Found in You(103)

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.”