Hudson(29)

I see it when the disappointment and concern settle in. Wanting to ease her, I brush a hand down her cheek. “Not here, precious. Not like this.” I wrap my other hand around her neck and press my forehead to hers. “I will have you beneath me. In a bed. Where I can adore you properly.” This promise is the only thing keeping me gentlemanly. I won’t have her tonight. But I will have her.

I trail my hand down to her bra where I know she keeps her phone. I feast on the curve of her breast as I remove her cell. I swipe her screen and call my own phone. I hang up as soon as it rings. I already have her number, of course, but I want her to see that I’ve gotten it legitimately. “Now we have each other’s numbers. I expect you to use it.”

I replace her phone inside her bra, my eyes lingering once more on the swell of her cleavage. My di**ck is so hard it hurts. It’s a risk kissing her again, so I simply brush my lips across hers. “Call me when you’re ready.” Except I’m afraid she won’t be ready as soon as I’d like, so I add, “Tomorrow.”

I kiss her chastely and rush out. I will definitely need a turn with my hand tonight. Even two turns may not be enough to relieve me.





Chapter Eight



Before



I drove myself to the Brookes’ party. Usually if there was a chance I might get drunk, I would have relied instead on a driver. But I needed full control that night—that required no drinking and an easy escape route. After the shaky ending to the previous evening, I’d decided it was time to wrap the Celia experiment up for good. I’d made it clear there would be no us until she broke up with her boyfriend. If she didn’t offer to end things with him at this point, then I’d have to change my conclusion. Maybe her silly attachment was stronger than I thought. Maybe I was wrong.

But I doubted that.

I arrived after the sun had set and the party was in full swing. I wanted Celia waiting for me by the time I showed up. Part of me was surprised that she hadn’t tried to call me to make sure I was still coming. Though, with the way she’d left things the night before, I bet that she was giving me space. I also bet it was killing her.

I parked my car far from the house so I’d be sure to not be blocked in. As I walked up the long drive, I noted that Celia’s car wasn’t there. It didn’t mean anything. She could have been driven. She likely figured I’d give her a ride home. That wasn’t in my plans.

I halted for a moment at the front walk. What exactly were my plans? If Celia decided she was breaking up with Dirk, I’d have to tell her it was all a misunderstanding, of course. But after that, when she was crying and quite possibly mad as hell—what then? I was consumed with wanting to know her full reaction. In my dream ending, she’d make a public display and I’d be a front row spectator. This was the most fascinating part of the entire study, after all. Emotions. How they weakened the strong. How they deluded the intelligent. How they transformed a person into someone unrecognizable. I had an advantage with Celia that I hadn’t had with many of my previous studies—I knew people in her life well enough to be privy to the aftermath. I’d hear from my mother how quickly she recovered, whether or not Celia decided to get back with Dirk. I’d probably be on Sophia’s shit list for it, but that would be an improvement from being not on her list at all.

But wait. I was getting ahead of myself. Celia hadn’t even broken up with her boyfriend yet. No need to worry about the after when I was still in the before.

Inside the house, I grabbed a beer and found a group of acquaintances to sit with. Though I didn’t plan to drink much of it, I needed the bottle in hand as a prop. It made me seem casual, relaxed. The less desperate I appeared to Celia, the better. When she found me and realized I’d had no urgency to find her, I suspected it would raise her own desperation. She’d invite me to talk. I’d shrug and go along. My aloof demeanor would force her to play her best hand.

It was only a guess. But it was calculated and I had a good deal of faith in it.

When nearly an hour went by, and I’d seen no sign of The Subject, I began to wonder if I’d overestimated my holdings. Had she decided not to come? Looking for her was out of the question. Inquiring about her would also give up some of my leverage. But if I were careful about the way I asked…

I hooked eyes with Christina across the room. She’d been trying to get my attention for the last fifteen minutes, and I’d pretended not to notice. But damn, I noticed. She was wearing a short skirt that rode her hips and a halter top so high that miles of skin showed in between. She oozed sex. Her f**k-me lips were painted with a light gloss that made them look like they’d just been licked. She was a distraction—a distraction that I didn’t need.

But if anyone knew of Celia’s whereabouts, it was her.

I played the staring game with her, exchanging lewd glances until she beckoned me over. I pretended to consider it. Then I made my way through the swarm of bodies toward her, hoping that the stiffy I was sporting wouldn’t be witnessed by Celia. Maybe, if I worked the situation right, Christina could be my reward for concluding my experiment. Too consumed with my plans to think about my cock, it had been weeks since I’d gotten laid. Too long. I needed to be buried in * soon. And Christina Brooke was in possession of a more than acceptable *.

She leaned against the dining room archway as I approached, her eyes pinned on me. “Hudson Pierce.” She said my name with a slow seductive smile. “It took you long enough.”