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 pussy 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.
Chapter Seventeen
Streams of sunlight poured through the windows, warming and waking me up earlier than I would have on my usual sleep schedule. Before looking, I sensed I was alone. When I turned, I squinted at the clock on the nightstand next to where Hudson should have been sleeping. Nine-twenty-seven.
I blinked several times, adjusting my eyes, while I considered whether I wanted to get up and search for my lover or roll over and go back to sleep. I still hadn’t made a decision when the doors opened to the bedroom and Hudson appeared wearing nothing but black silk pajama bottoms and carrying a breakfast tray.
“Good, you’re awake,” he said as I sat up, the smell of coffee luring me further out of sleep. “I’m showing my family what an awesome boyfriend I am by bringing you breakfast in bed. Omelets. Sans mushrooms, of course. No cherry-flavored blow pops.” He winked as he set the tray on the table in the sitting area.
“This is one of those inappropriate moments for a blow pop anyway. And you should have said amazingly awesome boyfriend. Breakfast in bed is the best.” Though the thing making my mouth water was the never tiresome sight of Hudson barefoot and shirtless.
“I’m not that awesome.” He left the tray and untied the string of his PJs, letting them fall to the ground, exposing his beautifully erect penis. He slid under the covers and climbed over me. “I’m going to make you eat it cold.”
Befor
e his kiss prevented me from speech or thought I mumbled, “Cold breakfast sounds perfect.”
It was almost noon before we were ready to dress for the day. Hudson had offered to draw me a bath to soak my sex sore limbs, but I opted for a shared shower, wanting to extend our intimacy as long as possible before we were on-duty again.
After we’d dried and dressed—Hudson in khaki pants and polo, me in a cream sundress—he left me to take our dirty dishes down while I finished primping. I chose to sweep my hair into a ponytail, an easy and quick option, so I could follow him shortly, though the idea of hiding out in the bedroom as long as I could, had crossed my mind. Truth was, as much as I didn’t want to face Sophia, I wanted to be with Hudson more.
Not knowing my way around the house yet, I headed first to the kitchen, hopeful that he’d still be there. I paused outside the swinging kitchen door when I heard voices—Hudson’s and Sophia’s.
“—didn’t invite you so you could stay in your room all day and fuck like bunnies,” Sophia was saying.
Yeah, I wasn’t walking in yet. I pressed my ear to the door, listening.
“Then why did you invite us?” Hudson’s voice was calm, his ability to smoothly wield his mother impressing me. Was Sophia the first woman he’d mastered? Had he practiced his skills of manipulation on her? Was our elaborate scheme to fool her now a substitute for the games he’d played on other women?
I wasn’t judging him for any of it. Just curious.
“I invited you because I think she—any woman you involve yourself with, for that matter—has a right to be protected. Has a right to know.”
“Her name is Alayna, Mother.” He surprised me with the sharpness of his tone. “And she already knows.” He laughed gruffly. “I love how you believe no one could possibly feel something for me because of who I was in the past.”
My chest tightened, ached for what I knew Hudson must be feeling. Brian had held my mistakes over me as well, always doubting that I could ever be better. The lack of familial support made healing all the more difficult.
Maybe Hudson and I could be strength for each other. It was a dangerous thought, putting too much importance into our solely physical relationship, but who was I kidding? I’d long passed the moment when my emotions had entered into the picture. What was the point of fighting it longer?
Maybe we could be...more.
I’d missed some of the conversation, lost in my own head, but Sophia’s raised voice drew me back. “—can’t understand how you could tell her? What if she exposes you? Exposes us? Our family doesn’t need that kind of scandal.”
“My life is more than a scandal waiting to happen, Mother.”
“Your life is a series of scandals. Scandals that your father and I are continuously cleaning up. Your bartender whore is just the next scandal.”
Even though I’d promised myself to not let her get to me, Sophia’s insult was a punch in the gut. My eyes stung, but before tears could form, Hudson’s defense softened the blow.
“Don’t you dare talk about Alayna like that again. If you do, I—“
“Finding out anything good?”
I jumped away from the door, the unfamiliar male’s voice behind me both startling and shaming me for being caught eavesdropping. I forced my eyes to his and blushed even deeper. The chiseled face was more attractive in person than in the pictures I’d seen on the Internet, and the resemblance to his son so striking it was almost eerie, as if I were viewing Hudson thirty years in the future. He looked younger than the sixty years I knew him to be, his frame trim with only a slight paunch, and his features striking against his goatee and long salt and peppered hair.
Hudson’s father cocked his head and stroked his goatee, a gesture that seemed so natural I imagined he frequently employed it. “I’m judging by the look on your face that you already know who I am.”
“Yes. You’re Jonathan Pierce.”
“And you…hmm…don’t tell me…” He looked me over in such a way that I knew he appreciated what he saw, yet I didn’t feel ogled. “You’re a little old for Chandler, and Mira doesn’t ever pick friends who are prettier than her. That leaves Hudson. I’d heard a rumor he was dating someone, but I never imagined it was true.”
His tone was charming and easy, a hint of a drawl revealing his Texas roots. His manner relaxed me even though I’d been caught in an embarrassing situation. “I’m Hudson’s girlfriend, Alayna Withers.” I held my hand out to him. “But please call me Laynie, Mr. Pierce.”
He took my hand with both of his and held it as he spoke. “My friends call me Jack, and I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.” He patted my hand, the action managing to stay just on the right side of the okay/creepy line. When he let go, he nodded his head toward the kitchen. “Who’s in there anyway?”
A guilty smile lined my lips. “Hudson and your wife.”
Jack rolled his head dramatically. “Please refrain from reminding me I’m married to that woman.” His eye twinkled mischievously. “We obviously don’t want to go in there. Have you been given a tour of Mabel Shores?”
“Mabel Shores?”
“If Hudson hasn’t told you the name of this house, he’s certainly not given you a tour. How lucky that I’m available to do the honor.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we?”
I hesitated only a second, Jack’s charismatic demeanor impossible to turn down. Besides, Hudson had said our sham was meant to convince both his parents. Spending time with his father could only be beneficial to the cause. And the truth was, though I knew Hudson expected me, postponing my next face-to-face with Sophia sounded like an excellent idea.
Jack leisurely led me through the house, providing historical and architectural trivia spattered with the occasional humorous anecdote. The main floor featured a spacious living room, library, gym, and a media room as well as two guestrooms. The décor remained traditional throughout, but very up-to-date and stylish.
He ignored showing me the upstairs, stating that there wasn’t much to see besides the bedrooms. We also avoided the dining room and kitchen, slipping out the French doors in the office on the opposite side of the house to explore the grounds instead.
We talked easily throughout the tour, Jack’s charm never faltering. Though he was more than twice my age and the father of my lover, I adored him and his shameless flirting. He was harmless and fun and much more pleasant than I’d ever imagined a renowned businessman could be. I began to piece together the Pierce family, understanding Mira’s welcoming personality now that I’d met Jack. I could even spot what Hudson had inherited, recognizing his magnetism and sexual prowess came from his father. And the playfulness that Hudson occasionally adopted—that was his dad.
When we’d circled most of the east gardens and were headed back toward the house, Jack grew somewhat serious. “So you and Hudson…that’s a pleasant surprise.”
“I’m not sure that I want to know what’s surprising about us.”
“Nothing bad. Hudson doesn’t date much. I’m glad to see that the girl he finally brought home is someone as delightful as you. I hope it sticks.”
I smiled. “Thank you.” I savored my next words as I said them, relishing the sweetness of their honesty. “I’m quite stuck on the man. I’ve fallen for him pretty hard.”
Jack stared at me, reading my face. “Yes, I believe you have. That’s wonderful. Truly.”
His sincerity was touching, and a rush of emotion surged in my chest. It felt good to have someone rooting for our fake relationship. It validated my growing belief in the possibility of more.
My confidence was short-lived, however, Jack’s next words reminding me of the barriers lying between Hudson and myself. “What was Sophia saying about you? I’ve been dying to ask.”
“When? Oh.” I turned away, pretending to admire the purple grapelike flowers lining the cobblestone path.
He pushed gently, understanding lacing his words. “It had to be not very nice. You were ashen when I found you.”
I sighed, thinking how best to sum up what I’d overheard and how it made me feel. “She doesn’t like me.”
Jack shrugged. “Sophia doesn’t like anyone.” He didn’t bother to hide his own disdain for the woman, and I wondered how he had ended up with her in the first place. “But I imagine she especially doesn’t like you. Which is why it’s so delicious that I do.”
Shaking my head, I ignored his teasing. “Is it because of me or because of Hudson?”
“The reasons I like you have absolutely nothing to do with Hudson.”
I leveled a stern look in Jack’s direction. “I was talking about Sophia—your wife. Why does she especially not like me?”
Jack stroked his goatee and resumed walking toward the house. “It isn’t you.”
Bartender whore. I followed him, Sophia’s earlier remarks resounding again in my head. “Really? I bet she’d welcome Celia into Hudson’s arms.”
“Because she adores Celia. Always has.”
We’d reached the veranda at the back of the house where Jack gestured to sit. I sank into a cushy loveseat and curled my feet up underneath me. “Doesn’t she want Hudson to be happy?”
Jack took the chair across from me, a small wooden table separating us. It was his turn to sigh. “She doesn’t want anyone to be happy. Particularly Hudson. They’ve had many battles in a lifelong war, and she’s not a forgiving woman.”
Again I thought of my relationship with Brian. As much of a pain in the ass that he’d been lately, I couldn’t say I didn’t understand why. He and I had suffered our own battles and the wounds ran deep. And I wasn’t Brian’s child. I imagined the dynamic between us would be so much worse if I were. Also, though my brother could be domineering, neither he nor I could compare to the battle of wills demonstrated by Hudson and Sophia.
I rested my head back against the loveseat and stared at the rough textured concrete ceiling. “Then there’s no way to win her over?”
Complete Fixed: The Complete Fixed Series: Books 1-5 Page 19