Found in You(64)

He ignored me, pulling me into his arms. I resisted, which was senseless, really. He could overpower me in a heartbeat.

Still, I leaned into the door, pushing him away.

“Stop it. Stop fighting me.” He caught each of my arms in his and held them, his hands circling my forearms with strength I couldn’t hope to defeat. “Stop fighting.”

“Then stop hurting me,” I sobbed.

He knew I didn’t mean physically. He wasn’t gripping me that tightly.

“All right.” He let go of me, his voice full of resignation. “You can come. If you really want to be part of this awful night, then you are welcome to join me.”

My tears had frozen, surprised that I’d won. I’d never won these battles. They usually ended in me groveling, and then, when the guy refused to take me back, I would resort to crazy behavior. Like stalking. And stealing mail. And showing up at places where I knew the guy would be.

It never ended with me still with the guy.

Maybe because I was so relieved or because I was in shock, or more likely because I suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty about the whole conversation, I burst into a new set of tears.

“Now what?”

My crying continued, but this time I let him pull me into his arms. “I’m such a bitch,” I said into his shoulder.

“What?”

I lifted my mouth from the material of his jacket. “I’m a total bitch. I didn’t mean to pressure you into an invite, and I did. I won’t go, I’ll stay home.” He’d asked me out of duress. It felt shitty.

Hudson pulled me tighter against him, kissing the top of my head. “You’re not a bitch. And you didn’t pressure me into anything. You’re coming with me. It will be awful, but at least it will be awful together.”

Wiping the tears from my face, I raised my eyes to his. “Are you sure?”

“I’m completely sure it will be awful.”

I chuckled. “Are you sure I can come?”

He leaned his head against mine, placing a hand on my cheek. “I am. I want you there. I always wanted you there.” He trailed his hand down my neck. “But my mother is mean and terrible and she wants to hurt me. And she knows the easiest way to hurt me is to hurt you.” His hand at my waist gripped me tighter, his fingers digging through my dress into my skin. “I can’t bear to watch you go through that.”

It was my turn to assure him. I reached up, placing my hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. “Nothing she says or does means anything to me. Do you hear me? I already won. I have you.”

His eyes clouded—not simply with the lust that often darkened his gray hue when he looked at me—but with emotion that I could only name as love.

He pulled me even closer, as if he could pull me into him if he tried hard enough. “You do have me. Completely.”

I don’t know if I moved to him or he moved to me, just that our mouths were together, shifting in such a way that it was much more than kissing. It was a declaration—a statement of a union   between the two of us that we couldn’t yet express in any way besides with our bodies.

When he pulled away, I was breathless and flushed.

His eyes lowered to my outfit. “You’ll need a dress. We should have time to stop by the boutique.” He reached across me and pushed the intercom. “Jordan, change of plans. Take us to Mirabelle’s.”





Chapter Ten




Mirabelle owned one of the hottest boutiques in New York City. Despite never needing to work a day in her life, the middle Pierce child had an eye for clothing design and she put it to good use. Her shop was by appointment only, and I’d nearly lost myself in fashionista heaven when Hudson had taken me to purchase racks of clothing almost two weeks before.