Yeah, because "complimentary companion" has "sexy" written all over it. And again my mind instead thinks of the hard-bodied, cocky Hudson. Hudson with the tattoos and the obnoxious bad-boy chip on his shoulder; Hudson with the dangerous glint in his eye and the fucking missile hanging between his legs. I'm pretty sure it would give Erika an aneurism if I announced that he was going to be my new "companion" of any kind.
I'm still mulling all of this over in my head when Chelsea comes over later with takeout sushi.
"So what do you think, Hudson?"
I grumble into my yellowtail maki. I don't know if I'm pissy because she's decided to include him in what was going to be a sister get-together, or that she's somehow getting along with him swimmingly. Or maybe I'm just generally feeling on edge because of the Hudson situation as a whole.
"Your ex sounds like a dick, Chelsea," He's saying as he takes a bite of salmon. He sees me staring at him and grins as he makes an extra big show of sensually slurping the piece of fish between his lips while Chelsea is looking down at her own food. I make a face at him, which only gets him grinning more and more my own pulse beating faster.
"Aw, thanks Hudson!" I'm still making my stink face at him when Chelsea looks up sees me, before she turns and nods her head at Hudson; "You know, you can always come hang with me if my sisters being a bitch, Hudson."
He chuckles right along with her as I stuff seaweed salad into my mouth and look away. It's not flirty between them - she's acting like more of a kid sister and him more like a conspiratorial brother than anything like that - but it's still getting under my skin. It's as if their closeness brings out some sort of bizarre jealousy in me, which is stupid because I don't want or need to be close to Hudson.
Keep saying that to yourself and maybe you'll start to believe it.
I'm interrupted from battling my inner dialogue by Chelsea poking me in the arm with a chopstick; "We should ask his opinion on your ex, Ray."
I blush as Hudson arches an eyebrow at me, a grin teasing his perfect lips; "Ex-boyfriend, huh?" Yeah, I definitely haven't mentioned Chet to Hudson.
"Let's … not?" I'm staring daggers at my sister, but she's either not getting the hint or just ignoring them anyways.
"Oh com'on! I bet Hudson has a ton to say about you and Chet."
I groan inside as Hudson grins wickedly at me; "Chet?" His cocky, smug mouth cracks even even wider as winks at me; "Oh, yeah, I think I've got loads to say about ‘Chet'."
"See?" Chelsea gives me a sassy look as she reaches past me for the ginger.
"I'm sure you do." I say icily.
*****
"So, Chet, huh?"
We're cleaning up the kitchen after Chelsea leaves; Hudson rinsing out wine glasses and me drying them. It's weirdly domestic, and probably the last thing I could ever imagine spending my Wednesday night doing with billionaire playboy Hudson Banks.
"Chet is none of your business, actually," I say, almost unable to hide my smirk. Is he jealous?
"I'm just curious that's all," Hudson passes me a clean, dripping wet coffee cup.
"Oh what, for security purposes?" I say sarcastically as I reach for the mug.
"No I'm just curious for me actually." I freeze with my hand on the lip of the coffee cup he's holding in his hand, suddenly very curious where he's going to go with this.
Hudson grins, as if seeing right through the casual face I'm doing my best to maintain and seeing the eagerness within; "I'm honestly just wondering who could put up with you long enough to date, that's all."
I roll my eyes, suddenly angry with myself for being such a weirdo about all of this; "Oh shut up."
Hudson laughs; "Oh I'm just kidding Red, jeez lighten up." He casually reaches over and wraps his arm around my waist, and I freeze.
"Stop."
"What?"
I can feel the strength in his arms, and the heat in his fingers as they circle around my waist, drawing me closer to his body and I can feel the shiver run up my spine.
"Just- don't touch me like that." I'm saying no because I need him to, not because I want him to. In fact, I desperately want him to keep touching me.
Hudson frowns; "Jesus, Reagan, like what?" He drops his arm and steps back from me, and I'm instantly missing the heat of his body and the heat my body feels when he's that close to me; "Ok, fine."
I swallow heavily; "Fine." I know my cheeks are bright red, and the heated, needy desire pouring through my body and dampening my panties scream that I want anything but him to stop touching me, but I force myself to turn away from him.
I gasp when he reaches out and grabs my arm, and my heart leaps into my throat as I feel him spin me around and press me up against the refrigerator. I'm flush against his body, feeling every ripple of his muscles, every inch of his skin on mine, and I let out the tiniest of moans in spite of myself. I can feel his hardness pressing hotly against me as his hands push my arms back against the cool metal of the fridge, and he leans down until I can feel his breath teasing across my lips.
"Just so you know, I'm betting I could have you right here, right now, Princess. I'd only have to ask."
"Oh is that a fact, huh?" I give him my most defiant, carefree look, but I know by the way he grins that he can see right through that. And I know by the way my face is flushed and the way I know he can feel the heat between my legs on his thigh that neither of us are fooled by my little act.
"Yeah, that's a fact." He growls, leaning closer still until his lips are barely millimeters away from mine.
"Then why don't you then." My voice is breathy, and I hear the words muted as if I'm speaking underwater. I'm willing him to kiss me; willing him to lean down press that mouth to mine and take me right here in the kitchen; right up against the refrigerator.
Please, please, please I beg inside my head, biting my lip and staring deep into his deep blue eyes and wanting nothing more than to feel him slide inside of me. I'm so wet and I can feel my heart just racing as we stare at each other. But I need him to make the move first. I'm running for a seat on the State Senate for crying out loud, I can't be throwing myself at my bodyguard - or my campaign financier, or both, or whatever the hell Hudson is. I just can't, and for that singular reason, every fiber of my being and every thudding beat of my pulse in my veins wants him to tear my panties off and fuck me right here.
But he doesn't, and the moment passes, and we both know it. Hudson moves away from me suddenly, his own chest rising quickly with his breath as he stares at me hungrily with a look I can't quite read; "Like you said, Reagan; it's nothing."
P A S T
"Are you drinking?" My older sister's eyes are narrowed, red-rimmed as they are as she leans down to sniff the cup of soda she's snatched out of my hands.
"N-no." I mumble out, fairly confident that there's no way she's going to smell the white wine I've dosed my diet-cola with. Yeah, I'm drinking white wine with coke; I was a very special breed of eighteen year old rebel.
Quinn swears at me, even though I know damn well she's had a few herself; "It's a wake, Reagan, not an open bar," She hisses; always the one in charge, especially now.
"It's not a wake, it's a memorial vigil," I say it tensely through gritted teeth.
Quinn looks at me sadly, shaking her head; "Ray, he's d-"
"He's missing, Quinn, he's not dead." Well, missing for three months, last seen near the Syrian border; presumed dead.
My sister tenses her jaw and exhales through her teeth, either because she's thinking it too, or more likely because she's just not about to have this argument again with me, here of all places. "In any case, you're not supposed to be drinking."
"So?" I sneer at her; "I'm mourning." It's really only half true; maybe even less actually. Of course I'm upset about my Father's death, but the anger is still so present that it's clouding my ability to really grasp that he's gone. I'm angry that it's felt like he's been gone for years anyways; always off doing something in some random part in the world that he won't tell us about and that I don't want to know about anyways. I remember asking him once when I was much younger if what the kids at school had said were true; "Do you sell guns, Daddy?"
"It's complicated, honey."
Right, "complicated". It's bullshit like that, mixed with his complete absence from our lives - certainly after Mom died, but almost completely in the last three years - that have me spiking soda with wine like some sort of total amateur. I storm away from my sister, just in time to see the staff ushering Hudson into the room full of mourners along with the two other guys; Bryce and Logan. I barely know them - honestly, I hardly know much about Hudson really - but in that moment of them walking into my Dad's funeral, I kind of hate them. I hate them because they were closer to my father than any of us ever were; the military sons he always wanted and never got. And in that moment, there at his funeral, their presence makes me feel like they have more of a right to be there then I do.