The Fixed Trilogy: Forever With You(47)

The next morning, I woke before Hudson left for the day. I sat up against the headboard, watching him as he laced his belt through his slacks. “I’m glad I caught you.”

He lifted a brow. “You caught me? I was under the impression that I’d caught you.”

I tossed a pillow at him. “I mean right now. I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

He put his jacket on and turned to give me his full attention. “Why? Do you need to talk to me?”

“I don’t need to. My days are just better when they start off seeing you.”

His lips slid into a smile. He came to the bed, placing one knee into the mattress and pulling me into him. “I feel the same way. Completely.”


I wrapped my arms around his neck and played with the hair at the back of his neck. “Let’s try to make sure we start it that way more often, okay? And when we go to bed, the same thing.”

He leaned his forehead into mine. “I didn’t want to wake you, precious.”

“We never want to wake each other. Let’s get over that. I’d rather lose sleep than lose what I have with you. And sometimes I feel like with our work and day-to-day lives, we slip away from each other. This weekend reminded me how good it feels to be the center of your world.”

His expression grew warm. “You’re always the center of my world.”

I melted. Would he always be able to make me feel this good? I had a feeling the answer was yes. As long as he took the time to tell me. As long as I took the time to listen. “Well, then wake me up and tell me that before you go from now on.”

“Done.” He captured my mouth, kissing me sweetly. “You’re the center of my world, precious. Every minute of every day. Even when I’m not with you.” He brushed his lips against mine. “You make it so easy to fall so hard.”

He remembered the words of the song I sang him! My heart flipped in my chest and my eyes grew misty. I clutched onto him. “God, I love you.”

He lingered another moment, his gaze fixed on mine.

A rush of…something…swept through my body. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact emotion, and I suspected it was a combination of a whole lot of stuff—melancholy and lust and love and adoration.

But, even with all the good stuff, under all that, there was a steady pulse of dread.

He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “What is it, precious?”

“I don’t know.” How could I explain this unwarranted feeling that the beautiful thing we had was right on the edge of shattering? I brushed my hand across his cheek. “Sometimes, when you go, I’m left feeling off kilter.”

“Trust me, precious, the feeling is mutual.”

I thought about his response long after he’d left, wondering what he’d meant. Maybe he hadn’t realized that my statement wasn’t exactly a compliment.

Or maybe I had him just as off balance as he had me.

***

Mira tugged at the waistband of the blue floral A-line I was wearing. I couldn’t see myself in the mirror from where I was standing in the dressing room, but from what I could see, it looked pretty damn good.

“Turn,” she demanded.

I spun half-heartedly. I was tired of spinning, frankly. It was nearly three and after trying on dozens of outfits, we still hadn’t found the perfect one for her reopening. Scratch that. Mira hadn’t found the perfect outfit. I’d found several.

“Hmm.” She studied me with narrow eyes. “I love this one, but it’s not as good on you as I thought it would be.”

I swallowed back my sigh. “Maybe I’m not a very good model.” I suddenly had a ton of appreciation for those who modeled for a living. I loved clothes. I loved trying new clothes on. I did not, it turned out, love being poked and prodded and scrutinized by a feisty fashion expert.

Mira shook her head. “That’s the thing. You’re too gorgeous and this dress dulls you.”

Dulls me? That was a new one.

“There’s too much material,” she went on. “It’s like I’m trying to hide beauty.”

“Whatever.”

“There’s got to be something else.” She rifled through the dresses on the rack that I had yet to try on, which was not many. “All of these have the same problem. We need a perfect balance between the dress and you. We need one that shows more skin.”

“Don’t make it too skimpy or Hudson will kill you. Or me. Or both of us.” Thoughts of Hudson were never far away when I was in Mira’s shop. We’d had amazing sex right in that very dressing room— my hands pressed against the mirror, his cock thrusting in from behind—

“Hudson can bite my ass.”

Leave it to Mira to bring me back to reality. Sharply. Except now I was thinking about Hudson biting my ass…

Mira pulled a dress from the rack, looking it over. “Did you figure out if Hudson has any plans for Celia?”

“Unfortunately, I think he doesn’t.” That was what my heart was truly telling me. It was probably also why he wanted me out of town. “And did you see Celia was there at the restaurant last week?”

Mira whipped toward me. “Oh my god! She was? I didn’t see her. With Mom and everything, I guess I was distracted. Did she say anything to you?”