But I wasn’t letting my cards show yet. I didn’t touch him at all. I stayed rigid as I spoke. “You aren’t making this decision because it’s good business. You’re trying to punish me.”
His eyes widened. “I’m punishing you by giving you a promotion?”
“A promotion I don’t want!”
He spun away from me, as though he were too afraid of what he’d do if he stayed in such close proximity. When he’d taken a few steps, he turned back to face me. “You want me to take everything from you, but you won’t take from me? How am I supposed to feel about that?”
“This isn’t the same.” He was twisting my words, taking something I’d said in a time of beauty and bringing it into a war zone. It hurt. Deep, in my bones. I wanted it to stop. “I don’t want this, Hudson. I don’t want it!”
I turned to run away. Where, I didn’t know. Just away from him and the terrible situation he was putting me in.
But I’d only made it a few steps when he came after me, his arms circling around my waist from behind.
I squirmed, kicking and hitting at him. “Let go of me!”
“No. I’ll never let you go.” He must not have meant physically, because he did let me go. He threw me on the couch and began undoing his pants.
Immediately my sex felt on fire. The thought of him fucking me with all that rage and passion was a big turn-on. And, honestly, we probably needed the contact—to reconnect before we grew too far apart.
But I was headstrong, not willing to give in. I slipped under him to the floor, crawling toward the elevators as fast as I could.
His strong hand grabbed my ankle, drawing me back to him. I clawed at the floor, but I already knew it was hopeless. Not because he was stronger than me, but because he knew what I really wanted—that I wanted him to overpower me.
He stretched out over me, holding me to the floor, both my hands pinned above my head with one of his. He nipped at my ear. “God, you are so maddening. How can I want you so much when you drive me so insane?”
Using his whole body, he turned me underneath him and crushed his mouth to mine in a fierce kiss—a kiss that was forceful and dominating and full of so much emotion.
I resisted at first, turning my head away from him. But he was relentless and his unusual display of emotion disarmed me. My head was overruled by my body—by my heart—and I surrendered to him, giving in to his demanding mouth and the masterful hands that had already freed his rock-hard cock.
He reached down under my dress, moving the flimsy thong material out of the way to stick a long finger inside me. If he didn’t understand my need before, he did now. I was wet and swollen for him.
He groaned in satisfaction.
“It doesn’t mean I’m not mad.” It was my last attempt to state my case before he replaced his finger with his cock.
I cried out at the exquisite bite of pleasure, the incredible feeling of fullness, almost too much yet also not enough. I needed him to move, to thrust, to ride me.
“Fine,” he said, jabbing deeper into me, still not moving the way I ached for him to. “Be mad. Take it out on me. I’m planning to take out my emotions on you.”
And he did. He drew himself out almost to the tip. It must have taken more control than I could imagine, his contorted expression showing the strain of the slow retreat. Then he let go, pounding into me with thick, insistent stabs. My hips bucked at each deep plunge in rhythm with his primal grunts. Even the sound of his loose belt buckle slapping against the floor added to the animalistic way he took me, as if it were a whip driving the beast, urging him on.
I moaned and tightened around him within minutes, surprised to feel the build of orgasm so quickly with only vaginal stimulation. It was the whole scene, the depravity of it, the utter baseness. It was wild and feral and uncontrolled. I hated that I loved it—loved it so entirely.
He wrapped his loose hand in my hair, yanking at it with just the right amount of pleasure and pain. My eyes began to close.
“Look at me,” he snapped.
My eyes flew open, meeting his.
“Can’t you see?” I was surprised he could speak through his exertion. “Can’t you see what you do to me? Can’t you see how you make me feel?”
He shifted, and I gasped as he hit a particularly tender spot. “Do you feel how hard you make me?”
I didn’t know if he wanted an answer, didn’t think I could speak if he did.
But he tugged again at my hair. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I cried out.
He picked up his speed, reaching a frenzied pace that threw me over the edge. “You do this to me, Alayna.”
I struggled to keep my eyes on him, to focus on his words through the rapturous haze that enveloped me. His words were important, and I wanted to hear what he said as much as I wanted to lose myself in the ecstasy he’d bestowed on me.
He was on the brink, too—I could read his body like it was my own—but still he kept his gaze connected to mine. “Even when you’re petulant and contrary, I still want you. Always, I want you. I want to give you everything. All of me. Why can’t you take it? Take it.”
He delivered one more elongated thrust, burying himself deeply as he poured into me with a low groan. “Take it!”
I whimpered as his release shuddered through me, extending my own into a second wave of euphoria that sent chills down my spine. Lost in the fog of post-orgasm, my ears still thrumming with the pulse of my heartbeat, I had a brief moment of clarity—what if it wasn’t Hudson that was incapable of being loved fiercely, but me?
The thought was fleeting, gone as soon as it had come. Of course, I could take his love. It was he who didn’t know how to show it.
He’d rolled off me by then and was sitting with his back braced against the sofa. Only traces of the wild passion he’d displayed a moment ago were present in his features, his shortness of breath one of the only indicators that he’d ever lost control.
Suddenly I was angry. Angry with him for resorting to fucking as a way to end our disagreement like he always did. Angry that he expected it would change anything. Angry at myself for being seduced.
I propped myself up on my elbows and glared.
“Now, come on, Alayna.” His eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
His condescending tone irked me even more. “Sex isn’t the only way to show a person how you feel.”
“I know. I tried to give you a nightclub.”
His words stung though I couldn’t quite grasp why.
I was still figuring it out when he stood and zipped himself up. “If you want to continue fighting about this, which I’m sure you do, it will have to be later. I have work to do.”
My scowl remained long after he’d left. It was almost funny that I felt so enraged. I’d thought he’d fall to pieces if he’d known I wasn’t telling him things about my past with David, that I’d withheld my interaction with Paul Kresh. And if he’d gone crazy because I’d hidden things, I would have taken it. I’d kept things from him, and I deserved whatever distrust and hurt feelings that came from that.
But it hadn’t been my keeping secrets that put us on opposite sides. It had been his jealousy and my refusal to take over the club. Either he’d always truly meant to give me The Sky Launch, or he was manipulating the situation with David to make me believe that. Both were possible. I’d probably never know for sure which one. Maybe he didn’t know himself.
One thing was certain, I wasn’t letting David get fired, whatever the reason. One day, perhaps, I’d be ready and want to take over the management of The Sky Launch, but not now. Not so soon. Not only a month after graduating with my MBA.
And I wouldn’t do that to a manager as good as David. It wasn’t right.
I brought myself to my feet and stretched. The discussion wasn’t over, but I could put it on p
ause for the night if Hudson could. And I didn’t intend to mope around about it. It was unhealthy and could quickly turn to obsession if I wasn’t careful. Which meant I had to find something to occupy myself.
I looked at my watch and was surprised to find it was after six. Guess I was skipping group therapy since I’d already missed it. I didn’t have the energy for exercise, so that was out. There was a TV in the living room, but I preferred movies to shows and I hadn’t yet come across any DVDs. Hudson probably had everything on a movie drive somewhere. I wasn’t about to ask where. I’d already finished The Talented Mr. Ripley.
Actually, what I should do was work on the library. Another slew of packages had arrived on Friday and the room was crammed with unopened boxes. I should have unpacked them over the weekend, but I’d been too content to lie around naked with Hudson, doing nothing but each other. I’d put it off too long. So what if Hudson was already working in there at his desk. We were grown-ups. We could share the space.
Though the library was big, the room felt confined with the tension still lingering between us. Hudson sat at his desk, focused intently on his computer screen. It was as if he didn’t even know I was in the room. But he did. Of course, he did. He could seem so single-minded, so compartmentalized, but he was always aware of me in every way, as I was always aware of him. I simply wasn’t as good at hiding it as he was.
I took a deep breath and knelt at the stack of boxes furthest from him. Soon, I was wrapped up in the task of unloading and alphabetizing, enjoying the thrill of each newly discovered book title. He’d purchased so many great ones. Classics and contemporaries. Many I’d read, many I wanted to read, many I wanted to reread.
It was after I opened the box with the DVDs that I realized it. Not right away. At first, I was surprised to find the contents were movies rather than books, but I simply started on another section of the shelves and began unloading, not paying too much attention to the titles until I pulled out Midnight Cowboy—the movie Hudson and I had watched while we were in the Hamptons. He’d pulled up the list of AFI’s Greatest Movies, a list I was slowly working my way through, and he’d told me to choose one I hadn’t seen. I chose Midnight Cowboy.
Seeing it in the box, it hit me. I looked over the titles I’d shelved to be sure, and yep, it was true. Each and every movie was on the AFI list. And the books—I ran to look over the books, paying more attention this time. The Brothers Karamazov, Anna Karenina, Catch-22, Beloved—they were all titles from The Greatest Books list. I’d told Hudson I wanted to read them all before I died. And here he’d bought them for me. Each and every one.
I was suddenly overcome with emotion. It was a strange thing to move me, but it did. Before he’d decided to commit to me, before he’d asked me to come to his penthouse, let alone move in with him, he’d purchased a library full of books and movies tailored specifically to my interests.
He hadn’t said I loved you. Maybe he never would. But was there anything this man did that didn’t show me how much he did love me?
I was halfway to his desk before I’d even thought about what I was doing. He must have heard me coming, because even though he didn’t look at me, he swiveled in his chair, opening toward me a bit. Maybe it had been subconscious, that he aligned himself with me as I often did with him. It was nice to think so.
I fell at his feet, placing my head on his thigh.
He shifted and I could tell that I’d surprised him.
“Make love to me,” I said, my face nuzzling against his leg. “Please. Make love to me.”
I held my breath as I waited for him to respond. I heard him click his mouse a few times and then set his glasses on the desk—the glasses he only wore when he read or worked on his computer because he was slightly farsighted. There were some things I knew about him.
Then he bent down and lifted me with him to a standing position in one fluid movement.
Cradling me in his arms, he carried me to the bedroom—our bedroom—not a word spoken between us. He laid me on the bed. Silently, with such tenderness, he undressed me, then himself.
He stretched over me and kissed me—every inch of me from head to toe. He lingered in new areas, cherishing my belly button and the spot behind my knee and the sensitive area at my tailbone. Every part of my skin, he lavished with attention, adoring me as he’d never adored me before, yet each touch, each caress felt familiar. Like home.
When at last he settled himself between my thighs, he entered me with slow precision. And it was with sweet, languid strokes that he took me to orgasm, not once, not twice, but three times.
He met my eyes the last time, and we maintained the contact as I rode the wave of euphoria. Then he joined me, moaning low as his climax spiraled into mine, our gazes still fixed on each other. And even when my vision glazed over with fireworks, all I could see was him and love. So much love.
Chapter Seventeen
Hudson was already dressed and bustling around when I awoke the next morning. I peered at him with one eye closed then ventured a look at my watch. It wasn’t even quite six yet.
He either saw me stirring or was so in tune with me that he recognized my breathing had left sleep mode. “Do you mind sharing, or do you want your own suitcase?”
I yawned, my brain still fuzzy. “Um, suitcase for what?”
“For Japan.”
I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. “Japan? Why would I go to Japan?”
“Because I’m going to make that play for Plexis. And I want you to come with me.”
I sat up, realizing I should be concentrating harder on the conversation. Hudson was putting his toiletries into a suitcase propped on a folding luggage rack. A travel bag for suits was already zipped up and hanging on the bedroom door. “When exactly is this happening?”
Hudson stopped packing and flashed his heart-stopping smile—the widest one he had that he used so rarely and which always got the butterflies fluttering in my tummy. He was obviously in a good mood. “The plane’s set to take off late tonight. It’s a long flight. Might as well sleep. Or, we could not sleep.” His eyes gleamed wickedly. “It would be easier to adjust to the time difference if we stayed awake the entire flight.” His gaze wandered to my naked breasts. “I’m sure we could think of something to occupy our time.”
With a frown, I flung the sheet off my legs, rose and headed toward the bathroom. “I can’t go to Japan tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have work,” I called over my shoulder. Thinking of work, I suddenly remembered the whole evening before—Paul and David, and Hudson wanting me to run the club. Then the spectacular lovemaking. I wasn’t sure where that left everything.
“So what about work?”
Where were we in our conversation? Oh, yes, Japan. “I have work. You know? That thing you do where you go someplace and make lots of money? Even those of us who don’t make lots of money still do the work part. In fact, it’s even more necessary for us.”
“Anything you need, I can provide. I expect to provide.”
I’d left the door open while I peed so I could still hear him clearly. It felt nice having that level of comfort with a guy, but I wasn’t so sure about the provide thing he was talking about. “Hey, we just moved in together. Can we step back and keep this on the topic at hand?”
“Fine. But that discussion will come eventually. Sometime soon.”
My stomach twisted with both panic and anticipation. Dammit, what was this man doing to me?
“You make your own schedule.” His voice seemed close. I looked up to see him leaning in the doorway.
My brow knitted, still hung up on his last statement. I really needed coffee before embarking on such mind-spiraling discussions. “Because I make my own schedule doesn’t mean I can leave on a moment’s notice.”
“Sure you can. I own the club.”
“Funny how you pretend you
don’t until it’s convenient for you to remind me.”
He grinned but didn’t dispute.
“And don’t think we’re done talking about the club management.” I wiped, flushed and washed my hands, flinging droplets of water on him as I pushed past him back to the bedroom.
He followed me as I went to my closet. “I didn’t think that for a minute. But right now we’re talking about Japan.”
“I have a meeting set up with Aaron Trent tomorrow. I can’t miss that.”
“Reschedule. He’ll make time for you.”
“That’s so tacky.” I pulled out a pair of plain cotton underwear. I hadn’t showered yet and didn’t feel like wasting a pair of nice ones. “He already thinks I rescheduled once.”
“Why? I thought it had been he who canceled?”
“Long story.” Hudson’s eyes stayed glued to me as I pulled on a sports bra. “And you’re distracting me from my point.”
“I think you’re the one distracting me.”
“They’re put away, you sex fiend. You can surely find my eyes now.”
He laughed. Yes, he definitely was in a good mood. “Tell Trent something came up and reschedule.” He handed me a pair of running shorts. “He’ll understand. I’ll make him if I have to.”
“You know I want to handle him myself.” I stepped into the shorts and found a tank to pair with them.
I grabbed some socks and turned to face him. He was staring at me—not my body—at my face, waiting for me to continue. I sighed. He was serious about the trip. And I was not. I gave it sincere thought for about for fifteen seconds.
The idea still seemed ludicrous. “It’s not only him, Hudson. I have other things I’m working on. And I don’t even have a passport.”
“I already have that arranged.”
“I don’t even want to know how you pulled that off.” I pushed past him again and headed for the bed. I sat on the edge and put on my socks.