She pushed her way through the crush of bodies. The moment she reached her table, the waitress approached with a fresh tray of drinks.
“Did you order another round?” she asked Harper.
“From the gentleman at the bar,” the waitress answered. She set a Cosmo in front of Harper and a vodka tonic in front of Colin’s empty chair. But instead of another martini, Allie was served a squat tumbler filled with amber liquid. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a small sip. Scotch. Johnny Walker Blue, if she wasn’t mistaken. Not exactly her drink of choice, but it was . . .
Hudson.
Allie spun toward the bar. She saw a sea of faces, but not the one she hoped to find. Her heart sank. Of course it wasn’t him. They had agreed to keep their distance. And while her head told her it was the wise decision, her heart still sank.
When she turned back to the table she noticed a single word written in pen on the cocktail napkin that had been beneath her drink. Upstairs was all it said, but the handwriting was as familiar to her as her own.
Upstairs? Not very specific. She slid her beaded clutch across the table and into her lap, discreetly checking the burner phone while pretending to rummage around for lip gloss. Sure enough, a text from Hudson filled the locked screen.
Don’t make me wait.
Her gaze lifted to the spiral of balconies above the dance floor. There had to be dozens of booths and private lounges. She had no idea how she was going to find him, but she was damn sure going to try.
“I’ll be right back,” Allie said. “Gonna hit the ladies’ room.” She didn’t bother waiting for a reply from Harper. Instead she melted into the crowd, her pulse quickening with every step as she made her way toward the stairs. The grates on the metal treads offered a dizzying view she would have found unnerving under any other circumstance, but at the moment they didn’t even faze her. The only thing that mattered was finding Hudson.
The first balcony was essentially a wide catwalk with a row of circular booths. Each faced the center of the club, providing the perfect vantage point for watching the action on the dance floor below. It was doubtful Hudson would have chosen such a high-profile location, but she scanned them briefly before hurrying to the next level. The second balcony was deeper, offering private lounges with clusters of plush seating surrounding tables cluttered with bottles of premium liquor. A velvet rope hung across the staircase to the third balcony along with a sign that read PRIVATE EVENT. For a moment she considered the possibility that Hudson might have rented the entire floor, but then a ripple of awareness washed over her. Every nerve in her body sprang to life. He was close. She could feel his presence, his overwhelming desire, calling to her on the most base level.
Allie’s eyes darted across the expanse of the club. Most of the VIP lounges had their privacy curtains tied back, but on the far side of the balcony one lounge remained closed. Her skin prickled with anticipation as she followed the narrow path. Max emerged from the shadows as she drew closer, greeting her with a slight nod before drawing the curtain back. Allie stepped inside. The sight that greeted her took her breath away.
She’d barely seen Hudson since they returned from France, and when she did it was mostly as the billionaire mogul, dressed in designer suits and ready to conquer the world. But the man before her was younger and more dangerous, his stance predatory and his eyes dark. Dressed in jeans and a black sweater, he was sex personified. Allie licked her lips in anticipation because, for the moment at least, the only thing he looked ready to conquer was her.
* * *
Lights pulsed and shot down in laserlike beams of various hues to the beat of the pounding bass, while sweaty bodies undulated to the rhythm. High above in the VIP section, Hudson stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. He repositioned his grip and the muscles in his forearm flexed as his fingers compressed the crystal against his palm. The glass protested, yet bore the weight of his choke hold. It was all he could do to keep from going wrecking ball through the crowd to tear that smarmy fuck’s hands off Allie.
Without ever taking his eyes off the scene below, Hudson brought the glass to his lips. He took a moment to savor the potent proof, letting it roll over his tongue before sliding in a comfortable burn down his throat. An ambient glow caressed Allie’s skin, and when she slid her hand up the back of her neck to lift her hair, he could see a sheen of sweat glistening on her flesh. Her head listed back, and as her hips swayed to the music, he became even more aware of the heavy pulse vibrating down the length of his cock.
As if on cue, Allie returned to her table. The waitress weaved through the dense crowd and delivered another round of drinks per his instructions. Hudson watched until she found his message, then turned and casually strode into the VIP lounge he’d reserved for the night. The curtains, thick enough to provide total privacy, dropped in a rush behind him. He downed the rest of his scotch and set the empty glass on the coffee table. When he straightened, Allie was standing there, her eyes glassy from cocktails and her skin flushed from dancing. His gaze traced up her athletic legs—which he was dying to have wrapped around his hips, his face; he didn’t give a fuck as long as he was buried inside her with either his tongue or his cock—to the hem of her dress that was way too fucking short for public consumption, yet perfect.
A heavy, inescapable lust permeated the air in the confined space, heightening their mutual desire. His hands fisted at his sides and the beast within the civilized shell awoke. A hunger for her slammed into him and reverberated through his body. Christ, he wanted her; craved her with a greed so acute he would take her any way he could get her.
Her lips parted and the delicate expanse of her shoulders began to tremble. Unable to wait any longer, he stalked toward her, void of thought or decision. She came at him in a rush and their bodies met in a head-on collision of hands and tongues and mouths. In spite of the stress they were under, in spite of the shit that was threatening their future, Allie was the love of his life.
And he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.
It felt like an eternity since they’d been together, and he was starved for a taste of her. Hudson sifted both of his hands through the sweat-damp roots of her hair and his tongue pushed past her lips. “I can’t go this long without you,” he rasped. As he deepened the kiss, he felt a primal need to erase the lingering palm prints of the guy who had touched her.
He pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at her through hooded eyes. “I hated seeing him all over you.” His hand smoothed up the back of her thigh and under her dress. “Touching what’s mine.” He palmed her ass and yanked her hard against the erection straining the fly of his jeans.
“I was thinking about you.” Allie molded her soft curves against his hard edges. “I wanted it to be you touching me. I always want it to be you.” The surrender in her voice charged his desire. He wanted to claim her as his, right there.
Hudson dipped his head and caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “Prove it,” he challenged.
“A dare, Mr. Chase?” Mischievous intent, undoubtedly fueled by alcohol, glimmered in Allie’s eyes. He loved her like this, willing to abandon her inhibitions and unapologetic about what she wanted from him. Only him.
He smirked. “If you can handle it.”
Allie’s hands came up and landed dead center on his chest. She pushed him backward and he obliged, taking a load off as soon as his calves hit the double-wide couch. He reclined and his knees fell to the sides. But instead of climbing into his lap, Allie stood in front of him, slowly inching her dress up her thighs. Christ, she was going to draw this out, tease him relentlessly. And all he wanted right now was her dropping down hard on his cock, her damp skin against his, and his mouth moving with hers if only to breathe the same air.
“Come here.” His voice was a guttural growl.
She straddled him and ran her hands down his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath when she lifted the hem of his shirt and ran her fingers lazily ac
ross his abdomen. And she didn’t stop there. Without trepidation she cupped him through his jeans and deliberately massaged his raging-hard cock.
“Take me, baby.”
Allie smiled in the darkness as she slowly lowered the zipper of his fly. Painfully fucking slow. She freed him from the confines of his boxers and his cock punched out, laying thick and heavy against his stomach and glistening at the tip.
With his patience pushed to the limit, Hudson took control of their game. He slid his hands up the inside of her thighs and shifted her panties to the side. She was drenched. Her head listed back and her lips parted on a silent gasp as he glided his fingers back and forth between her slick folds.
“Pay attention, Alessandra, I’m only going to say this once.” Her eyes opened, and when they met his, he knew he had her. Slowly, he slid one finger inside her, curling it forward. “This is mine.”
“Forever.” The word rushed out on a panting breath.
“You’re so greedy.” He eased out, then back in with a second finger, priming her as her hips circled and rocked into the heel of his hand. “I know you want to fuck me.”
“Yes . . .” A strobe of light flashed through the curtains, highlighting Allie’s face. He eased his fingers out, and with his eyes locked to hers he traced her lips, coating them with her arousal. He shifted a hand under the weight of her hair and curled his fingers around her neck. On a groan he pulled her to him and kissed her hard, his tongue licking the taste of her from her lips.
“Do it,” he rasped against her mouth. He lifted his hips to push his pants farther down his legs. “Take me. I want to watch you.”
The bastard in him wanted to tie her hands behind her back so all she had to take him with was her hot, soaking core. But he craved the soft, gentle touch of her hands, a dark paradox to her quest to be taken rough and hard. He watched intently as she wrapped her fingers around his achingly hard length and rubbed the head of his cock against her slick sex.
“Now, Allie,” Hudson hissed through clenched teeth. He was way past the point of asking nicely.
She rose up on her knees and positioned herself, the thick head of his cock parting her lips. He swallowed hard as she lowered herself onto him. “Fuck,” he bit out. “So tight.” His fingers flexed restlessly against her thighs as she took more of him inside her, until with a final shift, he was balls deep.
In the dim, filtered light he watched Allie’s back arch and her teeth sink into her lower lip. He moved his hands to her waist and squeezed. Her muscles flexed under his grip as she began to ride him in an easy, fluid movement, over and over. Outside the heavy curtains a sultry bass thumped throughout the jam-packed club. But inside that confined space, the world belonged to them, and before long, their slow teasing fuck turned into a raw, voracious need.
With a curse, Hudson’s head kicked back, pressing into the cushion behind him. His breathing became rough and more ragged. Allie braced her hands on his shoulders and her body undulated in waves over him, rolling her hips into each downward stroke—harder, faster, deeper.
Fuck, she didn’t stop. And he never wanted her to.
Panting, she leaned forward and her lips hovered over his. “Hudson . . .”
He took her mouth with a furious need, swallowing her cries. He could feel her impending orgasm pulsing around his shaft as his tongue thrust fast and hot over hers. His hips surged upward, pumping in and out of her with a perfect pounding glide that met her strokes with increasing force. Her fingers raked into his hair and clenched a handful of his dark waves, the sweet lick of pain a direct line to his groin.
His hand slipped between her thighs and his thumb circled the top of her sex, taking her higher and higher until her body exploded in an orgasm that had her fisting his cock like a vise. The sensation kicked off his own release in a razor-sharp flash of pleasure that shot straight down his spine. His hips locked against hers as he emptied himself inside her. And as he did, only one word came to mind. “Yours.”
Chapter Thirteen
The panoramic view from Hudson’s office displayed the urban sprawl of Chicago as a winter wonderland. Outside, snow swirled just beyond the thick glass in what must have been the coldest winter on record, at times nearly grinding the city to a halt. But inside it was business as usual. With his brow furrowed in concentration, Hudson’s fingers hammered against his laptop at a vicious pace. Work had always been his savior, and with him and Allie at negotiated opposite ends, he was relying on it once again to encapsulate him into his world.
Hudson blew out a breath as he hit send on a lengthy e-mail, then moved to the next item burning up his inbox. With any luck it would preoccupy him for the rest of the day. Although in reality there wasn’t a spreadsheet in the world that could keep his focus from shifting to the photo of Allie that sat framed on his desk.
Ever since Julian cornered her with his list of demands, they’d been sparring for public consumption while fucking each other senseless in private. Admittedly, the latter wasn’t so bad, but the former had him on edge. The seconds, minutes, and hours they stole in hidden corners, dark offices, or late-night covert ops seemed to be the only thing holding them both together. But it wasn’t enough. They needed a day—scratch that, a weekend—where Allie wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder.
Hudson’s gaze fell to his calendar and an idea began to take hold. But as he reached for his cell phone, it vibrated against his desk. His little brother’s name flashed up on the screen along with some selfie reminiscent of Easy Rider that he’d snapped on the Fat Boy Hudson had given him for Christmas.
“For Fuck’s sake,” Hudson muttered. When in the hell had he had enough time or ingenuity to do that? At least he wasn’t flashing his ass . . . this time.
“Yeah, Nick.” He shifted to a pile on the corner of his desk, lifting a contract off the top and slashing a red X through the black and white.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Modern technology.”
“Whatcha up to?” Nick’s over-the-top enthusiasm had Hudson wishing he’d dropped the call into voice mail.
“Working.” Hudson flipped the page to annihilate another paragraph.
“You work too much. Get out, live a little.”
“What do you want, Nick?” Giving up on the documents in front of him, Hudson leaned back in his leather chair.
“I wanted to, ya know, see if you wanted to get some grub. Feel like a little Al’s Beef? Been craving that greasy goodness for days.”
“I already ate.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, earlier. What’s with the dietary interrogation?”
“What’s with the ’tude? Allie would school your ass for being such a grumpy prick.”
Hudson frowned into the phone. Nick had known Allie as long as he had and wasn’t far off with that assessment. Her presence—her smile, her laugh, all those soft feminine curves—would have straight-up given him an attitude adjustment. Not to mention her sharp tongue dropping the hammer on his shitty mood.
“Let’s hang.” Nick snorted into the phone. “You know, get outside the eighteen million rooms of your bachelor pad.”
Hudson breathed deep through his nose. “I have work I need to get done.”
“Come on, you’re the big wig at that joint. Spare a couple hours and go shopping with me or something. You’re always ragging on how I’m dressed. Thought you might get off on taking me to Banana Republic or some shit. Make me over into your mini-me.”
“What’s this about, Nick?”
“Nothing. Can’t a guy just want to spend time with his brother?”
A chuckle reverberated in Hudson’s chest. “Cut the bullshit, Nicky. What’s your angle?”
Nick exhaled in a rush. “I’m worried about you, bro. You’re isolating yourself back into your old habits. All work and no play make Hudson an asshole. Besides, you’ve always been lookin’ out for me; now it’s my turn.”
Hudson could barely stand his own com
pany these days. The air in his penthouse had become suffocating and stale, and work wasn’t doing shit to smooth out his edges. Maybe an afternoon with Nick was what he needed. A grin curved his mouth. “I have an idea.”
“What?” Nick shot back.
“You’ll see.” Hudson started the shut-down process on his laptop.
“Shopping? Food? Ice skating?”
“None of the above.”
“What the fuck is better than you J.Crewing the hell out of me?”
“Pick you up in thirty.” Hudson hung up, cutting off a string of curses mixed with pleas for a hint.
* * *
Hudson curbed the DB9 outside the apartment he’d rented for his brother. After his stint in rehab, the dive of a neighborhood he’d been living in was a no-go. Nick had balked at taking a handout, but Hudson had finally convinced him. In hindsight he should have just moved him into the penthouse, since that’s where he was most nights anyway.
Nick was already waiting outside in some sweatpants and T-shirt ensemble that almost had Hudson rethinking the shopping idea.
Almost.
His clothes looked to have been salvaged from the hamper and his hair was a frickin’ mess. As if someone had turned him upside down and mopped the floor.
Nick jerked the door open and plopped into the seat. “Oh yeah, the ass heaters are on,” he said as he slammed the thing shut.
“Hey, easy on the door.”
“Sorry, did I bruise your precious Assssston Martin?” Nick took a one-two at him. “You’re all designer, mixy-matchy.”
“I don’t look like I rolled out of bed.” Hudson’s jaw tightened as he put the car in gear and hit the gas. The pistons churned and the engine roared to the perfect pitch of a finely tuned automobile. “Get your seat belt on.”
Nick pulled the strap across his chest and the belt slid home with a soft click.
“So what’s the plan? Saks? Neiman’s?”
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