The Fixed Trilogy: Found in You(57)

As further proof, if I needed it, he’d brought me to his place when he could have easily taken me to my own. He wanted me there, even if he couldn’t let himself be with me entirely. I knew that. Knew.

I took a deep breath, letting my tense muscles relax as I exhaled.

Then I let go.

Let go of all of it—the thoughts, the worries, the doubts. I wasn’t doing psycho. Not anymore. No more obsessing. No more examining. Just let go.

Clarity settled in. People got moody. I was still practically a stranger to Hudson’s life, relationships were new to both of us—I couldn’t expect either of us to be perfect at communicating with each other. We had to learn, and that took time.

We had time.

I stared at the empty doorway, considering what to do with myself. Watch TV? Or read a book? There were plenty to choose from. I could join Hudson in the library, work on unpacking the books.

But my gut said he needed his space. Though he’d ignored me when I asked him to leave me alone on the roof, that tactic wouldn’t work in reverse. Hudson didn’t like to be handled like I did. I loved to be handled by him. Adored it. Craved it.

Hudson, though—his walls weren’t as easy to overcome. They were mountains. I had to scale them cautiously with stealth and firm handholds. Sometimes I had to chill on a ledge and wait until the weather was better before I began my upward climb again. And sometimes, I’d reach the top of one, and he’d be there, waiting and exposed, and together we’d enjoy the breathtaking view.

Right now I was at a ledge. Chilling.

I laughed to myself. Whoever thought I’d be able to chill about a man? Yet, here I was, not acting crazy, no matter where my head wanted to go.

I stood and looked at myself in the dresser mirror. Did I look different? Paul had said I did. Did my eyes shine brighter? Were the ever-present dark circles under my eyes lighter than usual? Was this what it looked like to be mentally healthy? Because, even if my reflection showed nothing had changed, this me was completely new and amazing.

So even though Hudson’s current temperament was baffling and mysterious, I felt good. Strong.

And I’d move in. If he was going to have bouts of isolation, I’d rather still be near him physically, even if I was apart from him emotionally. Besides, that night had proven we could weather stress, and we always seemed to weather it best together.

It was after ten, but I decided to run. I changed and slipped into the penthouse gym, spending forty minutes on the treadmill, followed by a quick shower. Then, after debating over a nightie or a t-shirt or simply my panties, I settled on staying nude and climbed in bed alone. I meant it to be a message to Hudson: I’m naked for you. Bare for you. No more walls, no more guarded emotions.

When he joined me later, he’d see. He’d get what I wasn’t able to speak to him at the moment, an echo of the words that he had repeated to me over and over earlier. I’m with you. I’m with you.

I awoke sometime later in the dark room, lying on my side, with Hudson’s arm around me, his hand fondling my breast. Silently, he kissed along my shoulder and up my neck.

I sighed into him, even half-asleep my body was instantly attuned to him, ready, wanting. Slipping my hand between my thighs, I rubbed at my clit, and he thrust into me with ease. It was only moments before we’d found our rhythm, our heavy breathing the lone sound as we moved together toward the same goal.

As my climax approached, my fingers yearned to be wandering up and down the landscape of Hudson’s chest. Reaching behind to grab his ass wasn’t enough. My hands felt empty and a vague thought drifted through my mind that our position mirrored the current state of our relationship. Both of us looking forward, working together toward a singular outcome, but with Hudson still not completely within my reach. My hands reaching for something I couldn’t quite grasp.

We finished near together, and we laid there for several movements without moving or speaking. When our breathing had calmed to normal, I broke the silence. “Where did you go? Earlier.”

He nuzzled his nose into my hair. “Does it matter? I’m here now.”

I’d told Mira I’d talk to Hudson. But what was I supposed to do when he closed himself off? Even now, in the midst of intimacy, he left part of himself closed.

And maybe that was for the best. Because the parts of him that he opened were bright and blinding, like a beacon in the darkness. So I let my questions roll away, evaporating into nothing as he turned me toward him, lining me up underneath his form. Maybe conversation wasn’t needed now. We would speak as we spoke best, with physical touch, our bodies rocking in simultaneous waves. Together.

“Mon amour. Mon précieux,” he said against my ear. “Mon chéri. Mon bien-aimé.”

He was speaking French. He said he would later, with my legs wrapped around him. So I threw my lower limbs around his hips, tilting into him.

Though the words were unnecessary, he muttered them over and over as we made love again. Between the kisses he placed on my neck and on my mouth, as he rolled in and out of me in rhythm with the beautiful poetry on his tongue. “Je suis avec vous. Always. I’m with you, mon précieux.”





Chapter Fourteen


The sun was still low and streaming through a gap in the curtains when Hudson released a hand from my breast to look at his watch. “I know it’s Saturday,” he said, kissing along my shoulder, “and it’s early, but I have some business I have to take care of before it gets any later. Then I’ll ravage you nonstop the rest of the weekend.”