HUDSON (The Beckett Boys, Book Six)

by Olivia Chase

  I listen, rapt. My phone is forgotten in my hands.

  “I’ve never had a serious relationship before,” he continues. “I’ve had sex, yes. But I never let myself…feel.” There’s a long pause. “And then I met you. And my emotions were exploding all over the place. I couldn’t deal with it.”

  My heart is hammering hard. Hudson is baring himself to me right there in the hallway of the motel, where everyone can hear him. He’s doing it to prove something to me. Can I trust it?

  He goes on. “Tonight, I realized that I have strong feelings for you. And it scared me, because for years I’ve learned how to be hard and protect myself. Which means closing off my emotions. Being with you…it undoes everything I thought I knew.” His voice is thick.

  I stand up and walk toward the door.

  “Marissa, I’m falling in love with you. I tried to fight it. But I don’t want to fight it anymore. I don’t want to be without you. I want to see you every day, smiling, your eyes shining. I want to hear your sweet voice. Smell the warmth of your skin.”

  My eyes are filled with tears now. I open the door slowly.

  Hudson stands up, facing me now. There’s a wariness in his eyes that matches my own nervousness. He reaches out, strokes my cheek. “I can’t blame you if you decide I’m too much. I’m fucked up. My life is complicated—more so than you even know. But I do know this. I don’t want to think about getting out of bed tomorrow without knowing you’ll be beside me.”

  “I…” I close my eyes, tears down my face. “I’m scared to trust you.”

  “And I gave you reason to be. I have nothing to offer you.” He moves toward me and kisses each eyelid. “You’re so fucking beautiful and I don’t deserve you. But God help me, I want to try.”

  I lean up and kiss him.

  Hudson wraps his arms around me. Not in an aggressive move. Not out of control. But just to hold me close. Our kisses are mingled with my tears, but he doesn’t say a word, just keeps stroking my back, my waist, my hair, his hands roaming all over me.

  I pull him inside and lock the door behind us.

  Neither of us speaks for a while. I take my robe off, and he removes his clothes. Then he’s touching me again, his caresses gentle.

  “I fucking couldn’t stay away from you, Marissa,” he murmurs. “I tried. God knows I tried. But my life is so much darker without you.”

  The shell around my heart shatters. “I…” I’m too scared to say what I feel. Afraid to let him have that power over me.

  Hudson kisses my mouth. “You don’t have to say it. I know I have to earn it.”

  He lays me back on the bed, our legs tangled as we kiss, touch, stroke. My body starts to burn, and I ache to have him inside me. I need to feel like this means something, that we’re moving forward. That we’re not going to take more steps backward.

  “I got a hotel room,” he says, pressing kisses to my neck. “I want you to come stay there with me.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Every night.”

  That steals the breath from my lungs. I look at him, shocked.

  “I need your face to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night,” he says.

  “I love you.” The words fly out of me before I can even think.

  Hudson stretches out on top of me, our bodies warm. I can feel his erection throbbing on my thigh, but he doesn’t push me into sex. We just relish this moment, the intimacy, the intensity of our feelings. My head is spinning, my heart full. The way he’s touching me…looking at me…it’s like all his walls are down.

  He isn’t hiding from me anymore.

  “I love you,” I whisper again.

  “I fucking need you to stay with me. Stay here in Rock Bridge,” he says. “Don’t go to California.”

  My chest tightens. He wants me with him. And honestly, I don’t know if I want to go away, either. How can I leave him behind? Not when I know I’ll be leaving my heart here too?

  Hudson leans over and grabs a condom from his pants pocket. Slides it on. Then he positions himself between my legs, pressing another soft kiss to my mouth. “I’ve fucked before,” he says, “but you’re the first one I want to make love to. The only one.”

  I’m gone. Utterly destroyed by him.

  He nudges his cock to my entrance, which is slick and ready for him. Then he slowly moves inside. Groans, stroking the back of my neck, his other hand cupping my breast and squeezing lightly. “God. You feel like heaven. You’re my heaven.”

  I lift my legs to cup the sides of his hips and welcome him deeper. Our mouths are tangled again, and he’s so gentle that it kills me. He’s right—this isn’t fucking. This is lovemaking. This is him showing me how much he wants and needs me.

  “Stay with me,” Hudson whispers, kissing my forehead as he moves in and out. “Please.”

  My orgasm builds slowly, exquisitely, a tension starting low in my belly and vibrating out. My breasts well under his hands, the way he strokes my nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

  I run my hands across his muscled back, along the lines of his tattoos on his arms. Memorizing the feel of his skin, of his muscles. I want to know him blind. I want him imprinted on my fingers.

  He picks up his pace, his breathing becoming more erratic. I find myself thrusting against him, needing him deeper. He can’t be deep enough. I want to ache for days afterward, knowing he was here with me. Inside me.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” he says against my hair.

  “Same,” I reply. I dig my nails into his shoulders.

  I can tell when he starts to near his orgasm. He tightens, his thrusts erratic, his breathing labored. Knowing I turn him on just makes me more turned on. My pussy is throbbing, my clit swollen and aching to be touched.

  He must sense it, because he removes his hand from my breast and reaches down to stroke the button. “I need your come, baby.”

  “Yes,” I reply, breathy. I am delirious with want of this man. His strokes in my pussy are pushing me to the edge.

  He speeds up with my clit, flicking it, soaking my folds with my juice.

  I’m right there. Right there… And then I’m soaring, my cries echoing off the motel walls, and he’s right behind me, stiff, jaw tense as he roars his orgasm.

  It takes me a minute to come down enough to get out of my own head. I’m drenched in pleasure, in sweat, in my come. The sheets are soaked.

  Hudson withdraws, then presses right up against me, tugging me into his arms. No hesitation. No awkwardness. He kisses my damp brow, wiping back my hair.

  I sag against him, breathing in the scent of our sex and sweat. It’s erotic. Sensual. Intimate. “Are you… Will you be…”

  I am trying to find the right way to word the question when he responds. “I want to sleep here tonight. With you, beside you. And then tomorrow, we leave this motel and stay together.”

  My smile is sleepy but genuine. “Yeah, we were loud. We’d probably get kicked out of here anyway.”

  His laugh rumbles in his chest; I feel it against my cheek. “Where we’re going to stay, no one will give a fuck how loud we are.”

  “Sounds glorious.” I rest my hand over his heart, savoring the feel of the erratic beats. My eyes drift closed, and he tugs me closer so our bodies fit together in a perfect curve.

  Everything has changed.

  Hudson

  I wake up the next morning feeling like a million bucks. Marissa is turned away from me, her ass pressed against my raging erection, her hair mussed and spread across the pillow.

  It’s a luxury, stroking her naked skin while she’s sleeping. I can’t believe I almost fucked this up because of my panic and fear. I would have been missing out on so much. On her. On the possibility of a future together.

  She stirs a little, giving a light moan of pleasure but not waking. I just quietly watch her, my gaze tracing her features, the shell of her ear, the line of her throat, her shoulders and curves. How her feet press against my calf a
s she’s curled up, like she needs to be touching me with a body part even when unconscious.

  It warms me.

  Warms me and arouses me. My cock is standing at full attention, ready to be touched too.

  So I slide my fingers along her ribcage, down to cup her belly and stroke. Her breathing gets a little faster, and I feel her starting to awaken. I drift lower, stroking her mound; she shifts onto her back and looks at me with sleep-filled eyes.

  When her hand moves across my thigh to grip my cock, I move. Straddle her. I can’t wait. I start to nudge her entrance then stop. Fuck. I need a condom.

  “I’m…” She pauses, a light blush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat. “Um, I’m clean, and I have an implant, so…”

  I’m so fucking hard I can barely breathe. “Are you sure?” I’ve never barebacked a woman before. Just the thought makes me want to come.

  With her nod, I let my dick press into her. Oh, fucking sweet Jesus, she’s so hot and wet and tight, and the way her cunt sheathes me drives me insane. I groan, forcing myself to go slowly as long as I can, to relish the sensation.

  Then her nails dig into my ass as she tugs me all the way in, her back arched, neck exposed to me.

  I can’t hold it back. I bite her delicate throat, savoring her groans, and pump in her. It’s a thousand times better than I dreamed it could be. My dick is so hard and sensitive right now.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she cries out. “That…feels so good…”

  “Yes, it does,” I agree. I fuck Marissa—pound her relentlessly, my cock shoving along her walls, and when she gasps and then screams, I keep riding her until her orgasm ebbs. Fuck, mine is so close.

  “Come in me,” she begs me, and those delicious nails drag up my back, setting me on fire, along with her words.

  I jackhammer her as my balls tighten and my muscles get stiff, and then I’m spilling into her, endlessly, soaking that beautiful pussy with my cream, feeling like I’m living and dying at the same time.

  After we’re done, I pull out and swipe my fingers along her pussy, which is dripping with my come. “That’s so fucking hot,” I say.

  She swallows. “We definitely have to do that again. Soon.”

  And we will. She’s going to be in my hotel room tonight—fuck. This is what I have to look forward to? I’m beyond lucky. I kiss her brow. “I’ll see you at work tonight, okay? I gotta go shower and change at home, since I don’t have any clean clothes with me.” I pull back and look her in the eyes.

  Her skin is flushed from our sex, from her chest up her throat and across her cheeks. Her hair is mussed, and her lips are swollen. I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful in my life. I wish I could stay here in this bed and fuck her forever. “I’ll be there,” she says in a throaty whisper.

  “Good girl.” I allow myself to run my hands along her warm body for another minute before I get out of bed. “I’ll see you there.”

  The bar is packed tonight. More so than usual. Conor McAllister has brought a huge group of people with him, including his usual lackeys, and they take up a large section of the main room. We’re all hustling, serving drinks, taking orders, too busy to even make idle conversation.

  Doesn’t stop me from looking at Marissa every chance I can, though. Or her from looking at me. Our eyes connect several times, and I feel a warmth of familiarity, of intimacy, of us. That intimacy keeps me moving, despite the hectic situation. Knowing she’s here with me. That tonight, I get to lay down beside her. Smell her skin. Fuck her again and again.

  I’m busy serving a table in the corner near the door when I hear a fuss happening on the far side of the room. I finish giving them their drinks then turn around. Conor is leaning over the bar, whispering to Marissa, who’s bearing a stiff smile, her body tense. My stomach clenches. I start walking toward them.

  “Come on, everyone,” Conor is saying to the crowd around him, his words slurred a bit. “Help me convince this woman to go out with me.”

  “I…” Marissa is struggling to maintain politeness. “I’m not interested, Conor. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sure you’re just saying that because you aren’t supposed to ‘mingle’ with customers, but I’m not just anyone.” Conor reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Or maybe you’re a virgin? I’ll take good care of you, baby. I’m good with innocents.”

  At the fear in her eyes, the nasty edge in his words, I lose it. My instincts to protect her kick in. I grab his shoulder and spin him around. “Get the fuck out, Conor—you and your boys. Out.”

  Conor’s eyes are wide and then he laughs, right in my face. “Are you fucking challenging me?”

  “It’s not a challenge. You’ve crossed a line.” My voice is barely more than a growl.

  “I can go wherever I want, cross any line I want. Including in this bar.” He’s incredulous as he stares at me. “Or did you forget that you owe me the money I staked you to finance Fugitives in the first place?”

  The whole place has fallen silent at the ruckus.

  My brothers and Marissa go completely still at his words. Fuck. Fuck. I didn’t want them to find out like this. But fine—if he wants to do it this way, we’ll do it this way.

  “I can pay you everything I owe, with interest, right now.” I stalk over to the safe in the office, count out a pile of cash, and quickly walk back and give it to Conor in front of everyone.

  The whole crowd is quiet now, everyone watching. Tension is thick in the silence. My whole body is vibrating with anger, frustration.

  Conor gives a head nod toward his group, and one of his lackeys takes the pile of money. Conor turns back to me. “Well, that’s very nice, and I appreciate the offer. But you owe me more. I want whatever cash is left in your safe as well.”

  Two other men step up beside Conor, hulking thugs who have far more muscles than brains. The three men glare hard at me. The threat is clear—meet Conor’s demands, or else.

  Then there’s a familiar presence at my back. My brothers are right there with me, despite the surprise revelation that I borrowed money from Conor.

  “Are you fucking threatening us?” Hale growls. He’s never been one to take threats well, especially to his family. I can see him bouncing on his feet, his fists already in position. He’s itching for a fight, which not unusual for him; as a promising amateur boxer, he likes using his fists even more than Butch does.

  “Only if you’re ready to get fucked up,” one of the meatheads says to him.

  The fight is over quickly. Before anyone in the bar can bat an eyelash, Hale jabs that guy in the nose, followed by a quick uppercut to the jaw. While the hulky idiot is reeling, cupping his nose that is gushing blood, Hale lands a square shot in the face to the other man, then spins and kicks him in the gut, sending him flying across the room. People try to move out of the way as the unconscious guy crashes into their table, glasses and beer spilling.

  I stare at Conor as my brother resumes his spot beside me. To Conor’s credit, he doesn’t flinch. Just glares back at me.

  “Hale could take care of you easily,” I say, “but I want to do it myself if you give me another reason. Or you could take the money I gave you, consider us square, and get the fuck out of Fugitives for good.”

  No one moves. The only sound is the music cranked in the background. Everyone is waiting to see what the notorious man will do.

  Conor scans the room, assessing the situation. The meathead with the broken nose is now kneeling beside the unconscious man, smacking his cheek to rouse him. Conor gives some kind of nod, and without a word, he and several of his men exit the bar, dragging the unconscious guy with them.

  Some of the tension leaves the bar, but I’m still not breathing easy.

  Is this the end of his threat to us? I want to believe so. He’s gotten his money, paid in full. I just hope he isn’t going to cause trouble for me and my brothers in the future.

  People in the bar finally start talking again, murmurs rising around abou
t the scene that just happened. Axel and I clean up the mess with the spilled beer, replacing their drinks. Marissa’s brow is knit with concern, and she gives me a look as if asking me if I’m okay. I shoot her a crooked smile and a wink, trying to not reveal the tension still coiled in me.

  When we’ve gotten shit back to normal, my brothers and I move toward the office in tacit agreement. I close the door behind us.

  “What the fuck?” Hale says, massaging his knuckles. “You borrowed money from Conor? Are you fucking insane? And how did you even convince him to loan it to you? We don’t have anything.”

  “Except…the house,” Axel says quietly.

  Both men stare at me, accusations in their eyes.

  I close my eyes and draw in a steadying breath. “Look, I was going to tell you about it.”

  “When?” Hale demands. “Next week? Next month? A year from now? When we were living on the street because Conor came to claim Butch’s house—which you don’t even have the right to leverage, by the way?”

  I level a look at him. “As soon as I had him paid off, I was going to tell. Look, we needed money to start this venture. Opening a bar takes lots of capital. And we didn’t have any. It all worked out though—Conor’s paid off now, and we’re free from his grip. The house is totally secure, and so is Fugitives. Any money we make from here on out is solely ours.”

  “Do you really think he’ll leave us alone?” Axel asks, echoing the question in my head that I’m trying to ignore.

  “He’d better,” Hale says. He turns to me, still frowning. “I’m pissed you didn’t tell us about it.”

  “I knew you’d talk me out of it. And frankly, we were out of options.” I pause. “But you’re right to be angry. It was an educated gamble, but a gamble nonetheless.”