A part of me feels like we need to take it slow and make sure we’re still on the same page. The other part of me is ready to slide into his arms and beg him to make me forget. This part becomes increasingly harder to ignore when he nudges my legs open with his knee and slides the loofah across the too sensitive area between my thighs.
Hudson is laser focused. His forehead crinkles in concentration as he washes me, and even though I can tell he wants more, he makes no attempt to push for it.
I, on the other hand, am less controlled and tend to act more on emotion than anything else. Which is why when he moves to pull the loofah away, I grab his forearm, keeping it in place.
Reaching between us, I peel the soapy ball from his hand so that he’s touching me skin to skin. He lets out a shaky breath and meets my gaze.
“Lennon,” he warns when I move against his hand, desperate for friction. “I’m trying to give you some time here but if you keep riding my hand like that all bets are off.”
“Then what the hell are you waiting for?” I snag my hand around the back of his neck and pull him to me. Our mouths crashing together seconds later.
I moan when his mouth opens and his tongue slides against mine. At the same time two fingers dip inside of me. I didn’t realize how desperate I was to feel him like this. Especially after believing I never would again.
“I want you, Hudson,” I pant against his lips. “Right now.” I press down on his hand, needing to feel his fingers deeper.
“I’m all yours, baby.” He smiles as he withdraws his hand and spins me around so that my back is pressed to his front. “But I’m going to warn you, I’m not going to be gentle.” He presses his hand against the middle of my back and guides me forward so that I’m slightly bent with my ass sticking out.
“I don’t want you to be.” I bite my lip and suck in a deep breath when I feel him line himself at my entrance. “Hudson,” I cry out when he pushes inside, going as deep as he can and planting himself there for a long moment. “Hudson.” I push back, urging him to move.
“I just want to feel you for a minute. Fuck, Lennon, you feel so good.” The gravelly way he says it nearly brings me to my knees.
As desperate as I am, I let him have his moment, not able to deny how incredible it feels to have him resting heavily inside of me.
Hudson leans forward slightly, placing both my hands on the shower wall in front of me. “Brace yourself, babe.” He kisses my shoulder and straightens behind me, his hands going to my hips.
Sliding out of me slowly, he hisses when he stops with just the tip inside.
“Fuck, Lennon. The things you do to me.” He plunges into me so forcefully I nearly lose my balance. “This is gonna be quick. You feel too fucking good,” he growls, establishing a fast and steady pace. His fingers bite into my hips. Wet skin slapping wet skin.
My hands press harder against the wall as I push back, meeting Hudson thrust for thrust. I’m crazy for him, drunk on the feel of him inside me, consumed by the incredible ache building in my lower belly.
This is what I needed – to be reminded what this man makes me feel and how he makes me feel it. Both emotionally and physically. To be reassured that he wants me, and right now I know he does.
In how he holds me, how he breathes my name, how he moves inside of me like he won’t ever be able to get enough.
And just like that I come undone. Crying out so loud my voice echoes off the bathroom walls around us. The waves of pleasure overcome me, one after another in an endless cycle of pleasure until Hudson finally succumbs behind me. He growls, his face pressing to the middle of my back as the heat of his release pours into me.
He pumps two more times and stills, his arm wrapping around my chest seconds later to pull me upright against him.
“I love you.” He kisses down my neck, pellets of water peppering his face as he does.
“I love you.” And it’s the truth, finally finding a calm within me.
I protest when he slides out of me and turns me in his arms. Pushing wet hair away from my face, he gently cups my cheeks.
“I’m never going to get enough of this. Of you.”
“Good.” I smile, pressing up to kiss his mouth.
—-
“Peanut butter or peanut butter?” I question, leaning into the pantry.
It wasn’t until after another round that we finally exited the shower, neither of us able to stand the cold water past that point. Hudson is leaning against the kitchen counter next to me looking like a million bucks in his white tee and black boxer briefs, his hair still wet from the shower, while I’m snuggled in my big fluffy robe.
“Hmmm. Peanut butter.” He laughs.
“Good choice.” I re-emerge from the pantry holding a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. “Sorry I don’t have more. I actually went grocery shopping yesterday but most of it needed to be refrigerated and went bad in my car overnight.”
“We’ll go shopping tomorrow. I’ll buy,” he offers, his smile slipping slightly.
“You don’t have to do that.” I drop the peanut butter and bread on the counter. “Although going shopping is a must unless we’re going to eat peanut butter for the next six weeks.” The thought of him leaving for tour at the end of next month causes a wave a dread to wash over me.
“We’ll go tomorrow.”
“I hate shopping on Saturdays.” I crinkle my nose. “But I guess I can make it work. Especially if you’ll be there to get me through it.” I slide in front of him, pressing my palms to his chest.
“Let’s make a day of it,” he suggests. “We can go to lunch, maybe do a little shopping outside of groceries, and just spend some time together.”
“I like that idea.” I kiss the side of his jaw before turning toward the fridge to retrieve the jelly.
My cell phone pings from the living room, notifying me of a new text message. Deciding to ignore it, I start pulling slices of bread out of their bag and setting them on paper plates when it pings again.
“Here.” I hand Hudson a butter knife. “You know how to spread peanut butter, right?” I tease.
“Hmm, I think I can manage.” He smiles, his dimple making an appearance for the first time today.
It’s weird. It feels like morning but it’s nearly eight o’clock at night. I guess that’s what I get for napping in the middle of the afternoon.
Crossing into the living room, I grab my cell phone from the coffee table. The screen illuminates revealing two text messages from Emma.
Emma: I tried to call earlier. Is everything okay?
Emma: Call or text me back or I’m coming over.
Realizing she must have called while we were napping or in the shower, I type out a quick response.
Me: Hudson’s here. He explained and everything is fine. I’ll fill you in later. I love you and thank you for earlier.
Her response is almost instant.
Emma: I’m so glad. I was so worried about you. Call me tomorrow if you can or we can talk at work on Monday. Love you.
“Everything okay?” I look up to see Hudson watching me from across the breakfast bar.
“Yeah. Just Emma checking in.” I drop my cell back down onto the coffee table before rejoining him in the kitchen.
“I take it she knows what happened?” he asks, stepping to the side so I can drop some jelly onto the bread he’s already put peanut butter on.
“She does. Well, she knows as much as I did this morning.” I reach into the bread bag and pull out four slices, finishing off each sandwich.
“So basically she hates me.” He chuckles, watching me lift one sandwich to my mouth to take a huge bite.
“She doesn’t,” I say after I’ve swallowed. “Her and Robert were the ones trying to convince me to hear you out when I was ready to never speak to you again.”
“Remind me to thank them later.” He leans forward and takes a bite of the sandwich in my hand.
“Hey. Get your own!” I squeal, holding my sandwich cl
oser to myself.
“But yours tastes so much better.” He moves in, attempting to take another bite.
“It tastes the same as those.” I point toward the counter.
“No it doesn’t,” he disagrees, backing me into the refrigerator.
“I thought you were hungry,” I remind him when he slowly starts to untie my robe.
“Oh, I am hungry.” He slides open the thick fabric, letting his eyes travel the length of me. “I’m just craving something other than peanut butter all of a sudden.” He drops to his knees and within seconds I’ve completely forgotten why we were in the kitchen to begin with.
Chapter Five
“So Hudson, Lennon tells us you’re going back on tour in a few weeks.” My dad leans back in his chair, tipping a beer to his lips.
I had no intention of coming to Sunday lunch today, especially given everything that’s happened over the past couple of days, but when my mom called to invite Hudson – knowing he was in town – he insisted we go.
None of them know about Gage, or the fact that only two days ago I thought Hudson and I were done forever. I have no intention of telling them either. It’s in the past and I’m determined to move beyond it because, truthfully, I’ve never felt about someone the way I feel about him. I’m willing to do just about anything to hold onto him forever, including leaving my family in the dark on things I’m sure they would not be happy to learn.
“Yes, sir.” Hudson nods. “I’ll be co-headlining with Annabelle.”
“Shut up.” Starr smacks the table. “The Annabelle?”
“Pretty sure there’s only one, Starr.” I roll my eyes at her.
“Do you have any idea how much I freaking love her?” she asks Hudson, ignoring my comment. “Do you think there’s any way I could meet her?”
“Starr.” Mark nudges his wife gently.
“What?” She throws him a dirty look. “My sister is dating a famous country singer. Surely there are perks to that.”
“Oh my god.” Mark shakes his head before turning his gaze to Hudson. “You’ll have to forgive my wife.”
“It’s fine.” Hudson chuckles. “I’m sure something can be arranged. I don’t know my schedule off hand, but I know we have shows in Florida, Georgia, and Alabama. Maybe we can work something out for one of them. I can arrange backstage passes for you and I’m sure Annabelle would be happy to meet you,” he says to both Starr and Mark.
“Seriously?” Starr squeals, swatting at Mark’s arm that’s resting on the table. “Did you hear that, baby? Annabelle, backstage passes. I think I’m dreaming.”
“I heard.” He shakes his head again, grinning at Starr. “I think that’s something you do with your sister.” He throws me a quick wink.
“Seriously Lennon, if you ever let this man go I think I might murder you,” she warns, wagging a finger at me.
“Good to see where your loyalties lie.” I smile at her. If only she knew how I’d almost let him go mere days ago.
“How long will you be on tour?” my mom chimes in, getting the conversation back on track.
“It’s ninety-two shows over the course of eight months.” He takes a pull of his beer before setting the bottle on the table in front of him.
“That’s a long time.” My mom’s gaze darts to mine and in her eyes I see everything she’s too polite to voice out loud in front of Hudson. Like where does that leave me while he’s touring the country for eight months?
“Well I think it’s amazing,” Starr chimes in.
“You just think it’s amazing because you might get to meet Annabelle,” I tell her.
“I mean yes, of course that would be amazing but hello, I’m sitting here having lunch with Hudson James. That’s pretty bad ass too.”
“Starr. Language.” My father groans.
“Honestly, daddy. I’m twenty-five years old. I can say ass if I want to.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to,” he counters.
“Anyway.” She diverts dramatically, turning her attention back to the man sitting next to me. The man who seems so at ease you would think he’s been coming to Sunday lunch at my parent’s house his entire life. “Crap, I almost forgot.” She holds up her finger and quickly stands, jogging from the room without another word.
“I’m going to grab another beer. Hudson, Mark, would you two like to join me?” my father asks, pushing out of his chair.
Both men nod and stand. Hudson throws me a sweet smile and a wink before following my father and brother-in-law in the direction of the garage. Also knowns as my father’s man cave.
“You two seem happy.” My mom pulls my attention to where she’s sitting at the end of the table.
“We are happy.” I smile, sipping my tea.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing, Lenny. He seems wonderful but how well do you really know him?”
I don’t confess how much I’ve asked myself that same question over the last few days and instead focus on what I am willing to share.
“I love him, Mom.”
“I know you do. That’s why I’m worried.”
“You don’t need to worry,” I tell her, suddenly wishing Nana was here to save me like she always does when my mom insists on talking about something I really don’t want to talk about.
Nana came down sick last week and even though she’s doing much better, she didn’t want to risk infecting everyone. I think it was just her excuse to play hooky. I swear my Nana acts like she’s still a teenager most days.
“I’m your mom. It’s my job to worry. It’s clear to see you’re crazy about him and if the way he looks at you is any indication as to how he feels, I’d say he’s just as crazy about you. But he’s a musician and a pretty well known one at that. How long before his interest starts to stray? Men can only take so much temptation, especially when it’s thrown in your face day in and day out.”
“Hudson isn’t like that, Mom. He would never do that to me.” Even though there’s really no way I can know that for sure.
“I just want you to be careful. You’re already in so deep after such a short period of time. I worry what this will do to you if it all falls apart.”
“I worry about that too, Mom, but I’m not willing to give up what we have just because I’m scared.”
“God, you are so much like your father. Fearless. Strong. Always willing to go after what you want no matter what.”
“I think I get that from you, not Dad,” I point out, knowing my mom is the strong one and always has been.
Before she can respond, Starr comes bounding out of the house, a large zip lock back hanging from her fingers.
“Here.” Leaning across the table, she drops the bag in front of me before reclaiming her seat.
“What’s this?” I ask, picking it up and turning it around before she can answer. “Starr.” I look up at my sister, then back down at the photograph in front of me, not able to wipe the smile off my face.
It’s of Hudson and me at Starr and Mark’s wedding. We’re on the dance floor. My hands are wrapped around the back of his neck, his arms around my waist. Our foreheads are touching as we look into each other’s eyes. I’m wearing an ear to ear smile, while one side of his mouth is quirked up in a smirk. Total Hudson.
It’s one of those pictures you would swear was staged because it’s that perfect, only it’s completely candid because Hudson and I didn’t pose for any pictures together.
“I came across that when we were ordering our pictures. I knew you’d want to have a copy so I had it printed for you when we had our wedding album made.” My sister grins across the table at me.
“This is perfect, Starr. Seriously, thank you so much.”
“There’s two copies in there. One for you and one for him. I thought maybe he’d like to have something to keep with him.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Anyway, there’s a few others of you two but that was my favorite. I can send you the link to our portfolio and you can order m
ore.”
“Please. I’d like to look at them.”
“No problem. I’ll forward you everything later. That one.” She points to the photo on the table. “Made it into the wedding album. No way I wasn’t going to put Hudson freaking James in there.” Mom chuckles at her unapologetic youngest daughter. “Seriously, I still can’t believe it. My sister dating Hudson James. My freaking sister. Still feels unreal.”
“For me too,” I agree simply because it’s the truth. Only my disbelief has nothing to do with the fact that he’s famous and everything to do with how he makes me feel.
“Where are the guys anyway?” Starr asks like she’s just realized they’re no longer sitting at the table.
“Garage,” Mom answers, pointing in the general vicinity of where the garage is located.
“You let Dad take him to the garage?” Starr gapes at me.
“I figured he’s safe as long as Mark is in there with him.” I shrug.
“Have you forgotten what Dad said to Mark the first time he took him to the garage? I’m pretty sure he pulled out his shot gun and threatened to hunt him down if he ever hurt me.”
“He wouldn’t...” I look at Mom.
“This is your father.” She shrugs, standing as she begins to clear the table.
“I think I’m gonna go peek in on them,” I say, snagging the bag with the pictures in it before taking off toward the garage.
Chapter Six
Emma: The beach house sold. Should be closing in thirty days.
I read Emma’s message as the elevator lifts me to my floor. Having just left Emma at the inland house not even thirty minutes ago, I’m assuming she must have just found out.
Me: Seriously. That’s amazing. How much did it sell for?
The elevator doors slide open as I hit send. Stepping out, I let out a small sigh, a little sad to know someone else will be living in the house I’ve fantasized about buying for months – knowing I could never ever afford it.
Emma: That’s the amazing part. It sold for one point six million.
Me: Holy shit.
Stopping in front of my door, I try to mentally calculate how much of that will be mine.
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