I'm momentarily thrown off by suddenly realizing what he's wearing. He's not in a tux this time, and is instead curiously in running shorts and a black undershirt, despite the fact that it's freezing outside. I stare at him as he pokes his nose into my refrigerator, totally forgetting my train of thought as my eyes rove over the sleeves of tattoos running up his muscled and defined arms and across his chest and collarbone. I’ve seen them partially before I guess, but it’s only now seeing them in the daylight that I realize how beautiful they are. I recognize one image as the same Marine corp emblem that my father had inked onto his arm as well, but on Hudson the design is set into a twisting and complex background of other images and inked names.
I’m once again drawn to his shorts and I wrinkle my brow; “Wait, what are you wearing?”
He frowns; “What do you wear to the gym?”
“We're not at the gym, though.”
He grins; “Yeah, but we will be after we eat.”
“Excuse me?”
He sighs heavily and rolls his eyes as he pulls away from the fridge with a carton of Almond milk in his hands. My jaw drops as I watch him open it before he brings it to his lips and takes a swig.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh relax, cupcake, I don't have cooties,” He makes a face and stares at the carton in his hand before turning to me and shaking his head; “Almond milk? What the hell kind of-”
“What, I'm lactose intolerant,” I grumble, brusquely pushing past him and trying to shove the fact that his arm just brushed against my side out of my head. I push the button on the espresso machine and turn back to him.
Hudson snorts; “Of course you are.”
“Remind me why you're here again?” I say, feeling the temper rising in my voice. I'm taking the damn campaign money, and I'm even taking it knowing that I'm going to have to deal with Hudson as a direct consequence of that. But what I am not signing up for is him barging into my home and seeing me in my underwear at a 6:30 in the morning.
“I told you last night, to protect our investment.” He swigs from the carton of almond milk again before I rip it out of his hands and throw it away. Hudson grins at me, as if laughing at my admittedly childish behavior.
“But why you,” I say, venom dripping from my words.
“You mean, besides having been a soldier?”
“How could I forget” I snap. Actually, I don't know why I say that. I mean I vaguely know he served just from hearing my father mention it once or twice, but it’s not like I’ve ever heard Hudson say anything about it. For a moment, my eyes are drawn back to the marine emblem on his bicep, and as my gaze looks higher, for the first time I notice a shiny looking scar the size of a quarter on his upper shoulder.
“Thanks, yeah I've been hitting the gym a lot recently.”
I shake my head and frown at him; “What?”
Hudson is smirking at me, and he leans forward towards me, one arm reaching past my side to hold himself up against the countertop. He's suddenly very close to me - closer than I want him to be - and in spite of every part of me trying to stop it, I'm suddenly remembering the last time he had me pressed against something.
“It's just that I saw you checking out my arms,” He shrugs, looking so fucking arrogant and so fucking hot at the same time that it's make the gears in my head grind against each other.
Even though I can feel the heat from his body he's so close to me, and my gut instinct wants to grab him and pull him crushing against my body, instead, I narrow my eyes at him; “Do shit lines like that ever work?”
The smug look on his face drops for just a second; just long enough for me to know I've scored a hit against great unflappable, unshakable Hudson Banks.
His smirk is back in a second though, and he's grinning as he pulls back from me and turns back to the fridge; “Oh you have no idea, Red.”
I roll my eyes; “There's no reason for you to be here, you know.” It's weird, wanting him to get the hell out of here but at the same time wanting him to stay so badly it hurts.
“This isn't some sort of spy movie you know,” I snap; “There isn't a terrorist outside about to crash through the window and murder or kidnap a State Senate candidate. The world is not all a terrible, dangerous place, Hudson.”
He turns to me, slowly munching on what may or may not be Chinese food from a week ago; “Do you really think of the world like that?” He shakes his head; “That's adorable.”
“Damnit, Huds-”
“The world is full of bad people, Reagan.” He says quietly. For the first time since he's let himself into my apartment - or my life, for that matter - he doesn't have that obnoxiously smug grin on his face and it's like I'm actually seeing the real him, with clarity and without armor, for the first time.