Hudson(41)

She turns on me, her eyes blazing with rage. “You know, it’s all very good and fine for you to say you want a committed sexual relationship. You’ll have no problem remaining unemotionally involved—that’s your default. It’s not my default. Don’t you see what you’re asking of me might be impossible for me to deliver?”

She’s on the verge of tears. I’ve seen tears—many, many times. I’ve gloried in them. They are often the sign of a victory on my part. I’ve also studied them. They’ve fascinated me and intrigued me.

Though not a single tear has escaped her eyes yet, I know that I do not want to see Alayna cry.

I reach for her, but she pulls away.

“The more we have sex, Hudson, the more I’m likely to latch on, and even if you were into that, you wouldn’t be into the level that I latch. So, trust me when I say this has bad idea written all over it. Let’s call this a wonderful—oh, my God, such a wonderful evening—and now we need to move on.”

My moment of compassion—if that’s what it was—disappears and I am left hardened. “If that’s what you need.”

“I do. And I need a shower. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. In there.” I point out the way. “I’ll bring you some towels.”

She disappears into the bathroom, and I head for the linen closet. As I pile two fluffy towels into my arms, I consider my mood. A few minutes ago, I was unbalanced and apprehensive. Now, I’m…numb. Like I am most of the time. Honestly, it should be an improvement. The strange way I’ve been acting around Alayna is unsettling.

Yet underneath the numbness, there’s something else. Something tugging at the corners of my guard trying to get out. Feeling of some sort. It’s pleasant, in a way. But also not at all.

Suddenly I want that more than anything. The something else. It’s a compulsion that impels me into the bathroom where I set the towels on the counter. I strip and then I’m sliding in the shower to join her. It’s not what she wants, she said she needed time, but here I am, unable to help myself.

She turns into me with no surprise on her face. Then her lips are on mine and any doubt I had about my actions disappears. I kiss her long enough to let her know I’m in charge. When I’ve left her breathless, I wash her. I explore her body in all the ways I haven’t yet. I speak to her like this. I have so much that I need to say to her, and this is the only way I can. The only way I know how—rubbing her, caressing her, learning her. I leave no part of her untouched.

When I brush my fingers past her clit, she moans and leans into me.

I suppose it was a bit manipulative—getting her to this point. I’ve aroused her and wound her up. For once, though, my actions were not purposeful. I’m here because I can’t not be.

“Hudson.” She says my name and it’s infused with as much confusion as I feel.

None of this has been planned or premeditated. I don’t know who I am in this moment. I rely on instinct, thrusting two fingers inside her *. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!” She gasps. “I mean, no. I want you.”

There’s a part of me that wants to sit on the bench in the walk-in shower and figure out everything going on in my head. I ignore that part and focus on the other part of me—the new part that wants only to please and tease and adore the woman in my arms.

“You’ll have to wait,” I tell her. “I’m enjoying making you wait.”

I work her, squeezing her clit and f**king her with my fingers until she’s moaning and writhing and digging her nails into my shoulders. Just as she’s about to come, I pull away. “I need to be washed too.”

I’m playing with her now, but it’s in fun. When was the last time I played like this? Without any malice? Without any need to examine? I’m not sure that I ever have.

She plays back, and I wonder if it’s new for her as well. Something about the way her hands touch me, the way she tentatively brushes my cock—I’m certain it is new for her. She strokes me once, twice. At the third stroke, I can’t take it anymore. Playtime is over.

Or it’s just beginning.

I lift her up. Her legs wrap around me and I press her back against the shower wall. I take her mouth in mine as I thrust inside her. I’m not gentle. I’m fierce, I’m forceful. Because those are the things between us. Those are the things we share. Vague intangible energy that pulls us both toward each other, into each other.

I pump her like this, quick and hard, even as she clenches down around me. I come fast after her.

We’re quiet as I towel her off and help her dress. She has to go now. She has to get to work. I wrap a towel around my waist and walk her to the door.

Despite our silence, it’s not awkward between us. I sense that she’s…absorbing. As I am. There’s a lot to take in. Though I can’t begin to even process any of it. So after I’ve kissed her and sent her on her way, I decide to not process. I turn my brain off and simply let the evening settle around me.

I’ve never stayed overnight at the loft after having a woman here. I prefer to be in my own bed without the lingering scent of sex and female. With Alayna gone now, however, I can’t make myself leave. I throw on a pair of boxers and climb into the sheets that still smell like her.