The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You (16 page)

“You aren’t really an asshole.”

He brought one finger to his mouth. “
Shh.
You’ll ruin my reputation.”

We continued the game through dinner at a clam bar in Sayville, covering a variety of topics from favorite movies to worst dates to first kisses. Hudson and I had very few things in common, but that only intrigued me more, and I had the distinct impression he felt the same. Most of our differences seemed to come from our backgrounds rather than our tastes. I didn’t know if I loved the opera—I’d never been. And my favorite pastime—buying one movie ticket and sneaking into several movies after—was born of a lack of funds that Hudson had never experienced.

Underneath it all, we both knew we shared one very vital commonality—our destructive pasts. Though we seldom spoke of it, it shadowed many of our confessions. But unlike with other men when I went through the routine of talking about myself, I didn’t feel like I was holding back the truth. I wasn’t lying, like I had to so many others. We didn’t talk about it, but it didn’t lie in the deep recesses of ourselves, threatening to be revealed. It made the simple exchanges between us easier and more poignant.

After dinner when we returned to the road, we played the game at a relaxed pace, letting long moments of comfortable silence fill the spaces between turns. Finally, Hudson turned off Old Montauk Highway onto a private drive. At the gate midway down the entry, he entered a code that opened the wooden doors and allowed us to continue past the high hedge to the circle driveway. He stopped the car in front of a traditional two-story estate.

“We’re here,” he said in a sing-song voice not typical of Hudson Pierce.

My mouth fell open as I stared up at the mansion, clearly lit with bright torchlights like the fountain in the center of the circle drive. I’d tried not to think too much about Hudson’s money, not wanting that to be the focus of my attraction to him, but if there was ever a time to be appreciative of his wealth, this was it. The stone house was breathtaking and extravagant, the kind of thing I’d only seen in movies.

“It’s…wow.”

Hudson laughed. “Come on. You’ll love the inside.”

I opened the car door, immediately overwhelmed with the smell of the ocean air mingled with a variety of early summer blooming flowers. The front doors opened and an older balding man in a light gray suit approached us.

“Good evening, Martin,” Hudson said, slipping his arm around my waist. “This is my girlfriend, Alayna Withers. Martin is our household assistant.”

“A pleasure, Ms. Withers,” Martin said, taking my hand. After he released it, he spoke to Hudson. “Mr. Pierce, I’ll set your bags in the guest suite in the west wing.”

Hudson frowned as he handed Martin the keys to the car. “Is everyone in the west wing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then set us up in the master of the east wing.”

With his hand still at the small of my back, Hudson escorted me through the double doors into the entryway of the house. The entry was bare except for an ornate table set into the curve of the wide staircase.

“Hudson, we’re in the kitchen,” Mirabelle’s voice called from the back of the house.

“I know it’s late,” Hudson said to me, his tone full of apology, “but we should at least say hello. Do you mind?”

I wasn’t tired in the least. This was my time of day. If we hadn’t left town, I’d just be starting my shift at the club. “It’s not late for me.”

For some reason, this made Hudson smile. “Good.”

The sensual promise in his tone made my thighs tense. God, with his endless flirting in the car and the intimacy of our get-to-know you game, I was more than seduced. All I needed was a bed and Hudson alone. And the bed was optional.

Hudson directed me through the back hallway of the entry toward the back of the house, his fingers at my hip not providing nearly enough contact. At the kitchen, he dropped his hand, and I sighed at the loss.

Fortunately, I was able to disguise the sigh as one of awe at the room we’d entered. The kitchen was larger than my apartment. Hell, the entryway had been larger than my apartment. The walls were a light yellow cream, and the counter tops a brown and white flecked granite. All the appliances were stainless steel, a striking comparison to the hardwood floors. Even as someone with no interest in kitchens, I admired its beauty.

We found Adam and Mira leaning over the center island, scraping out what seemed to be the final crumbs in a pie dish.

“I’m pregnant,” Mira said before anyone could ask. “I don’t know what Adam’s excuse is.”

“Was that one of Millie’s pies?” Hudson asked.

Mira nodded.

“Then there’s his excuse right there. No one makes better pies than Millie. I can’t believe you didn’t save any for us.”

“There’s more for tomorrow,” Adam piped up. “We were strictly forbidden to touch them. Millie’s our cook,” he said for my benefit. “She’s amazing.”

“Now that the little one’s been fed,” Mira said, rubbing her belly, “I can give a proper greeting. Laynie!” She wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Thank you,” I said, stunned by her exuberance.

“How was the trip? Did you get anything to eat?”

“Are you offering to fix them something?” Adam put his hand near his mouth and mock-whispered, “Mira doesn’t cook.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, playfully. “I know how to use the microwave, though.”

“No need to prove anything. We stopped in Sayville,” Hudson said.

“The clam bar? Ooh, I’m jealous.” Mira moved to her brother and hugged him, giving him a light peck on the cheek. “I’m still glad you’re here. It’s been ages since you’ve come out.”

Hudson slipped out of her grasp, but smiled. “I am too. Did Dad come?”

Mira took the empty pie plate to the sink and filled it with water before leaving it to soak. “Yeah, he’s already gone to bed for the night. Or he’s hiding from Mom. He’s in the guest house.”

I exchanged glances with Hudson, remembering our earlier conversation about his parents’ loveless marriage.

“Where is Mother? And Chandler?”

“I’m here.” I looked behind me to see Sophia Pierce leaning against the arched doorway. She wore a dressing robe and had a glass of something light brown on ice. “Chandler’s out with the Gardiner girl. I don’t expect him until late.”

“Hello, Mother.” Hudson walked over to her and kissed each of her cheeks.

“You made it.” Sophia glanced at me. “Both of you.”

“Alayna and I are seldom apart,” Hudson lied, pulling me to him.

“Good evening, Mrs. Pierce.” I had been dreading seeing her again, but I made my greeting as warm as possible. Hudson’s arm around me helped. “Thank you for the invite. Your house is lovely.”

She nodded. “I’m sure you want to get settled. I chose a room for you in the west wing.”

Hudson straightened. “I told Martin to set up the master suite in the east wing.”

Electric tingles spread from my lower belly throughout the rest of my body. Hudson and I sharing a master suite…the thought made me squirm. I’d tried not to dwell on how we’d spend our nights in the Hamptons—whether they’d be filled with sex or considered on-duty hours, I didn’t know. But now that the idea had been firmly planted, I couldn’t stop thinking of the carnal possibilities.

Sophia obviously didn’t feel the same way about her son and me sharing a bed. “Hudson, that’s so far away from the rest of us.” Her ire was evident. Like Hudson, I had a feeling she rarely had anyone oppose her. I imagined the shared trait made for some pretty uncomfortable family meals.

And I was about to share several of them before the trip was over. Lucky me.

Hudson knew how to handle his mother. “We need the distance, Mother.” His tone was final.

“Why? We don’t bite.”

“Alayna does,” he grinned wickedly. “And she can be quite loud.”

I turned ten shades of scarlet. Did he actually believe every pretend girlfriend wanted their sex life discussed with the mother? Though, I really could be quite loud.

It was Sophia’s shocked look that Hudson responded to, her expression likely the intended outcome of his scandalous remark. “Oh, Mother, don’t look at me like that. Neither Alayna and I have been virgins since we were sixteen.”

Sophia pursed her lips and walked past us, finishing her beverage before placing it in the sink.

Hudson leaned into whisper in my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine. “Well, what do you know? That virginity fact did come in handy.”

I elbowed him in the ribs, exasperated at being the victim in his poke at his mother.

“Don’t get pissy, Alayna.” He pulled me in front of him and wrapped his arms around me, my backside to his chest. “Trust me—we want a room away from them.”

I sighed into his touch, aware that we were on show, but enjoying the contact nonetheless.

And maybe he enjoyed the contact, too. Or he simply wanted to get away from his mother because he excused us then. “We’ll see you in the morning. It’s late and we’d like to get to bed.”

Or maybe he really did just want to get to bed. God knew I did.

Chapter Sixteen

As we climbed the stairs and turned toward the east wing, nervousness set in. I had learned that Hudson was very intent on separating the fake from the real, and that left me to wonder what would happen between the two of us at night when we were alone. It stood to reason we’d have sex, and he had made sure our room was away from the others. But did he want privacy so we could be intimate or so that his family wouldn’t know we weren’t being intimate?

It was so confusing. He so easily compartmentalized, but for me it was impossible. Everything I knew and felt about him wrapped itself tightly around me at all times. There was no separation of the pretend and the real except for how he reacted to me.

Silently as I worried about the impending situation, I followed him through double doors into a beautiful master suite. The room had two ornate mahogany dressers and a matching four-poster queen bed. Our luggage sat at the foot of the bed, opposite a small sitting area with two armchairs and a mahogany table. A fireplace lined the inner wall and the floors were hardwood covered almost entirely by a plush rug. Though it was traditionally decorated, a flat screen TV centered the wall across from the bed.

As I stood taking the room in, worrying out our situation, Hudson removed his suit jacket, humming as he did, obviously unaware of my anxiety. Next he loosened his tie and flung it over one of the chairs. He turned back to me as he unbuttoned his shirt and paused, noticing I hadn’t moved since entering the room.

Before he could ask, I blurted out what had me fretting. “Am I off-duty or on-duty?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “My family’s not around.” Yes, he’d made sure of that. “Off-duty. Besides, I told you I’d never use sex as part of the sham and I intend to have sex with you now.”

The shiver that passed through me caused every hair on my body to stand on end. “Really?”

“Of course.” He continued to pin me with his stare as he resumed his unbuttoning, moving slower than he had before.

I took in a shallow breath. “We’ve never spent the night together.”

“So we haven’t.” He took a step toward me, his sly grin growing wider. “Are you nervous?”

Yes.
“No.”

His brow rose as if he sensed my lie. “You should be. You’ll be within my reach all night long. I expect you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

My nervousness melted away, replaced by intense arousal. “Hmm. Sounds lovely.”

“Good. Go get ready for bed.” He nodded toward the en suite bathroom door. “Don’t take too long. I’m eager to lick you senseless.”

I didn’t hesitate, grabbing the small bag that held my toiletries as I scurried into the bathroom. After I shut the door behind me, my finger lingered at the handle while I considered locking it. But why would I do that? Any invasion Hudson planned I would welcome.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth I paused again. What should I wear? I had packed a sexy nightie, not sure if I would use it or not. Nighties seemed to suggest a romantic tone. Didn’t they? It didn’t matter, because I’d left my suitcase in the bedroom. Should I go out clothed? Naked?

I decided to strip to my underwear, thankful that I’d worn a pretty black lace bra and matching lace boy shorts under my outfit. I folded my clothes and left them on the counter then stepped quietly out of the bathroom.

Hudson had turned off the overhead lights and switched on the nightstand lamps. His back was to me, and I could see he’d lost his dress shirt and belt and his feet were bare and sexy. God, feet had no right being sexy, but his were.

He turned and my breath caught. Our sexual relationship was still so new. Seeing his naked chest still thrilled me to no end. His hard angles, the way his pants hung low enunciating his hips, his abs of steel—I didn’t think I could ever get tired of looking at him.

Eventually my gaze fluttered to his face where I found his dark eyes, devouring me where I stood. “Nice choice.” He nodded at my attire, and my skin tingled with his approval. “Come here.” His low growl pulled me to him as effectively as if he had me on a rope. I stopped within his reach, but he didn’t touch me. He circled around me instead, standing so close I could feel the body heat radiating off of him, increasing my own already rising body temperature.

He stopped behind me, and I felt him at my neck, his breath grazing my skin. “So beautiful,” he murmured before his lips nipped at my ear. “I need to make you come.” I jumped as his hands skimmed down the length of my arms. “Over and over.” He licked along my lobe. “Do you think you can handle it?”

Words failed me. I answered with an incoherent moan, leaning my body into him, letting his heat envelop me.

He let out a wicked laugh then spun me around to face him, his mouth stopping centimeters above my own. “You don’t know if you can handle it, do you, precious? Let’s find out.”

He took me with his mouth, consuming my breath with his ravaging kiss, urging me to succumb to his control. I didn’t fight it, giving myself over to him in every way he demanded. And with each demand, I lost more of myself to him as he taught my body how to be adored and worshipped. How to be taken and dominated. Like I was made simply for his pleasure, but by the same token, that he was made for mine.

He did lick me until I was senseless, and he did make me come over and over. And in several moments I feared I couldn’t handle it. But he pushed me through each climax—both those that rolled slowly and those that ripped violently through me—with the experience and confidence of a lover that had known me intimately for far longer than he had.

After several orgasms passed between us, he lay heavily on the bed next to me, his shoulder touching mine, either spent for the night or taking a break, I wasn’t sure. My own body was boneless, every muscle lax. Sleep threatened at the edges of my consciousness, but I pushed it away, unwilling to put our evening to bed yet.

I turned my head toward him and caught him watching me, a satisfied smile on his face. Returning his grin, I sighed. “That was…incredible.”

In a flash he was on top of me, his body covering the length of mine. He laced his hands in mine and lifted them over my head. “What was your favorite part?”

All of it. Every minute of it.
But that answer seemed lame and I knew he wanted something more concrete. Several amazing moments came to mind, each making me blush simply from thinking of them—like when he’d crawled up my body and straddled my neck, silently ordering me to take his cock in my mouth. That had been pretty hot.

And when he’d commanded me to play with myself while he sucked and tugged at my breast. Again, pretty hot. Also, a bit awkward. But only until I warmed up to it.

Unable to voice the memories, I turned the table on him. “What was
your
favorite part?”

He trailed his nose along my jaw. “The way you respond to anything…everything…I do to you.” He licked along my lower lip and I opened to kiss him, but he pulled out of reach. “Your turn.”

His mood was unusually playful and inspired me to join him. “I’ll never tell.” I grinned.

“Tell me.” He moved my hands together and pinned them with one of his. His other hand he lowered to rest lightly at my hip.

My exposed ribcage made me feel vulnerable. He could tickle me mercilessly. I tempted him anyway. “Make me.”

“I can’t make you do anything.” His hand flickered across my sensitive side and I flinched.

“I think you could.” I braced myself for his assault. “I hear you’re quite good at making women do things.”

And suddenly I wasn’t playing anymore, but hinting at deeper meanings. I hadn’t meant to go there, but his confession of manipulating women for sport always hung right below the surface of our time together. Lying nude beneath him now, completely stripped of senses from multiple orgasms, it bubbled to the top and escaped my lips.

His eye twitched, the only indication he gave that my true implication affected him. “I
am
good at making women do things.”

I couldn’t help myself. I nudged the conversation on. “But not me.”

“No.” His voice lowered, the playfulness gone. “Not you.”

“Am I not…” I searched for the question I wanted to ask, needing the answer even though I couldn’t yet form the words. “…intriguing…enough to play that game with?”

My hands still pinned above me, he propped himself up with his other arm so he could glare down at me. “God, Alayna, do you want me to do that to you? Possess you? I would crush you. I would destroy you.” His tone was dark, but also honestly inquisitive. “Is that what you want?”

My eyes filled. I hated the truth of my answer. “No, but a little bit yes too. That’s how my stupid brain works. If you don’t do with me what you normally do with other girls, there must be something wrong with me.”

He laughed as he lowered himself to the bed beside me. “Oh, it’s all you, huh? It’s not that there’s something wrong with me? How self-centered of you.”

Free to move, I rolled to my side toward him. “I’m very self-centered. I want to be special. I’m afraid that I’m not.”

“You are.” His words were emphatic. “Even more than you could imagine you are.” He turned his body so he could face me. “Because I don’t want to destroy you more than I need to possess you. That’s progress for me.”

We were both vulnerable now. Two damaged souls spilling our brokenness in a private therapy session. Was this what he had wanted between us? Sharing like this, without judgment, without shame? It was…nice.

I stopped worrying about being exposed and spoke from the gut. “Then I’ll try not to fixate on what it means that I’m different for you. That will be progress for me.”

He nodded, the weight of my words sinking in. “Do you know why you do it?”

“Why I become obsessive about guys?”

“Yeah.”

“My counselors have said it’s probably about not feeling loved as a child. Aggravated by the early death of my parents. So I’m constantly seeking affection and doubting it when I receive it because I don’t know what it really feels like.”

“How did you get over that?”

It wasn’t at all what I thought he’d ask, and I sensed he was asking as much for himself as he was about me. I’d gotten this far into the depths of candidness, might as well dive right in. “I haven’t. It’s a constant battle. Lots of self-affirmation. Lots of silly little tricks, like wearing elastic bands to remind me.”

He nodded, understanding about my elastic band settling in. “You still fall into old habits.”

“Yes.”

“With me?”

“You know the answer to that.” My voice came out a whisper. I wanted to look away, but our eyes were locked and in the softness of his gaze I found the courage to tell more. “I didn’t believe you were away on business. I thought you didn’t want to see me. That’s why I came by your building.”

His face fell, as though my honesty crushed him. He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were dark and intense. He reached his hand out to cup my nape, insuring that my face was fixed on his. “Alayna, I will never lie to you.” His voice was gruff. “Not when we’re off-duty. I will always tell you the truth. I swear it.”

His grip loosened, and his thumb stroked across my bare cheek. “Do you understand?”

I nodded and covered his hand with mine. “Hudson,
this
,” I choked, my throat tight with emotion. “
This
was my favorite part.”

For a split second I worried I’d scared him with my intensity, that he’d pull away. But he didn’t. Instead he put his hand on my ass and pulled me closer. He stroked down my thigh, urging it forward to rest around his waist. Then he slid inside me, my pussy already wet from earlier orgasms. He was slow and steady with his pace, less rough than he often tended to be, his usual sex talk absent. But, because of the things we’d shared, his measured thrusts felt raw, more intent on connecting than on gratifying.

Climax came quickly for both of us, mine crashing through me in waves that tightened my belly and curled my toes and caused fireworks to cross my vision, his spurting hot and prolonged as he groaned my name. His eyes never left mine, though they narrowed as he came, and it deepened the intimacy. I knew he’d told the truth, I trusted him. In his words, in his actions, I felt fixed. I’d fallen into something that had nothing to do with love. Into healing.

And it was love too. If I could stand to admit it to myself, love was exactly what it was.