Camilla claims we don’t spend enough time bonding.”
Hudson raised his brows as Oliver turned back to face him. “Have you found my home to be up to your standards?”
“It’ll do.” Oliver clapped his hands once. “Now, let’s find a place to eat. I’m famished.”
Hudson’s jaw clenched, but he figured it was better to go along than to spend a useless ten minutes arguing when he knew the outcome. Senator Clark always got his way.
Hudson pulled his coat from the closet and grabbed his keys off the hall table before wrenching open the door. “After you,” he said with ice in his voice. He found his father’s detail in a dark limousine in his complex’s parking lot. There were men in the car as well as outside of it, supposedly keeping an eagle eye out for danger.
The next few hours were spent with his teeth grinding together and a tension headache firmly rooted in his skull. He drank more than he had in the entire time since moving to College Park, but the number one rule of dealing with his sperm donor was to keep a drink in hand. Oliver kept up a near-constant stream of one-sided conversation revolving around himself. What he was doing in D.C., who he was influencing, which policies he pretended to care about the most, and which he was hell-bent on keeping off the Senate floor. Oliver was paid handsomely by several special interest groups, something that rubbed his only child the wrong way. After years of trying to debate with his father and show him where he was going wrong, he’d simply given up. It wasn't that Oliver didn’t know he was crooked, it was that he didn't care. He was of the thinking that the end justified the means.
Though he enjoyed the meal—Oliver paid, of course—Hudson was eager to get home and find an excuse to go to bed early. He claimed he had work to do, and that was one thing his father understood above anything. Work was vitally important. After ensuring Oliver had what he needed in the guest room, Hudson stood in the doorway to his own room and stared at the bed.
The sheets were pooled at the foot of the mattress where he’d been in the process of taking them off before the unexpected visitor came to his door. Sighing, he moved to fix the bed so he could sleep in it. Images of Reagan in his bed were overshadowed by the presence of the senator. Nobody could make him feel as insufficient as his own flesh and blood. Nobody could reduce his accomplishments down to utter inadequacy quite the same way as Senator fucking Clark.
Since his desk was in the guest room, Hudson had brought his laptop into his bedroom. He sat on the now made-up bed and tried to find a comfortable position as he turned it on and brought up the latest tests he needed to grade. Time spent alone meant his headache eased and he found himself feeling worn out. He’d been right from the beginning; he needed to focus on work and advancing his career. Hudson could drive home his failures just the same as his father. He was a failure until he succeeded in earning tenure, period. Anything less was a weak excuse, less than what was expected of a South Carolina Clark. Growing up with the intense scrutiny placed on his family didn't make it any easier to deal with. It affected his everyday actions, his small decisions, and his major life goals. It permeated his psyche until he felt worthless without having something to show for himself. There was constantly someone one step ahead, someone with more accomplishments, more to boast about in regards to their career. Hudson hadn’t gone into politics, medicine, or law. He didn’t marry a debutante with the proper last name to strengthen the genes. He wasn’t what his father wanted him to be, and he would never live it down.
Eventually, he put away the laptop and tried to sleep. Oliver would be awake at six expecting breakfast. He didn’t know what to do with himself when there wasn’t staff of some sort around. Hudson wondered if the security detail had switched shifts in the night and which ones were allowed to go home and sleep and which ones had to stay behind to protect the life of his father. He doubted any of them had been tasked with making Oliver’s eggs in the morning. His thoughts made it impossible to fall asleep, going back over what had been said at dinner. His mother wanted him and his father to spend more time together. It hadn’t seemed important when Hudson was a child. There was no playing catch, no learning to ride a bike, no building a race car track. Not with Oliver, at least. Hudson had done those things with the hired help. Between nannies, private tutors, and finally prep school, he’d learned what he needed to survive, but he’d never thrived.
The only time he felt alive was when he was in co
ntrol in the bedroom. He knew it was something that would be looked down upon in his family’s social circle, so he was always careful with which women he would shared his proclivities. Sometimes, he just wanted to stand up at the dinner table and announce that he was sick to death of being a Clark. All the pressure to be perfect, to be someone he was not, and never would be, was too much. Not being free to share himself with women in the way that he preferred, having to keep his pleasure a secret, was one more way he’d been suppressed. He should be used to it by that point, but he foolishly assumed that moving to a new state meant he’d gain some autonomy. Instead, he felt like the same teenage boy being told he would never add up if he didn’t follow in his father’s esteemed footsteps.
In the wee hours of the morning, he couldn't avoid sleep any longer. His dreams were filled with a strange combination of his parents, his colleagues, and a curvy blonde. When his alarm went off he groaned, realizing that he’d not only planned to sleep in originally but that he’d expected to be texting Reagan his address to spend the day with her. None of that would be happening. Hopefully, his father would tire of the charade of enjoying his son’s company and he’d be on his way before much of Saturday had passed.
Hudson went to the kitchen and started the process of making a full breakfast. He was lucky he had all the senator’s favorites. He didn't dwell on the fact that they were also his favorites, though he didn't have them every day. Eggs over easy, toast, and bacon went on china plates as Oliver walked into the living room.
“Morning, Hudson. You remembered.”
It was the closest to a compliment he would receive, and it was about the same as the staff was generally given. He poured coffee in two mugs and joined his father at the table.
“What are your plans for the day?” Oliver asked as he cut into his eggs, letting the yolk ooze onto a toast point.
“I was going to clean the apartment.”
“Maybe one day you’ll make enough money to afford to hire staff to do that for you.”
Hudson clenched his jaw and made an effort to loosen it enough to eat. Typical.
“I wondered if you’d give me a tour of your campus.”
“Sure, Father.”
It was exactly what he’d hoped he wouldn't have to do. Spending his day surrounded by a pompous asshole and no less than five security men.
“It’s not too much to ask, is it? After all, you’ve determined that this is what you’re going to waste your life on. You might as well show me what’s so special about it.”
Counting to ten and breathing deeply wasn't going to work this time. “It's not a waste, Father. It's what I want to do with my life. It is my life, despite your opinion to the contrary.”
“Don't raise your blood pressure, son. Eat your breakfast.”
The headache from the evening before popped back up and Hudson knew his day was ruined before it really began.
Chapter Twelve
Reagan was trying to pretend that she wasn't expecting a text at any minute, but she was failing. Luna invited her to breakfast at a local diner, and though she tried to focus on what her friend was saying, Reagan kept glancing at the phone by her elbow. There was no message. Still.
“Ray? You’re not even listening to me.”
“I’m sorry. Really.” She ignored the blank phone screen, turning it over and focusing on Luna. She’d gotten an internship and she’d been telling Reagan how the past week had gone for her. It was clear how much she enjoyed it by the way her face lit up as she talked about the kids. Davis had sent flowers for her first day, though he was smart enough to send them to her apartment at the end of the day and not to the middle school. Otherwise, Luna would have been too embarrassed by the attention to appreciate them. He knew her in some ways, it seemed.
Reagan’s mind was wandering again. Hudson promised he would send her his address on Friday night or Saturday morning, but they hadn't agreed on a time or anything. Reagan figured she had plenty of time to have breakfast and still go back to her dorm and shower and shave—again. She’d shaved the night before, but she knew she'd do it again. Her body was practically throbbing with the anticipation coursing through her veins. She was in a state of perpetual need ever since she’d let Hudson get in her pants months ago. She realized that what she'd been missing from high school boys was their general lack of knowledge and maturity. She needed a man that could match her strengths and desires, and she’d been surrounded by weak boys all along.
“I’m so happy for you, Luna. It sounds like exactly what you needed. I hope I get as lucky when I get that far.”
Luna grinned, and Reagan knew she’d said the right thing. “It was tiring, especially squeezing in classes and the last soccer game of the season, but it’s been the best week.”
“It was a great game, too,” Reagan said. She and Davis had been in the front row of the bleachers to watch Luna win the last home game.
“It feels good to be done with it, though. All the practices and strength training taking up so much time. Now I might have a minute to relax.” She laughed. “Or maybe not, now that I have an internship to keep me busy.”
“Still, it’s the type of real-world experience you need, and you’ll enjoy it.”
Luna smiled and let out a little sigh. “You’re right.”
“Oh! Grant wanted to know if you’d come home with me for Thanksgiving. I don’t know what you normally do.” Reagan sipped her coffee and watched Luna’s facial expressions as she thought it over.
“It would be nice. I don't typically go home due to the cost. I’ve never gone with Davis because I’m terrified to meet his family. I’d love to go with you, but I’ll split the cost of gas.”
Reagan bounced in her seat. “That’s awesome. I can’t wait.”
When they were done eating and there was still no text, Reagan accepted Luna’s offer to see a movie. They hadn't done anything so relaxing and normal since the beginning of school.
When they stepped out of the theater and blinked in the bright sun, Reagan waited for her phone to power back on and was pissed to not have any new messages. She should have been worried, but she wasn’t even surprised. It seemed that Hudson was just the type to freak out and renege on their plans.
“Can I hang out with you the rest of the day?” she asked Luna. “It looks like I’m completely free.”
Luna agreed, as Reagan knew she would, and they hung out at Luna’s apartment for the remainder of the afternoon. Reagan never heard a word from Hudson.
When Monday rolled around and she still hadn’t heard so much as an apology for not contacting her on Saturday or Sunday, she dressed carefully for class in her tightest jeans and a cute top. She took her coat off in the hall before she reached her lit comp class, fluffing out her long hair and making sure she looked her best. If he thought he could ignore her, she was determined to make it damn difficult for him to succeed. She turned in the work she’d completed Friday afternoon and sauntered past the table where Hudson was sitting. His head popped up as she passed, and she smiled triumphantly. She was more than happy to return the favor and pay him no attention.
She felt his eyes on her for most of the class. He tried to play it nonchalantly, but every time she glanced up from her notes she found him watching her. She kept her head down as much as possible so he wouldn't think she was the one doing the staring. She couldn't believe that she’d recently thought of him as a strong man that had his shit together. He was a scared little boy, and it was Reagan that scared him.
She breezed out of the classroom as soon as the minute hand reached the hour. She didn't stop as she passed him, just kept going to her next class.
The fall break was the perfect reason to get away and hopefully gain some clarity. Reagan picked Luna up outside her dorm and headed south. She was ecstatic to see Grant again after being away from him for the longest she could remember in her life. Having learned her lesson when she headed to college, she left earlier in the day. It was not even a three hour drive in
light traffic, and only the storm had delayed her the last time. Some days she was grateful for that storm, and some days she hated its existence and what it had come to mean for her.
Reagan felt tears spring to her eyes as she pulled into the parking lot of the apartment she and Grant shared for six years. The house they grew up in was too much to maintain, not to mention there was a mountain of debt to be paid off. The lawyer that handled their parents’ estate—such as it was—sold the house and paid off what he could. Tuckahoe was a mostly upper middle-class area of Virginia, but she and Grant lived in a low-income area. It was the best her brother could do, and Reagan appreciated him all the more for providing a roof over their heads.
She left her suitcase in the car and ran across the cracked sidewalk. Grant was coming down the stairs outside their unit as she approached, and he bounded the rest of the way down to catch her mid-air as she launched herself at him.
“Grant!”
“Oh, baby girl, I missed you so much.”
Luna followed more slowly, comforted by the obvious affection between the siblings as well as the barefoot, jeans and t-shirt wearing Grant Hughes. This was the type of family she could feel at home around.
“Hey, let me go so I can introduce you to my friend.”
Grant was taller than Reagan by a wide margin, and her words were muffled in his shirt. Still, he ruffled her hair as he released her and stood next to her as he faced the red-haired girl.
“Luna, this is my brother, Grant. Grant, this is my friend, Luna.”
“Hey. Do you hug, or . . .”
Luna smiled. “Sure.”
They tentatively hugged one another, Grant pulling away and shuffling his feet as he looked over at Reagan. “Is your stuff in the car?”
They all went back to Reagan’s car to get the girls’ things. Grant insisted on carrying all of it as he led them up the stairs and inside. Luna felt at home the minute she stepped inside and saw the sagging couch and beige carpet. It smelled heavenly, and Luna said so as Reagan hung up her coat and Grant stepped into the kitchen