Found in You(100)

I wanted to push him back, push him away. At the same time, I wanted to pull him in and kiss away all the jealousy and angst between us, wanted to end the awful tension. I’d threatened our relationship, but I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t throw it away. I’d do whatever I had to in order to keep him mine.

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 f*cking 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.