Hudson(68)

Still, I refuse to shed any light on my secrets.

So she uses the only weapon she can. “And there’s nothing going on with me and David.”

“Really? That’s not how it looked when I walked in here.”

“Just like that’s not how it looked when you left with Celia while I was still naked in your bed?”

Anger surges through me like lightning. How can she not understand? I grab her by her upper arms and pull her into me. “Leaving you that morning was the hardest f**king thing I’ve done in a long time. Don’t treat it lightly.”

Then, because she has to know how I feel and because this is the only way I know to tell her, I crush my mouth to hers. I bite and tear at her lips. I’m brutal and bruising. This, I tell her with my kiss, is how it felt to walk away.

She pulls away. “Hudson, stop.”

But I can’t. I have to get through to her. Or maybe I just need her body to calm the fury inside of me. I don’t know anything anymore except this fervent urgency to have her.

“Stop.” She pushes at my chest.

“No. I have to f**k you. Now.”

“Why? Are you marking your territory?”

Her question startles me. Is that what this is? Is this action merely an extension of my irrational jealousy? It’s not what I wanted this to be.

My pause allows her to wrestle free of my grip. “You don’t own me, Hudson! Stop messing with me like I’m one of your other women. Not with me, remember?”

It’s the truth I try not to face, slapped at me with such force I can’t deny it. “Don’t you think I know that? Every minute of every day, I remind myself that I can’t conquer you. That I can’t do that to you. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to.”

The words rush out of me so quickly, I can’t digest them until they hang in the air around us. In them is clarity. I have wanted to conquer her. As much as I’ve refuted Celia’s plans and defended my actions as benevolent toward Alayna, there has always been a part of me that wanted to own her. To master her. To win her. Was this the real reason I agreed to the game? Because I can’t help myself from playing?

The possibility pains Alayna as much as it does me. Tears spill down her cheeks. “So I am just like the others.”

“No. You’re not.” I wanted to manipulate her—it’s a desire that will never go away. But it was faint with Alayna. It lingered in the background behind so many other more prominent desires. “I told you before,” I tell her. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I need to win you.”

She’s sobbing as she says, “You’ve already done both.”

Horror washes over me like an icy shower. “Fuck!” This was not what I wanted. It was everything I’d tried to prevent. And even though I knew—I knew—that I had hurt her, the reminder of it, paired with the reminder that she’s declared her love, overpowers me. The reality of her emotions bring all of mine to the surface. I’ve f**ked everything up. There is no possibility of either of us walking away from this relationship like it was a bump in a road. There is no good decision to be made. I’ve made our story so that it can only end in pain.

I step backward, away from her, as if I can distance myself from the hell I’ve put us in.

But she follows, charging into my arms and kissing me with the same determination that I’d earlier thrust upon her.

I can’t resist. And there’s no point, really. We’re both damned no matter what.

“Alayna.” I take what she’s giving me, take it greedily. My hand kneads her breast as I lick into her mouth. My other arm pulls her closer. She says my name. She tells me she needs me. I don’t need to hear the words. I feel it in her kiss, in her body as she yields to me.

I’m quick to remove her panties and lay her on the couch. My gaze never leaves her as I undress. She’s gorgeous like this—all spread out for me, her cunt glistening with her arousal. And even beyond the erotic visual, there’s beauty in the significance of her capitulation. Even in her pain, she looks to me for comfort. Just as I look to her.

I can’t delay our connection any longer. I lower myself on top of her and drive in. I’m relentless with my speed, with my force. I’m focused only on release, mine and hers, my thumb rubbing against her clit as I pound into her. Our sex is primal and raw. It’s a mirror of our circumstances—we shouldn’t want each other, but the pull that draws us together is stronger and baser than anything we can control or contradict. I have no words for this connection, and so I shower her with the only sound that makes any sense—her name, spilling from my lips, repeatedly, reverently. Then it’s the word that announces my release as I come inside her in a savage explosion. She echoes my climax with her own, crying out while she clenches around me.

I collapse onto her, burying my head into her neck. My cock twitches inside her as it calms. She’s warm and safe, and as our breathing settles, I relax into her. This is the first time in my life that I can remember being completely at ease. Despite the lack of resolution in our predicament, I’m free in her arms.

In the sanctuary of this moment, disclosure comes naturally. “I wanted to win you. But I didn’t want to hurt you.” I tighten my grasp around her. “That’s the last thing I wanted.”