“Then can you get someone to cover your calls and come with me?”
She looked surprised again. “Why would I need to have my calls covered?”
He rolled his shoulder. “I think it would do you some good to take a break from it all while we’re gone. No cell phones. No worrying about when the next call from Shepherd might come in. I was thinking we could stay overnight and make a weekend of it.”
She chewed on that plump lower lip for a moment, which made him want to sink his teeth into it, too. “I could set my calls to go through the clinic’s answering service and have Margaret Chin, one of my colleagues, keep an eye on them for me,” she said after a long pause. “But I would need to leave an emergency number in case there was a problem with one of my patients.”
“You can use my cell. I’ll have it with me at all times in case Ryder needs to get in touch with us.”
Giving him a small smile, she said, “Then I’ll call Margaret when it’s a bit later. I don’t want to wake her up.”
Before he could respond, she added, “So now that that’s settled, are you going to snuggle up with me for a few hours?” She patted the mattress beside her.
Christ, talk about an invite. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so completely . . . enticing. But he knew there wasn’t any chance he’d be able to lay down with her on that damn bed and not have his dick inside her within a minute. It was as sure a thing as turkey on Thanksgiving and tears at a wedding.
Backing toward the door, he said, “I’ll snuggle all you want in Miami. But right now I want us to get on the road.”
“Now? Alex, the sun isn’t even up yet.”
“I know. We’ll miss most of the traffic. So come on.”
She groaned as she swept her long legs over the far side of the bed, running her fingers through her sleep-tousled curls. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Can we stop by my place on the way out of town? I don’t even have a bathing suit with me. And everyone knows you can’t go to Miami without a bathing suit.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll hit a mall in Miami.”
She gave him an arch look. “What makes you think I want to go shopping?”
He blinked. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?”
“Having a vag does not automatically mean I’m a shopaholic,” she stated, rolling her eyes at him. “The two aren’t synonymous any more than having a dick means a guy has to like football.”
“Any guy who doesn’t like football isn’t really a guy. Unless maybe he’s an ice hockey fan,” he argued. Then he lifted his hands up and shook his head. “But I’m sorry for assuming. If you don’t want to shop, I’ll do it for you.”
“Actually, I love to shop,” she offered with a smirk. “I was just making a point.”
Shit. He couldn’t help it; he laughed. “More like busting my balls.”
“Well, someone has to.”
Hands braced on his hips, Alex gave her a mock glare from his side of the room. “You’ve been spending too much time with my brothers.”
* * *
BRIT SNUFFLED A SOFT LAUGH UNDER HER BREATH, ENJOYING THEIR playful banter. This was a side of Alex that she’d never really seen, since he was usually so quiet when she was around him and his family. She saw so much of Ben and Mike in him when he was like this, and it just made her want to crawl over the mattress and hug him. Of course, the hug would be followed by throwing herself at him, and as odd as it sounded, she didn’t want sex to ruin the moment they were having.
“That’s probably true, but at least I’ve got good taste,” she drawled in response to his comment, moving to her feet and slipping into the short robe she’d left on the foot of the bed. “If a woman’s going to hang out with a bunch of guys, she couldn’t find a better-looking bunch than the Hudsons. You’re all gorgeous and you know it.”
He looked as if he’d gone a bit warm as he returned her smile, his color high. Then he shook his head again and snorted. “Whatever you do, don’t let Mike hear you say anything like that. He’s already got it in his big head that you think he has a cute ass.”
“Can’t deny that,” she said wistfully. Then she winked at him. “But yours is cuter.”
He dropped his head forward as a sinful laugh rumbled up from deep in his chest, and rubbed the back of his neck. She wondered if he was avoiding her gaze because her compliment had embarrassed him, her suspicions growing when he started to turn toward the door, clearly wanting to make his escape. But then he stopped and looked back at her, his green eyes difficult to read. “Hey, Brit?”
“Yes?”
He suddenly looked a little pained. “I just wanted to say that I’m, uh, sorry for the way I acted last night. What happened between us . . . It was . . .”
“It’s okay,” she murmured, hating to see him struggle. “You don’t have to do this, Alex.”
With a wry twist of his lips, he said, “If I want to fuck you again, I have a feeling I do.”
She laughed, caught off guard by his honesty. It was blunt, but refreshing. Whatever else he might be, Alex Hudson wasn’t a man who would ever lie to get what he wanted or sugarcoat the truth.
He pushed his hands in his pockets and held her gaze. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is that it was . . . incredible. I should have told you that last night. But you, uh, kind of fried my brain.”
She tried not to smile, but wasn’t very successful at it. Her lips tilted up at the corners, and she knew her damn dimples were showing when he slid his gaze over her cheek.
“I haven’t had nearly enough of you,” he went on to say in that deliciously deep, husky voice that was causing chills to sweep over her skin. “Not even close. So I’m hoping like hell that you feel the same way.” He paused, searching her expression, then cleared his throat and added, “No one will need to know. It’s none of their damn business anyway, what we do together.”
He must have instantly picked up on her disappointment, because he quickly said, “Or tell them. I don’t care. Just . . . do what feels right. It’s up to you. Just, please forgive me for being an ass.”
Brit knew she was making one of the classic female mistakes, giving this gun-shy man the opportunity to draw her in even deeper, but it was the damn “please” that did it. She would have bet everything she owned that it was a word Alex hadn’t said to a woman in years.
“All right,” she whispered, unable to say more. But it was enough for him. He gave her a breathtaking smile that was impossibly sexy, full of hunger and heat . . . and maybe even a little bit of relief, and then he turned and left her alone so that she could get ready.
As she headed into the bathroom to grab a quick shower, Brit was fully aware of what she’d just gotten herself into. That she had agreed to go away for a no-holds-barred weekend of decadent sex with a man she found impossible to resist. A man she was also starting to like . . . and even enjoy. Which meant she was only setting herself up for an even bigger letdown when it all ended.
But other than her worry about her own emotional state, what was stopping her from enjoying him while she had the chance? They were both single. They wouldn’t be hurting anyone. And, damn it, she deserved it. Now that she knew just how incredible he could make her feel, she’d have argued until she was blue in the face that she deserved the hell out of it. It might sound bizarre, considering everything that was happening, but this felt . . . right. Felt as if she was doing precisely what she was meant to be doing, and even with the Clay Shepherd nightmare hanging over her head, it felt unbelievably good.
She had no great tragedy in her life. She was an only child, and her parents were fine. Not overly attentive, but she’d never gone hungry or without the physical things that she needed. Other than Jason and Clay, no one had ever crossed a line with her, either personally or professionally. Her existence was just . . . there. All very neat and tidy and status quo. She threw herself i
nto her work not only because she loved it, but because there had been times when she felt as though it was the only thing that defined her. That without it she would somehow slip away, disappearing into the background until no one even saw her anymore.
And, yes, she knew that while she was self-conscious about the size of her breasts and ass, she had a figure that made men take notice every now and then. But they seldom wanted more. She’d dated, but knew when a guy was only going out with her because he wanted to get laid, which meant it wasn’t going to happen. And even when she did like a guy enough to go to bed with him, it seldom lived up to expectations. His or hers.
Now in her early thirties, Brit had actually started wondering if maybe there was some fatal flaw in her when it came to sexual relationships. If they fizzled out so quickly because the men had sensed that there was always a bit of herself that she held back. She wasn’t a prude, but she’d never found it easy to just let go with a man, either.
Until Alex. And on a physical level, it had been incredible. Better than she’d ever truly believed it could be, as if he knew precisely how to create and mold and build her pleasure. Like a freaking expert—like it came as easy to him as taking candy from a baby—and she wanted to return the favor and make him feel good, as well. She wanted it for so many reasons . . . and for no other reason than that she wanted to see him happy. Wanted to see him smile again, the way he had just minutes ago in the bedroom. And if she had to take some risks to do it, then she would. Emotional worries aside, she was willing to take a whole hell of a lot of them.
Because there was something undeniable inside her that said he was worth it.
8
BRIT LOOKED AROUND THE SPACIOUS HOTEL ROOM AS ALEX LOCKED THE door behind them, still in a state of shock. When he’d said they were staying in Miami overnight, she hadn’t expected anything this beautiful. But Alex had spared no expense and put them up at one of the tropical, five-star resorts right on the city’s coast.
They’d stopped by an upscale shopping center once they’d reached the vibrant town, and she watched Alex set the multitude of bags with her purchases on the foot of the room’s sprawling bed, still a little piqued that he’d refused to let her pay for anything. His generosity had been completely unexpected, and she’d found herself wondering more and more today about the circumstances of his divorce. She knew from Ben that the divorce had been ugly, but other than Ben’s insistence that Judith Hudson was a raving bitch, they’d never gone into specifics about why Alex had taken the end of his marriage so badly.
And badly was putting it lightly. He’d not only lost his career as an Orlando homicide detective, but he’d gone on to nearly kill himself with alcohol poisoning.
A shudder swept through her, and Brit pressed a hand to her chest, trying to hold in the panic those words instilled. Gone on to nearly kill himself . . . God, she felt so much more than just this churning anxiety when she thought of what was so very nearly a harsh reality for the Hudson family. There was also anger, fear, frustration—and above it all, an overwhelming sense of relief that he was still there with them. And while he might not be the carefree, always ready with a smile guy that Ben claimed Alex had been before his marriage, every day she spent getting to know him better, learning more about him, made it clear that he was so much more than she’d ever realized.
She knew he felt their chemistry. That much had been made pretty clear. But did he feel the connection building between them like she did? One that went even deeper than the mind-melting sex?
And if he did, was that why he was leaving her there at the hotel by herself while he went to meet with his old detective buddy, instead of taking her with him?
“You going to be okay while I’m gone?” he asked, jiggling his keys in his hand.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be fine.”
He’d explained on the way up to the room that he would need to head out for a bit, to meet up with the cop he’d come to town to see. She’d wanted to ask for details about what they were working on, but had bitten back the questions, not wanting to pry. She was well aware that Alex was the kind of man who would share when he wanted, and not a moment before. It was a characteristic that’d been ingrained in his DNA, and while it might be frustrating, the last thing she would ever try to do was change him.
He locked her in his piercing gaze, and his deep voice had a harder edge to it as he said, “You don’t leave the hotel, Doc. Shepherd might not know where we are, but I still don’t want you taking any chances.”
“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t go anywhere but the pool.”
“I won’t be gone long,” he murmured, looking as if he very much wanted to cross the room and do things to her on the hotel’s massive bed that would have her screaming and begging for more by the time he was finished. But he didn’t. Instead, he headed for the door, looking back at her only after he’d wrapped one of his big hands around the handle. Then he said, “I’m glad you came.”
“So am I,” she whispered, completely stunned by the husky tremor she’d just heard in his voice.
He left before she could say anything more, and as the door closed behind him, Brit let out a deep breath and climbed onto the middle of the bed, her arms splayed wide as she stared up at the ceiling. She let the day roll through her mind, working back to the moment when she’d awakened in a panic, and found herself shaking her head. She simply couldn’t believe what she’d told him that morning. She’d never shared what had happened with Jason with anyone. Not her family, or her friends. So why Alex? Could she blame it on being half asleep? The stress she was under because of Shepherd? Or was it something else?
You know exactly what it is . . .
Shoving those knowing words away, she focused instead on why she was so comfortable with the usually dark, broody PI. Alex was the polar opposite of Jason in temperament, which she supposed could be one of the reasons his quiet intensity didn’t unnerve her as much as it should have. There was a kind of comfort in knowing that with Alex, what you saw was what you got. He wasn’t interested in wearing a mask to please you. He didn’t give a damn about pleasing anyone other than himself. And even then, she knew he didn’t live his life in the pursuit of pleasure.
In truth, he was one of the most complex, intense, arousing men she’d ever known. If not the most. It was driving her crazy, this incessant need working through her mind to figure him out. She knew, deep down, that her “issues” with Alex weren’t going to be found in her professional experience. There was no therapeutic solution to their problems. They were born in emotion, steeped so deeply in that confusing, terrifying swirl of maddening desire she felt for him that she couldn’t find her way through to any kind of answer or plan.
She should run if she wanted to keep from getting hurt. Even though she knew he would never physically harm her, this was a man who, if she let him, could easily wreck her. And yet, she couldn’t just walk away. Not without at least trying to break through to him. She’d made the decision that morning to give this weekend away with him everything that she had, and damn it, she was going to do exactly that.
Suddenly deciding that she could mentally talk herself to death while lying out by the pool as easily as she could right there in the room, Brit changed into the new black one-piece Alex had bought for her, threw on the matching cover-up, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs.
She found a lounger by the side of the beautiful, palm-tree-shaped pool, and ordered a mojito. Then she read on her e-reader for a while, talking to a few people who stopped to make casual conversation, and simply enjoyed getting away from everything, the way Alex had said he wanted her to. But when she caught sight of a young man who reminded her of Clay, tension crept back through her muscles. Draining the rest of her drink, she set the empty glass on the small table beside the lounger, hoping the alcohol would help calm her nerves. But it didn’t.
Despite everything that had happened since Wed
nesday, there was still a part of her that had trouble accepting it was real. She was angry at Clay for messing with her life, but she still hurt for him, too. For the boy he’d once been, and the troubled man he’d become. Did it mean she wanted him roaming the streets? No, she knew that at this point that wasn’t possible. Somewhere along the way, Clay had lost his control or perception of reality, and now everything was so twisted up in his scarred psyche, he was no longer the same young man she’d met in that Miami hospital room three years ago. Instead, he’d become a troubled adult who Alex Hudson was determined to protect her against, even though it was playing havoc with his own life. And the why of Alex’s choice could too easily drive her mad trying to figure it out.
She winced at the direction of her thoughts, deciding she was done with alcohol for the afternoon. It wasn’t helping her think clearly, and it sure as hell wasn’t helping her to relax. If anything, it was increasing her tension, and that was the last thing that she needed.
The heat eventually became too oppressive, and the constant chatter from other guests annoying, so she made her way back up to the room. She took a long, luxurious shower, enjoying the marble enclosure’s multiple showerheads, and had just walked back into the bedroom wrapped in nothing more than a towel when Alex returned.
Flushing beneath the heated gaze he swept over her, she clutched the knot at the front of the towel and asked, “Did your meeting with your friend go well?”
“Yeah. I just need to get a file from him tomorrow, before we leave town.” He pushed his hands in his pockets as he stepped toward her, his expression curious. “Why did you come back to the room? I was going to put on my swim trunks and catch you down by the pool.”
She lifted her hand, gesturing toward her pink nose and cheeks. “Little too much sun.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a sexy grin, and she loved the crinkles that fanned out at the corners of his eyes. “You look adorable in freckles.”
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