Hudson(56)

It takes her a minute to understand my question. “The sex?” She blushes, moving her eyes from mine. “Well, besides the obvious reason—”

“Which is?”

“It’s fun.” Her blush deepens.

“Yes, you’re right. Quite obvious.” And quite fun. It’s her other answer I’m interested in, though. “And…?”

Now she meets my gaze, her dark browns penetrating me with their transparency, with their honesty. “And I trust you,” she says.

My throat goes dry and my heart feels like it’s dropped to my stomach. It’s not what I expected her to say in a million years, though what had I expected her to say? That she’d jumped back into bed with me because I’d bullied her? Because she couldn’t resist me? Because she was in love with me?

Most anything she could have said would have had its own repercussions to face, but any other answer would have been easier to take than this one.




It suddenly seems like there isn’t enough air, and I have to sit up. I gently maneuver her legs so I have a place to sit. And then, because I’m a masochist and I have to hear it all, I say, “Go on.”

“Well…” She curls her knees again as she thinks, but doesn’t use them to hide her breasts like she did before. She’s more comfortable—quite ironic considering how uncomfortable I feel at the moment. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice.

“You said you were different now,” she says finally. “Different with me. And I realized that it doesn’t matter if it’s crazy or stupid to believe it. Because I believe it anyway. I believe you. I trust you. About this, I trust you.”

Again, she hits me with those piercing browns, and I feel like someone who’s standing before a judge waiting for his sentencing. It will either be freedom or execution, but the strange thing is that the verdict will be decided by me. By how I choose to respond to her frankness.

I already know what decision I’ll make, even before weighing my options.

There are so many reasons she shouldn’t trust me, of course, and not the least of which is that I’m currently lying and scamming her. This is a perfect opportunity to confess, and if I were decent at all, I would, even though it would certainly be the death of me.

But it’s not what I choose. Because in a very real way, I’ve been more honest with her than anyone in my entire life. Even with Celia, I smothered any emotion that ever began to creep into being. With Alayna, I’m letting that go, letting feelings slip into my existence. It’s changing me into someone who can be trusted. She’s changing me into someone who deserves those words—I trust you.

It moves me—her words, her presence, my transformation. It robs me of speech.

So I pull her into my lap and take up telling her in the way I know best—with my body. With our physical connection that transcends any connection I’ve had with another human being. I kiss her face, her eyelids, her cheeks, the curve of her jaw. Then, as my mouth travels along her neckline, I trail my hands down her sides, memorizing the lines of her ribs with my fingertips, gliding the slope of her hips with my palms.

I speak to her like this. My gestures in place of words. I’m learning for you, I say when I lick the rise of her shoulder. Your trust gives me a reason, I say as I tug her nipple to a peak. Don’t give up on me, I say as I slide my hand between her thighs to rub at her clit. I feel for you, as I lift her up and settle her on my cock.

Though I know nothing of love, I make love to her. Wholly. Completely. Undeniably.

She steadies herself with her hands on my shoulders as I buck into her and glide out. She’s warm and tight, and my crown knocks against her in a place that makes her writhe and makes my cock grow harder. She’s on top, but I control all the movement—the tempo, the force of my thrusts, the depth of my drive. It’s a love song that I sing to her, the way I hold her and kiss her and send her to a state of ecstasy, her breathy gasps the underscore. I make sure she comes—twice, even—before I grip my fingers into her hips and chase my own orgasm, reaching it when I least expect it with a sudden burst of euphoria.

It’s the sweetest sex has ever been for me. The most poetic. The most transformative.

As we settle together, spiraling down from bliss, I land in a space of clarity. I stop worrying if it’s going to be Alayna that falls apart from this affair and start accepting that it’s going to be me.





Chapter Fourteen



Before



Trying to ignore the Christmas music my mother had playing, I concentrated on entering some figures into a spreadsheet from one of the companies my father was letting me work on over the break. Plexis, a Pierce Industry subsidiary with a great outlook. If my modifications to the business plan were successful, the earnings for the coming year would far exceed what had been predicted. It was exciting enough to make spending time with my family over the holidays bearable.

“I don’t see any diamond ring size boxes under here,” my mother said behind me.

I glanced back to see her arranging the presents under the tree in the living room for the fifth time in an hour. There were more gifts than I’d ever seen growing up, and I bet that at least half of them were for the baby.

“There’s not going to be a ring, Mother. I’m not marrying Celia. I’ve told you that.”