The Fixed Trilogy

by Laurelin Paige

  I could barely breathe, afraid that if I did I’d disturb the path of our conversation. “It was.” I swallowed. “It is.”

  “Hmm.” He smiled. “I never felt this before. I didn’t know.” His swept his hands down the sides of my torso. “But, Alayna, I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship. Every woman who’s loved me…” His voice tightened. “I don’t want to break you, too.”

  “You’re not going to break me, Hudson. I thought you might, at first. Turns out you make me better. And I think I do the same for you.”

  “You do.”

  “If you decide to not…” I searched for how to say what I meant. “Follow through…with whatever this is that we have, it will hurt. But I won’t be broken.”

  “But it would hurt?”

  “Like a motherfucker.”

  “Then we better follow through.” He drew me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Alayna, you’re fired. You can’t be my pretend girlfriend anymore.” His face grew serious. “Be my real girlfriend instead.”

  Joy swept through me in a dizzying rush. “I kind of think I already am.”

  “You are.”

  “Can I still call you H?”

  “Absolutely not.” He turned his mouth to meet mine and kissed me with lips sweet and tender, but passionate all the same.

  I don’t know how long we stayed there like that—on the arm of the chair, his body wrapped around me, kissing and cuddling. Time was irrelevant in that moment we were sharing.

  Finally though, when I remembered that the club would be opening soon and that I still had a shift to work, I pulled my lips from his and asked the question that I knew was burning in both our minds. “What now?”

  One side of Hudson’s mouth curled up in a sexy smile. “Come to my place after you finish here.”

  Yes. Of course, yes! “I’m not off until three.”

  “I don’t care. I want you in my bed.”

  “Then, yes.”

  With great reluctance, I pulled myself away. I offered my hand to help him up, and he took it, rising in the graceful way of his. He let go of my hand and tugged the back of his jacket down and adjusted his tie, transforming back into the man most people knew: Hudson Pierce, ruler of the business world.

  I watched, mesmerized, still in shock that this man was mine. Mine. It was the first time I’d said it to myself, and it sounded so wonderful I thought I could never get tired of saying it—mine, mine, mine.

  His eyes swept behind him as he buttoned his jacket. “Nice couch,” he said, as if noticing it for the first time.

  “Thanks,” I laughed.

  He studied me with amusement before fixing my hair and straightening the collar of my dress. Then he took my hands in his. “Tell Jordan to take you to the Bowery. He knows where it is.”

  “Not the fuck pad?” My voice seemed unusually high, laced with surprise and excitement.

  “No. My home. I’ll leave a key with the doorman.”

  I hadn’t been anywhere but the loft with him and didn’t even know where he lived. I’d thought it was a good thing before. But now that he’d invited me, there was no other place I’d rather be.

  And, besides, I was ready—ready to stop being afraid of making mistakes, ready to let myself be truly healed of my past, ready to start again without fear of regret.

  Lacing my fingers through his, I giggled. Since when did I giggle? “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Moving forward.”

  “We are.”

  He pulled me in for another embrace, seemingly as unable to let go of me as I was unable to let go of him. As fixed on me as I was on him.

  “I’m going to rock your world,” I said at his ear before sucking on the lobe.

  He nipped at my neck, kindling my desire yet again. “I can’t wait,” he said.

  “Neither can I.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  For as many times as I’ve composed these in my head, this task should be easy. Yet, as I sit here preparing to acknowledge the people who helped make Fixed on You a reality, I’m overwhelmed.

  Deep breath and start somewhere.

  First, a deep well of gratitude to my husband, who let me take the time to write and always missed me when I was in my book world, but never pressured me to return (almost never.) No matter who the main guy is, honey, it’s always you.

  To my children, who somehow managed to grow and thrive despite my frequent lack of attention. You are the lights of my life; thank you for letting Mommy be a person too.

  To my mother, who has always encouraged me and is still proud despite the subject matter of my books.

  To Bethany for the copyedits—you are truly a lifesaver—and for telling me, “That’s not where this story begins.” Also, for your editorial letters (I treasure them) and being an endless cheerleader, while still giving meaningful advice that always rang true. I’m glad I could bring some magic to your bath time.

  To Sophia for my cover—it’s exactly what I wanted. But also for much more. The motivation, the heart, the strength. You’ve taught me more about the publishing/writing world than anyone, and I can’t begin to express my thanks. And yet I try: thank you, thank you, thank you.

  To Robyn, for being the idea person in my life. Even though I often didn’t take it, I always treasured your advice. You are brilliant. I mean, blow pops? GENIUS!

  To Tristina: You are a surrogate parent to all my romances—none of them would ever be ready to send into the world without your wise input and dedication in reading each and every version. If anyone asks, Hudson is yours.

  To Robyn, Jackie, and Lisa. Each of you added very different but beloved layers to this book. Thank you for giving my words the time.

  To Alessa—your transparency and answering of my endless questions has been more than anyone could ever ask from another person. You are a goddess in my book.

  To the WrAHM society—an adequate thank you to all of you amazing women would result in another book. And lots of alcohol. And dirty pictures. You girls are the support and friendship I’ve been looking for. Gen, thanks for creating this group—it’s changed my life.

  To Bob Diforio, my agent. Not many agents are on board with self-publishing. Thanks for being open-minded and supporting me in this decision.

  To Julie and AToMR tours. You are worth so much more than you’re paid. Thank you for helping get this book out there.

  To Joe, my bestie. You lived through all the ups and downs and wallowing and celebrating and always had good advice and never let on how annoying I was. I owe you a drink. Or seven.

  To my readers—though I don’t know who you are as I’m writing this, I do know that Fixed on You is now in your hands and anything great that happens from here on out is all due to you.

  To my Creator for the talent and the gifts that have been given to me. I am truly, truly blessed.

  FOUND IN YOU

  Book 2 in the Fixed Trilogy

  by Laurelin Paige

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2013 by Laurelin Paige

  ISBN-13: 978-1-62704-020-4

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First edition October, 2013.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  Chapter One

  I paused at the doorway to the Park Avenue high-rise and stared at the building’s name engraved on the stone. The Bowery. Jordan had already pulled away from the curb behind me. He probably felt I was safe enough to be left with the doorman who held the door for me while I stood frozen in thought.

  This was real, a big step—a giant step—moving deeper into Hudson’s life than anyone had ever been before. I was exci
ted, of course. I loved the man. But did I really even know him? Could I truly love him based on the little I knew about him? His address had been a mystery to me until two minutes ago when his driver had dropped me off. And what would I find inside the building? What was inside Hudson Pierce, behind the mask he wore so well?

  I felt like I’d seen the true Hudson, like I was probably the only person in the world who truly had, but I’d barely scratched the surface. There was still so much left to uncover and learn about the young business mogul who had captured my heart.

  I also knew that Hudson held secrets. He’d abandoned his mind games and predilection for manipulating women before meeting me, but the possibility of his past habits returning was very real. As real as the possibility of mine returning.

  And that was the fear that overwhelmed me most—that I might be driven to my old habits of obsession. Of all the relationships I’d destroyed with my stalking and unfounded jealousy, I knew that fucking this one up would destroy me. Thankfully, so far, I had felt fixed with Hudson. Only time would tell if that would last.

  The doorman looked at me, an anxious expression on his face—should he continue holding the door open for the crazy indecisive woman, or should he let it go?

  I eased him with a smile. “I’ll be just a minute.”

  He returned the smile with a nod and closed the door.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked toward the top floor where Hudson’s apartment was surely located—I didn’t even know his unit number. Was he awake up there? Was he looking for me from his window? Could he see me down here, hesitating?

  He said he’d be sleeping, but it was that last idea that gave me the courage to move. I wouldn’t put it past him to wait up for me and I didn’t want him to suspect I felt any doubt at all. Because I didn’t have doubts. Not about him. My doubts were about me, about whether I could handle us. And truly, if I let my hopes take root—hopes that I could finally have a real relationship with another person without losing myself to the fears and unhealthy habits of my obsessive past—then even those doubts were superficial.

  The doorman smiled again as I stepped toward him, opening the door for me. Inside, another man sat at the security desk in front of the elevators.

  “Ms. Withers?” he asked before I had a chance to give him my name.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. Hudson said he’d leave a key for me at the desk and it was three-thirty in the morning. Who else would I be?

  I nodded.

  “Mr. Pierce left you this key. Both elevators on the left will take you to the penthouse. Simply insert the key into the panel when you get inside.”

  “Thank you.”

  The doors opened the minute I pushed the call button. Inside the elevator car, my hand shook as I inserted the key in the panel, and I was grateful to no longer be in sight of the security guard. The ride to the penthouse was fast, but not fast enough. As soon as I’d squashed down my trepidation, the emotion had been replaced with eagerness. I wanted to be in Hudson’s space, in his arms. I wanted to be with him and even the minute that it took to arrive at the top floor was too long to be away from him.

  The doors of the elevator opened into a small vestibule. I stepped out and turned the only direction I could, finding myself in a foyer. The space was quiet, but I could hear the sound of a clock ticking somewhere nearby, and there were very few lights on. I suspected the bedrooms were to my left, because my right opened up to a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows.

  As anxious as I was to find Hudson, I turned instead into the living room, attracted by the gorgeous view. Before I made it to the windows, though, a lamp flipped on and I saw him sitting in an armchair.

  Startled, my mouth fell open and then stayed open as I ogled the gorgeous man dressed only in boxer shorts. The definition of his sculpted chest quickened my heart before my gaze caught his gray eyes through the flop of his brown hair in the dim light. I’d never seen him in boxer shorts, and damn, had I been missing out. It struck me again how little I knew him, but this time the thought didn’t scare me—it excited me. How much more there was to discover about this man, and I was ready to dive in and explore.

  Yet, the excitement didn’t ease the awkwardness, the anxiety. This was new territory, and I didn’t know how to proceed. Certainly, Hudson felt the same.

  My hand held tight to my purse while the other absentmindedly clutched at the blue fabric of my dress, a short A-line that hedged the border of professional and sexy. It was the type of outfit I always wore at The Sky Launch, the nightclub where I worked as an assistant manager. The nightclub Hudson owned. The place I’d met him.

  A memory flashed through my mind of the first time I’d seen him sitting at the end of the club’s bar, of how he took my breath away. I’d known then I should’ve run. But I didn’t. And now, I couldn’t be more grateful.

  He took my breath away now like he did then. With a meek smile, I braved breaking the silence. “You’re awake.”

  “I thought it would be best to be waiting for you when you got here so that you wouldn’t be disoriented.”

  “But you should be sleeping.” As president of Pierce Industries, a multi-billion dollar company, his hours conflicted with mine at the club. Coming over in the middle of the night, when his daily wake-up time was six in the morning—what was I doing? How could our two very separate lives ever be compatible?

  No, I wouldn’t think that way. That was an excuse to deny myself happiness. And Hudson and I both deserved some happiness, for once in our lives.

  The object of my desire stood and crossed to me, lifting the hand that held my purse. “I slept. Now I’m awake.” That simple touch quieted my trepidation to a dull buzz, easy to ignore under the thud of my heart. That’s what Hudson did to me, overwhelmed and astounded me in such a beautifully delicious way.

  He took my purse from me and moved to set it on the end table.

  Without his contact, my nerves returned and mindless small talk slipped from my lips. “I’ve never been in a penthouse before. Unless you count the loft.” The loft above his office, the place where he’d fucked me to oblivion. Thank god the dark room hid my blush. “This is beautiful, H.”

  “You’ve barely seen any of it.” He didn’t cringe at my absurd nickname for him. Perhaps he was getting used to it.

  “But what I can see…” My eyes scanned the expansive living room, noting the ornate detail of the architecture and the simplicity of the styling. “It’s incredible.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “It’s much different than I expected. Not like the loft. That’s what I thought it would be like.” The loft was black and leather, masculine and strong. This place was white and light—I could tell that even in the low glow of the lamp and the moon.

  “Alayna.”

  My name on his tongue sent goose bumps to the surface of my skin. How could he still do that to me? Turn me on with only a word? Turn me into knots so easily?

  “The furniture is so different, too.” Nervousness drove me to talk, avoiding the connection we’d make the minute I gave in. I stepped toward the white sofa and ran my hand across the expensive upholstery. “But Celia decorated this place too, right?”

  His voice tightened. “She did.”

  Celia Werner, his childhood friend and ex-fiancée. Well, not really, but practically. Why had I brought her up? Was I trying to destroy us? Celia had been a constant source of tension in our relationship since Hudson had hired me to convince his mother that we were together. Sophia Pierce, believing her son was incapable of love, thought a pairing with the daughter of her good friends the Werners was a perfect match for Hudson. Even if he couldn’t feel anything for her, Celia could at least keep him in line—keep him from getting in trouble with his addictions.

  Except it turned out Hudson could love. And during our ruse, he’d fallen in love with me.

  Still, Hudson had something with Celia, a bond that fueled my jealousy. Deflecting, I moved to the wind
ows. “The view here… “

  “Alayna.”

  I pressed my face against the glass and looked down to the world far below. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Hudson came up behind me, his warmth emanating against my back even though he hadn’t yet touched me. “Alayna, look at me.”

  Slowly, I turned to him.

  He lifted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. I want you here.”

  His words were the consolation I needed, sending calm over every part of my worry like a blanket smothering a fire. “Are you sure?” I’d been eased, but I wanted more where that came from. “You’ve never brought a woman here before, have you? It’s weird, isn’t it?”

  His thumb stroked my cheek, my skin awakening under his caress. “It’s different, because I haven’t brought a woman here, but it’s not weird. And I am completely sure that I want you to be here.”

  I thrilled at the confirmation that I was the first woman he’d allowed in, the first woman he’d make love to in this house. “Me, too. I mean, I’m sure that I want to be here.” His gaze burned into me. I could get lost there forever and that scared me just enough.

  Looking for a way to keep myself, for only a moment longer, I glanced over at the room connected to the living room. “What’s over there? Is that the dining room?”

  “I’ll give you a tour in the morning.” He brought his other hand up to cradle my face, capturing my eyes again with his.

  “A tour in the morning,” I repeated. And there I went—lost to him. “But not now.”

  “No, not now. Now I want to welcome you to my home.” His mouth crashed into mine, taking me to dizzying heights that put the view behind me to shame. His lips sucked my own before his tongue slid inside my mouth with delicious strokes that threw me off balance, provoking me to throw my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.