“Violet said you’re divorced.” Okay. That came from out of nowhere, but since it was out in the open, she found herself curious about the life he’d made without her.
Hudson was silent for a few moments and then moved toward her. Shit. Surely he could hear her heart or see the mad flutter of the pulse at the base of her neck? Mouth dry, she wanted to run, but found she couldn’t take her eyes from him.
What was he doing? Was he going to touch her? Kiss her? Was she going to let him?
He stood an inch or so away and then reached for her. Her eyes squeezed shut because she didn’t want him to see the raw, uncensored need inside her. Seriously. She’d given in before he’d even started.
Several seconds ticked by and then…
“This is good.”
What? Her eyes slowly opened, and she watched him lick ice cream from the spoon she’d abandoned and then go in for more. When he offered her a taste, she shook her head and waited. For what, she didn’t know…but the rules had been thrown out the window, and she had no idea what they were doing or where they were headed.
The bedroom. The thought slid through her mind like a secret.
Hudson leaned back against the counter, right beside her, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He dug in for more ice cream and, and waited a few seconds before he spoke.
“I was married for just over a year. Candace and I…”
Candace. The name conjured up a tall, cool, collected woman. A supermodel maybe. Or a brain surgeon.
He shrugged. “She worked at the White House.”
Of course she did.
“We hardly saw each other. Probably shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place.”
“Then why did you?” She glanced up at him.
Hudson frowned, and he kicked at some invisible piece of dirt on the floor. After a while, he shrugged. “I don’t know. We dated for a couple of years. She was easy to be with, and she wanted a ring. It seemed right at the time.”
Rebecca’s heart twisted. He’d given her a ring once. He’d taken her out in the boat over to the little island in the middle of the lake. He’d packed a picnic and stolen some of his dad’s beer. Not the cheap stuff kept in the boathouse, but the premium imported bottles from inside the house. They’d spent the afternoon drinking, eating, and making love on the beach. When it was time to pack up and leave, he’d given her a ring. A delicate, simple gold band with encrusted diamonds. Hudson had called it a promise ring and told her he loved her. Said they’d never be apart. A year later, he was gone.
She still had the ring.
“What about you?”
Rebecca pushed away from the counter and wrapped her arms around her body. She was cold and sad and confused and a whole bunch of things. Her chest hurt, or maybe it was her heart. She didn’t want to talk about her marriage. Or her life with David, because it had sucked. The only good thing to come out of it was Liam.
“Becca?”
She shook her head because she didn’t want to talk about anything.
“Becs?”
He was closer now. She felt the heat of him at her back.
“You’re shaking.”
Was that his warm breath against her skin?
The silence in her house was oppressive. It filled the nooks and crannies, yet slid over her body and left her feeling empty. She was so damn sick of feeling empty. She needed a connection, even if that connection was all wrong for her.
Slowly, her fingers crept downward until she gripped the edge of her shirt. Heart pounding, lungs on fire with the need to breathe, she pulled the black silky material up and over her head and tossed it to the floor.
Hudson made a noise—an animalistic sound that came from deep inside him. It touched a part of her that used to belong to him. A part of her that used to sing beneath his touch. A part of her that was no longer silent.
Was it the planets aligned properly to make her feel this way? Was Pluto orbiting some other moon or something crazy like that? Was it the fact it had been forever since she’d felt any kind of desire? Any kind of need that hurt so badly it felt better than good?
That was when it hit her. Her forever was Hudson Blackwell. He’d been the only man to make her feel this way, and God, how she missed it.
A sob escaped her. Her breasts ached. Her skin was on fire. Her sex was swollen and wet. She felt as if she were coming apart. As if she was pulled too tight and everything was too thin.
“Becca.” His voice was rough, his breathing ragged. “What are we doing here?”
Her hands fell to the opening of her jeans, and before she could change her mind, she unzipped and stepped out of them. His sharp intake of breath told her the black cheeky undies were to his liking—he’d always been an ass man—and for the first time tonight, she felt as if she were in control.
Which was crazy, really, because she so wasn’t.
“Rebecca.” His voice was sharper now.
“I’m going to bed.” She took a few steps and paused near the door. “It’s up to you whether or not you want to join me.”
Rebecca walked up the stairs, her footsteps slow and precise, and she didn’t stop until she reached the end of the hallway. Once inside her bedroom, she took a moment to lean against the wall and tried to catch her breath. But it was hard because her heart was beating so fast, she felt light-headed. And she was shaking like a damn leaf.
For a long time, all she could hear was that drumbeat in her ears and the air in her lungs as she struggled to breathe. When it became too much. When her shoulders tensed so badly, the muscles corded painfully, and her stomach tumbled damn near to the floor…
Hudson appeared in her doorway.
She glanced up and watched as he took two steps into the room and stood directly in front of her. Light fell in from the window, creating shadows across his face, illuminating the hard planes, the strong cheekbones and slightly flared nostrils. His eyes were so dark, they looked obsidian, and he looked her over, lingering on her half-exposed breasts and skimpy panties.
In the half-light, he looked dangerous while she felt exposed. She bit her lip and clenched her hands, wondering what he thought as he gazed down at her. She wasn’t nineteen anymore. Her body had changed. She’d had a child.
She held her breath when he reached for her, but couldn’t hold back the small whimper that spilled from her lips when he touched the tattoo on her lower hip. His fingers burned her skin even as, at first, his touch was tentative. Just a forefinger tracing the outline of the ink so slowly and gently, she wanted to cry.
But then his fingers splayed wide open, and he cupped her hip possessively, running his palm up and down, his touch rougher. She was mesmerized by the sight. By the large masculine hand on her pale skin.
“Look at me, Becca.” His voice had an edge to it, and she obeyed. “Are you sure this is what you want? Because I’m about as close to losing control as I’ve ever been, and if you want me to leave, say the word now. I’ll go. We can blame this on whatever you want. The booze. The music. The full moon.”
“There is no full moon,” she whispered.
A half smile touched his face, and her gut clenched. “No,” he said roughly. “There’s not.” His hand fell away from her hip, and the seconds stretched long and thin.
Hudson was giving her an out, and if she was smart, she’d take it. Rebecca tried to think. She tried to rationalize her behaviour. But how could a person rationalize something they didn’t understand? She knew she should stay as far away from Hudson Blackwell as she could, because if she let him in again, it wouldn’t end well for her. She knew this.
Oh God, but she knew this.
A heartbeat passed. The moment came and went. That perfect moment of clarity when she saw herself pushing him away and asking him to leave. She saw it in her mind, so clear it seemed real. Her hands rose in the air…her fingers reached out. They trembled slightly. They touched leather.
Then, with a groan, she tugged on his jacket, a savage pull
. And then his shirt. She helped him with his jeans and belt. It was a hot, feverish manipulation of clothes and skin that left them both breathless.
There was no turning back. Clarity vanished, and raw need took over.
Chapter 7
Hudson’s willpower left the second her fingers touched his body. Gone was the urge to do the right thing. To think things through, and maybe take a step back. There’d been a fire simmering inside him since he’d laid eyes on Rebecca nearly a week ago, and it was out of control.
Thing was? He didn’t care.
Him. Hudson Blackwell. The ultimate control freak who ran his life the way he ran his team. With icy precision and a wide lens that let him see everything. Action. Consequence.
Yet right now, the only thing he cared about was the heat inside these four walls and the half-naked woman in front of him. Rebecca.
My Rebecca.
With a groan, he sank his hands into the silky blonde hair on either side of her head and bent low so that he could finally taste her again. There was no hesitation. No soft nibbles and gentle sweep of the tongue. She offered, and he took.
His mouth was open, hot and demanding. It was fueled equally by the heat inside him, by the way she responded to his touch, by the smell of her. He pushed her back against the wall and kissed her until his head spun. Until he could barely breathe.
And then he kissed her again. With a groan, he tore his mouth from Rebecca, his hands greedily seeking out and releasing her right breast from her silky black bra. His mouth closed over the hard, pebbled nipple, and he used his tongue to taste the pink bud. He smiled savagely when she wiggled and pulled her bra all the way off and offered up both nipples. He’d always loved her breasts. So damn soft. Supple. Perfectly round. They were fuller then he remembered, but Hudson wasn’t complaining.
He suckled harder, and she bucked against him.
He grinned. She groaned.
He found her mouth once more, his tongue going deep while his hand stroked its way down her stomach until he felt the edge of her panties. Impatient, all it took was one hard yank and he tore the material away, giving him full access. She trembled beneath his touch, and he didn’t stop stroking until he settled between her legs.
He teased her, long fingers rubbing her outer lips. Then pulling away. Increasing the pressure, nearing the edge…and then pulling away again. All the while, Hudson devoured her mouth as if she was his last meal and he hadn’t eaten in days. When her hips began to gyrate, he smiled wickedly and whispered against her mouth, “What do you want?”
A groan was his answer.
“I want to hear you say it.”
She clawed at his hand and pressed it against her. “Touch me.” At the sound of her voice, he sank his fingers deep inside her.
Christ, she was wet.
Hudson felt Rebecca freeze as her muscles clenched around him. He tore his mouth away. Her lips were swollen and red, and that damn pink tongue darted out and touched her top lip in a way that made his cock twitch. Slowly, he rotated his index finger inside her, while his thumb took care of her clitoris. The small nub bloomed beneath his touch, and her head fell back against the wall as he continued to massage and tease. Her eyes glittered, heavy with passion and pleasure. And that part of him, the one that had always belonged to her, roared to life.
It was possession. It was want and need. It was the knowledge that she was his. Always his. The thought echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t take his eyes from her. Her head rolled to the side, and he increased the pressure on her clitoris while angling his long finger just so. He didn’t have to think—he knew her pleasure points—and damn, but he meant to press every single one of them.
Her hands now clutched his shoulders, and her legs trembled so much, he knew she was close. The walls of her sex clenched hard against him, and her fingernails dug into flesh as she arched her back and cried out.
“That’s it, darlin’. Come for me.” He barely got the words out.
She shattered against his hand, and her head fell forward onto his chest. Her legs gave out, but Hudson had her. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, placing her in the middle, right there where the light from outside hit. It bathed her in a glow that lit her hair up like a damn halo. There was something insanely sexy about a woman who looked like an angel, lying in the middle of a bed with her mouth swollen, legs parted, and all that pink, shiny flesh on display.
Rebecca was silent as he climbed onto the bed. He bent low and kissed a knee, caressed the small strawberry birthmark just to the left of it. His mouth continued up her thigh, and when he spied the small scar on her lower belly, he kissed that too. Every little bit of it. He licked the tattoo on her hip, chest swelling at the sight, and then gave some attention to her breasts before reaching her face.
She was trembling again, and Hudson used his arms to hold himself up so that he could see her face. He nipped at her nose and dropped a light kiss to her mouth. Everything inside him raged. His body was tight and heavy with anticipation. Her eyes were luminous. Her skin soft as silk.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered, positioning himself between her legs, loving how her hips rose to meet him. Her hands crept up to his shoulders and she pulled him down to her. Her mouth was there, right near his ear.
“Now, Huds.”
He sank into her fully, groaning loudly at the sensation of wet, hot skin on skin. Sweat broke out on his forehead, hell, it was a sheen that covered his entire body. If he had his way, he’d screw as fast and as hard as he could, because that was what his body was demanding. The need was that urgent.
Her hands were on his ass, and he clenched his jaw tight, trying to slow things down. Trying to build up something good for her. But his lady was having none of that. She slapped at him and gripped his hips with her legs.
“I don’t want to play nice, Hudson.” Her voice was throaty, and it struck a chord that set off all kinds of hot shit inside him.
“Good to know,” he growled. “We’ll go slow next time.”
He stared down at a face that had haunted him, forever it seemed, and felt something inside him give. He was close, so damn close to the edge. He picked up the pace, his body giving in to the animalistic needs that took over. He loved the way she felt, so hot and tight. Loved the way her hair spilled across the bed. The way her lips parted. The noises she made.
He couldn’t remember the last time sex had been this good. He rode them both to orgasm, and as he collapsed on the bed and pulled her close, Hudson kissed the top of her head. He listened to her breathing, to the sound of her fast-beating heart. Everything about her was the same, yet different.
His chest swelled and his throat tightened with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. But the one thought that lingered in his mind long after Rebecca fell asleep was that being with her felt like coming home.
Hudson woke up because an alarm clock erupted right beside his head. Literally beside his head. He rolled over with a groan that quickly escalated into a bunch of expletives that would make a nun blush. They didn’t stop until he located the damn clock, wedged between his right shoulder blade and the sheets. What the hell?
He sat up and turned it off, bleary eyes slowly allowing him to focus.
White sheets and white walls. Blue comforter and curtains. White furniture. Dark wood floors. He slipped from the bed and turned in a full circle. A black-and-white framed photo caught his attention. Rebecca and Liam.
He glanced back at the bed. At the tangled sheets and his clothes strewn over the floor. One boot sat on the table beside the bed. Who the hell knew where the other one was. Everything came back.
Every. Hot. Detail.
He let his mind wander as he thought back to the night before and, with a slow smile, glanced around the room. Where was Rebecca? The house was silent, and he was naked. Quickly, he found his clothes and got dressed, his mood light. He glanced around the room once more and was just about to leave when he noticed a piece of paper that had f
allen off the bed. Most likely when he’d been wrangling with the alarm clock.
He picked it up, immediately recognized the handwriting, and scanned the note. It didn’t take long for his good mood to disappear as he read Rebecca’s words. There weren’t very many of them.
I need you gone by the time I get home at noon.
That was it. All she wrote.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hudson shoved the piece of paper into the front pocket of his jeans and headed out of the bedroom. He was angry. Hell, he was more than angry. He was pissed off and insulted and there was a healthy dose of bewilderment thrown in. What the hell?
Hudson paused at the top of the stairs. The house was small, with only two bedrooms and a bath on the upper level. He glanced at his watch, curiosity getting the better of him, and took some time to peek into Liam’s room. The kid was a die-hard Red Wings and Tigers fan, with signed jerseys on the wall opposite his bed. A typical boy’s room, the bed wasn’t made, his desk had a bit of clutter, and a lone sock peeked out from under the bed.
At the bottom of the stairs, Hudson sidestepped the sheets of drywall and paint cans he’d tripped over the night before. The walls in the living room were ripped down to the studs, and the carpet had been pulled out, exposing the original hardwood floors. The planks were wide dark oak and in need of some TLC. But, judging from the equipment in the corner, they were to be refinished. The hallway was about the same, empty of anything save the materials needed to bring it back to life.
He opened a door near the alcove by the stairs. It was a bathroom, though at the moment, the toilet was in a box, and so was the shower. There were samples of tiles, glass blocks, and paint chips.
The kitchen, however? He glanced around, taking in the new stainless-steel appliances, dark granite counters, gray slate floors, and refinished white cupboards. Red was the accent color of choice, and a trio of owls—the color of a fire engine—watched him from the countertop. A simple vase of red daisies sat in the center of the small table, and black-and-white photos sporting red frames were on the wall above it.
You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake Book 1) Page 5