The Fixed Trilogy: Found in You(7)

“Oh, you want me, want me.”

“Uh-huh.” He shifted me so my backside was against the table. Flattening his palm between my breasts, he pushed me down; the surface of the table met hard with my backside and a brief flash of worry about spilling his coffee and breaking the cosmetic bottles entered my mind.

“And I want you now.”

Fuck the coffee. Let it spill.

Hudson nudged me back so that my bottom met up with the edge of the table, scooting the bottles out of the way with his arm as he did. I was laid out before him now, my robe open to expose the most intimate parts of me.

His eyes darkened as he rubbed his hands in long strokes from my belly up to my breasts and back again. Then they went lower, to the center of my desire.

“I could stare at your * all day long.” His fingers slid through my folds and circled my hole.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” My voice didn’t sound like mine, breathy and needy and desperate.

And what the hell was I doing? I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want him to stop. Please, god, don’t let him stop.

“I do have someplace to be. We’ll have to be quick.” His hands left me to work on opening his pants. “But I’m not leaving here without f*cking you good morning.”

I may have sighed out loud in anticipation.

Leaning up on my elbows, I watched as Hudson adjusted his pants and briefs enough to free his stiff cock. A sight I’d never tire of. And it was all mine, only mine.

Another random worry crossed my mind. “Your housekeeper isn’t going to walk in on us, is she?”

“She comes on Tuesday and Friday. If I’m not mistaken, it’s Wednesday.” He grabbed my ankles and bent my legs up. “And if she did walk in, would you care?”

He thrust in.

“No,” I gasped. Right then I didn’t care about anything but the man in front of me. The man inside me. The man who wanted me, wanted me in his house, wanted me in his bed. Wanted me in his life despite my shortcomings.

Hudson pulled out and pressed back in, again and again, the sturdy table rocking with the force of his jabs. He adopted a rapid tempo, apparently serious about the have to be quick. At this rate, he’d be there soon.

He adjusted his grip on my ankles and folded my knees into my chest, the new position bringing him deeper inside me. “Touch yourself, precious.” His voice was tight with effort to hold on. “Let’s come together.”

Without hesitation, I moved my hand to rub my clit, swirling the bud at a speed that matched his. I’d done this before—played with myself for his viewing pleasure. It was a turn-on for him, based on how quickly it always brought him to release.

It was a turn on for me, too. To see the pleasure in his face, to feel his drive increase as I writhed and moaned at my own touch—there was nothing hotter. Already, I was tightening, clenching around him.

“That’s it, Alayna.” His face contorted. “Fuck, that’s… it…” His voice broke as he came, shoving deeper into me as his climax erupted.

My hand fell to the table, my body numb.

He smiled as he pulled out. “How was that?”

He knew the answer. The perv wanted to hear me say it.

I grinned. “You can f*ck me good morning anytime you want.”

“I wouldn’t mind f*cking you good morning every morning.” He reached behind him to grab a paper towel off the kitchen counter while I pretended not to read a million things into his statement. I continued to pretend while he cleaned himself up and did up his pants.

He raised his brows and gestured toward me. For a moment I thought he might know what I was thinking—how being with him every morning implied living with him, how that was too soon, how I never thought anything was too soon because I was an obsessive freak who wanted to cling, how I was ultimately unable to handle such a proposition with my history.

Then I realized he was simply asking if I needed the paper towels, too. “I’m jumping in the shower.” Shit, he hadn’t said I could stay. “If that’s okay, I mean.” Was it totally inappropriate for me to ask if I could lounge around his place while he went to work? Because until that very second, that’s exactly what I had planned.

Hudson reached his hand out to help me down from my perch. Reaching around me, he grabbed the ends of my sash and tied it at my waist. “It’s more than okay. I want you to stay. I planned that you would stay.” Which meant I would likely find women’s shampoo and conditioner in the shower, too.

Hudson’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his suit pocket to read his text message. “My driver’s here. Seems I used up the time I meant to spend giving you the penthouse tour.”

I shrugged. “Whoops.”

“You’ll have to explore on your own.” He walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands.

“Are you giving me permission to snoop? Because it sounds like you are and you don’t understand—I’m a snooper.”

He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. I have nothing to hide. Snoop away. Use the gym. Take a nap. There’s food in the fridge. Do and take whatever you like. You work at eight tonight?”

“Yes.” I’d stopped being surprised by Hudson’s omniscient way of knowing my schedule. It was the sort of thing I’d usually do—memorize a guy’s schedule, find out all the details of his life. It was kind of nice to be on the other side of that for once.