by Lily Menon
“Right.” His eyes dropped to her cleavage, as she knew they would, but unlike most guys, he made a valiant and successful effort to look back at her face. “That’s a really good idea,” he said, sounding like he meant it.
“And maybe it’ll monitor their vitals to read their comfort level,” Annika continued. “Maybe via their smartwatch.” She caressed his wrist lightly, her fingers moving to the underside of his arm, finding his pulse. “It would read an elevated heart rate. Things like that.”
Hudson looked at her, his eyes drifting to her lips. “Really? What’s my heart rate like right now?”
She smiled and moved in closer. “Pretty high, Mr. Craft. I think you’re in dire straits.”
His hand found the edge of her pencil skirt and began sliding up her thigh. “Mm,” he said, placing his lips over hers. “I think you might be right.”
Hudson walked closer, bringing her back to the present, her cheeks warm from the memory. After he flicked on the gas fireplace, he turned back to her. Other than the small lamp on the desk and the flickering firelight, the room was dark.
Annika hovered by the bathroom, feeling nervous and fluttery, like she was a high school student about to have sex for the first time—which was so far from the truth, she would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel like gulping down twelve gallons of water for her parched throat and running away.
Hudson approached her, his eyes determined. He was lithe, confident, not a trace of uncertainty about him. He ran his fingertips feather-light down her arms, then laced his fingers with hers. “Hi.”
She had goose bumps all over her skin. “H-hi.”
“You sound nervous.” He said this in an assessing way, without judgment or amusement.
“I kind of am,” Annika laughed. “Which is ridiculous, I know. We already hooked up in Vegas, but—”
“But this feels different,” he said, his face softening.
Annika nodded.
Suddenly, he was smiling the most deliciously devilish smile she’d ever seen. “A bath would relax you.”
“A—a bath?”
Taking her by the hand, Hudson led her into the giant bathroom. In dead center was an enormous polished granite tub. Coming up from behind her, he pushed her hair to one side and kissed the nape of her neck. Annika closed her eyes.
“I could draw you a bath,” he whispered against her skin, his hot breath tickling her. “How does that sound?”
“Yes. Okay. Good.” She was incapable of speaking any more syllables. Already, her shirt and shorts felt like too much clothing, too much restriction.
“Good.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Straightening, he walked around her and began to fill the tub, dumping in a generous helping of the freesia-scented bubble bath that sat in a little wicker basket next to the washcloths.
Then he walked to the phone mounted to the wall, grabbed the handset, and pushed a button. “A bottle of your best champagne,” he said, looking right at her. Her stomach flipped.
“Why the champagne?”
He hung up. “We’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” Her voice got hoarser the closer he came. He was like a proud lion in the jungle, king of all he saw. Including her.
Gently, using just his fingertips, he slipped the straps of her camisole down her shoulders. “You. Us. Here, together.”
Feeling a burst of confidence at his words, Annika pulled her camisole over her head and slipped out of her shorts. She could see his breathing pick up as he looked at her in her black bra and lace underwear. Then, reaching behind her, Annika unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor, relishing the cool air against her breasts, making her nipples erect. His reaction was immediate; his pupils dilated; his breathing got harsher. Next she slid out of her underwear, already feeling how wet and ready she was, and without meeting his eye, she climbed into the bathtub.
Hudson swallowed visibly; it helped her to see him discombobulated for a change. A rush of exhilaration overtook her as the hot, foamy water slipped over her bare skin, making her sigh. She looked up at him. “Now what?” she asked softly.
He turned off the faucet and sat on the wide edge of the tub. It was maddening in the best way, being completely naked while he was fully clothed. “Now I’ll wash you,” he said, his voice husky.
She held his gaze for a long moment and then nodded, her body melting into the water.
As Hudson retrieved a washcloth and soaked it, Annika lay back and closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt the texture of the warm fabric traveling down her arms, first one, then the other. He wiped her face gently, starting at her forehead, then traveling slowly over the bridge of her nose, caressing her mouth and chin. The washcloth traveled lower still, down the arch of her throat to her shoulders. Her pulse hammered wildly.
The washcloth slipped down to her chest, and then, slowly, almost reverently, over her right nipple. Annika couldn’t help it—a soft moan left her mouth before she’d even known it was coming.
She heard Hudson suck in a breath and opened her eyes.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he growled abruptly, as if holding back some great emotion.
Annika’s eyes slipped shut again as the washcloth traveled lower, into the water, along her diaphragm and across her stomach. She parted her legs in the water, aching to feel the fabric between them.
Hudson swiped the inside of her right thigh, then her left, each motion of his wrist making her pant, making her writhe with absolute desire. Even now, even as she struggled to keep her composure, he was in control, his movements never hesitant, his face a mask of calm as his eyes blazed a trail of fire over her skin.
“Hudson—” she found herself saying, his name a sizzle on her lips.
“What?” he breathed huskily, dipping his head down to hers, nipping at her lips. “Tell me what you want.”
Annika put a hand on his strong wrist in the water. “I want you to touch me,” she whispered against his lips.
His hand moved with aching slowness, the washcloth shivering over her inner thigh and then slipping between her legs, swiping with just the right amount of pressure, both soft and rough, over her sex. Annika gasped, throwing her head back as Hudson worked the washcloth over her. He kissed the arch of her throat, moving upward until her earlobe was between his teeth.
“Give yourself to me,” he whispered, his voice commanding but fraught with desire.
She did; she had no other choice. As one hand rubbed her with the washcloth, the other cupped her breast, the ball of his thumb roving her nipple. Annika’s hips moved in rhythm, her body quivering on the edge, almost flying over—and then he removed his hands completely. Panting, she opened her eyes and looked at him, dazed, frustrated.
He was flushed, his eyes almost black with desire, but he was sitting up and away from her. “Not yet,” he said, tracing his finger over her lower lip, his eyes on her mouth, her throat, her breasts. “I have plans for you, Ms. Dev.”
“But—” Annika couldn’t formulate a response. Her mind was spinning, her body crying out for his hands. “I—”
He grinned, a lopsided, mischievous thing that made her want to rip his clothes off. “Good things come to those who wait.”
There was a knock on the door. “Room service!”
“I’ll be right back.” Hudson draped the washcloth over the edge of the tub and strode toward the hall, closing the bathroom door behind him.
Annika sat up straighter, her body buzzing, every nerve ending eager for more of his careful, tantalizing attention. What kind of lover was Hudson Craft? When they’d been together in Vegas, he’d been … talented, of course, but she hadn’t seen this part of him. She hadn’t yet been seduced by him.
A thrill went through her as she heard the front door close. A moment later, Hudson walked in with a bottle of Dom Pérignon and two champagne flutes on a silver tray. He smiled at her and set the tray on the counter, popping the cork and pouring two glasses in silence. Annika could hear th
e drinks fizzing, the bubbles popping against the sides of the flutes.
Hudson brought her a glass and she took it, gulping down a deep swallow. “Mm.” She let her eyes drift closed for a moment. “That’s good.” Setting the flute on the edge of the bathtub, she leaned back, watching as Hudson sipped his champagne and walked back to sit by her.
“Now,” he said, a glint in his eye. “Where were we?”
“You were washing me,” Annika said, the wantonness in her voice both surprising her and not.
The glint in his eyes graduated to a veritable spark of lust. “That’s right.” Then, smiling that devilish smile again, he said, “But you know what? I think it’s time to take a break and wash your hair now.”
Annika wanted to groan in disappointment and frustration. She was ready. She was so ready. “What about your clothes?” she asked petulantly, splashing the water. “Why am I the only one naked?”
Hudson leaned forward in response. Annika felt her breath hitch as he came closer. She could smell the faint fragrance of his aftershave, combined with a very Hudson scent—masculine and strong. She felt her breathing get shaky as he got closer still, his eyes burning into hers. And then he dipped his head and laid the softest trail of kisses from the spot behind her ear to the hollow of her neck. Annika heard a moan, and realized it was coming from her throat.
“Patience,” Hudson whispered again, against her skin.
“I don’t know how much longer I can be patient,” Annika managed to say. Hudson pulled back and chuckled.
He grabbed the shampoo and Annika slid forward so she had enough room to tip her head back. The idea of Hudson shampooing her felt … strangely erotic, though she wasn’t sure why. It was just shampoo. It was just hair.
“Tilt your head back,” he said, gently moving her chin with his fingers. She did as she was asked, her eyes fluttering closed. The warm water from the shower head flowed over her, and she felt herself relaxing amid the lavender fragrance of the shampoo.
Then his fingertips were in her hair, massaging it into her scalp. He used just the right amount of pressure; never had a hairdresser come close to getting it so right. His fingertips moved from the crown of her head to its curve to the nape of her neck and back up again. He massaged behind her ears, and with every point of pressure on her scalp, Annika felt the stress and tension in her shoulders dissipate. A slight headache she hadn’t even realized she’d had began to disappear.
“You’re smiling,” Hudson noted, and though her eyes were closed, Annika could hear the answering smile in his voice.
“That feels incredible,” Annika said, and then she felt his finger trailing down the column of her throat. Her heart began trip-hammering.
He stopped at her chest, right over her heart. “Good,” he said, his voice deep, authoritative. “Isn’t it so much more fun when you’re nice to me?” He used the showerhead to rinse out her hair thoroughly, his fingers handling each lock with gentle care, the hot rivulets of water like strips of silk against her sensitive skin.
When he was done, Annika opened her eyes. Without looking at her, Hudson got her a towel and brought it over, all business. She stood and wrapped it around herself. Her wet hair dripped onto her shoulders and upper back, soaking into the towel.
She climbed out of the tub and stood there, looking at him. He watched her with the same intensity she’d seen before, focused, alert, but with just the slightest hint of hesitation, like he was holding himself back from what he really wanted to do.
What does he really want to do? The thought made Annika’s knees nearly buckle. She was done with this. She was done with being the only one naked, with him toying with her, with this gradual inching forward toward what they both wanted.
Annika took a breath, and then let the towel fall. She stood completely naked in front of him again. Her knees would knock together if she weren’t holding herself so rigidly. “Your turn,” she said, making it a command.
His eyes roved her body for a full five seconds, dark and hooded, his breathing getting harsher and faster. It was obvious he was hard; he wanted her. He wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. “Are you sure?” he asked, teasing her even now, in this moment, when they were both almost mad with lust. “Any second thoughts about sleeping with the enemy?”
“As long as the truce is still on,” Annika joked, though her voice came out breathy and trembling.
Hudson unbuttoned his shirt slowly, one button at a time, until she could see his pecs and abs. They were as perfect as she remembered; it was like he was sculpted from stone. He shrugged off his shirt, let it fall to the floor, and then reached for his belt.
When he kicked his pants and boxers to the floor, Annika couldn’t help staring. He was … flawless. Every muscle was gorgeous—streamlined and powerful. In the dim ambient lighting of the bathroom, his skin seemed to glow. “How is that, Ms. Dev? Am I to your satisfaction?” His eyes studied her reaction.
Annika walked forward, into his arms, running her hands over the planes and contours of his body, feeling the toned hardness of his muscles. A groan left his lips at her touch, first feather-light and then more intense, more desiring, greedy.
“I think you’ll do, Mr. Craft.”
When she reached between them to feel his hardness in her hands, he brought his mouth to hers in a devouring, all-consuming kiss.
There had never been a kiss like this. Never before had she been held this way, with passion and gentleness and roughness and caressing, with heat and fire and confidence. When his hand reached between them to slip between her legs and finish what he’d started, Annika closed her eyes, letting her head fall back.
He kissed her throat as his fingers found her most sensitive spot. She moaned, her back arching as his fingers slipped and slid, working in circles, his voice coaxing her, bringing her to the balls of her feet, to the apex. “Oh god, Hudson,” she panted, her fingers digging into his strong shoulders. “I want you inside me.”
He grabbed her by the hips and picked her up. “Say it again,” he commanded, his voice low and husky, his eyes feverish with need.
Annika didn’t hesitate. “I want you. Now.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close, feeling his erection pressing against her, steel-hard.
He propped her against the wall, his mouth devouring hers before pulling back to murmur, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? Do you know how crazy you’ve been driving me, pushing me away and drawing me close?” He ran a hand through her hair, pulling her head back with just the right amount of force so he could nip at her throat.
“I thought about you even when I didn’t want to think about you,” Annika gasped, feeling the slick wetness at her core, wanting him inside her even as he stayed right on the edge, teasing. “You’re in my head all the time, messing with my sleep, my thoughts, my plans. Do you know how infuriating that is?”
Smiling that lopsided, wicked smile, he plunged inside her, filling her up in a way she’d never been filled. Her moans echoing in the enormous bathroom, Annika let herself get lost in a fog of pure ecstasy, her eyes closing.
They worked together in rhythm, his big hands cupping her breasts, tweaking and pulling her nipples, sending electric currents of desire and heat pulsing through her. She gasped his name, again and again and again, the frenzied need of the moment overtaking all her senses until his voice was all she could hear, his scent was all she could smell, and his lips were all she could taste. Their climaxes built together, until, at last, Hudson was calling out Annika’s name and she was clutching him, holding on as if he were her last hope.
* * *
Morning came in drifts and shakes, like confetti raining down from a brilliant blue sky. Annika’s eyes fluttered open. She was lying on her side, naked underneath an enormous white comforter, facing the window. The AC hummed lightly. They’d only drawn the gauzy curtain last night, not the blackout, so sunlight filtered in and warmed her face. She felt an arm around her waist, a big, warm b
ody curled around hers, a chin resting lightly on the crown of her head. Hudson. She was still in Hudson’s room.
Annika smiled as memories from last night flickered across her mind: how he’d carried her to the bedroom, how he’d held her hands above her head once they were in bed, his face smiling above her own, her breath catching in her throat as he moved lower and lower down her body. How skilled he was with his tongue, and how generous, the way she’d arched her back, grabbing his hair, shaking as she came. The way he’d grabbed her waist when she was on top and clearly tried not to squeeze too hard as his pleasure peaked. The way they’d stared into each other’s eyes, drinking each other in. The way she’d felt so close to him—so protected, so completely safe and right.
She turned over under his arm and kissed the tip of his nose. “Good morning.”
Hudson’s eyes opened, and a slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “Good morning indeed.” Then he kissed her, slow and languorous and warm, his hands slipping down to caress her ass. “Mm,” he murmured against her mouth.
Annika laughed. “Didn’t you get enough last night? I feel like I burned off all the dinner and alcohol from the train.”
He gazed at her frankly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
Annika felt her cheeks heat up and she snuggled under his chin, against his warm chest. “That’s … a pretty incredible one-eighty from the first time I saw you in my building.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know. I was pretty smitten with you from the beginning, Annika. I think you were the one who hated me. Remember the Nerf dart?”
She pulled back and gave him an outraged look. “I was mad! You couldn’t stop teasing me—not to mention one-upping me and sabotaging me at every turn.”
He rubbed a thumb over her lower lip. “Sabotaging you was just a way to pull you closer. I wasn’t sure you felt the same about me as I did about you. Until you kissed me drunkenly at the fountain.” He laughed.
All out of arguments, Annika stuck her tongue out at him.