I sputter and push away from him; “Chet!” I can feel my pulse racing, roaring in my ears like an engine as the adrenaline spikes; “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He’s still holding my arm, and he chuckles; “Oh, c’mon babe, don’t tell me you haven’t missed a little of the ole’ Chet magic.” I open my mouth to say something but he just keeps going; “You remember, Reagan, just like the old times huh?” He’s pressing me back against the wall behind me, and I’m feeling every inch of my skin crawl as my throat freezes up. He leans close, running his hand up the front of my dress and making me cringe in revulsion; “You look so tense, bab-”
In the blink of an eye, his arm is suddenly getting wrenched away from me and behind his back. There’s a snapping sound, and he’s screaming. Hudson - Hudson - snarls like fucking wild animal as he brings his fist crashing down across Chet’s face, sending blood splattering from his nose as he cries out and drops to his knees on the ground. He’s holding his face and staring up at the utterly ferocious looking Hudson, and he’s screeching as Hudson’s fist crashes into his face again.
And then I’m yelling - screaming even - and suddenly there’s the sounds of running footsteps as security comes thundering around the corner. Hudson snarls as two of them grab his arms; “Not me, you fucking idiots,” He spits out, nodding towards the sniveling Congressmen on the ground cradling his limp arm as the blood pours down his face. I can barely nod as they look at me for verification, feeling as though I’m moving in slow motion as Hudson shakes them free and jerks his head around to stare at me.
“Are you ok?”
“I- I-” I’m stammering, my mouth opening and closing without words.
“Reagan.”
Hudson’s voice is sharp, and I jerk my head to stare at him; “What?”
“Are you hurt.”
I shake my head quietly; “No.”
“Then lets go, now.”
It’s not until we’re outside that the shock really hits me, and suddenly I find myself angry, and I’m angry at Hudson for some reason. I’m angry that I needed rescuing; that somehow I need him at all. We’re right by his car when I shake my hand out of his and stop suddenly in my tracks. Hudson turns to me and I suddenly snap; “I don’t need rescuing you know.”
He frowns; “Could’ve fooled me, Princess.”
I narrow my eyes at him; “I mean in general, I don’t need you saving me or anything. I mean I’m the normal one here, Hudson; you’re the one with all the baggage that needs rescuing.”
He looks at me coolly as he steps closer to me; “Is that a fact? You think I need rescuing?”
I purse my lips and frown, crossing my arms over my chest; “Mhmm.” And then he’s right in front of me, and I can feel my own body betray me at his proximity; my pulse starting to race and my breath coming quicker.
“You know,” he growls, smirking that smug smile as he leans so close to my face that our lips are almost touching; “We’d probably get along better if you’d just stop pretending you don’t want me.”
“You’re fucking delusional, I don’t want you at all,” I sneer at him, knowing how totally unconvincing that sounds and feeling more like I’m trying to convince myself than him.
“Oh, so it’s Chet you want in there? Is that it?”
“Shut up, you don’t know what I want, Hudson.” His eyes flash at me, and he’s so close to me that I could just breath and kiss him.
“Yes, I do.” He growls lowly, his eyes flashing at me, and I gasp as he takes my hand and places it against the front of his pants. He’s rock hard inside, and I can feel my own body throb with desire as I feel how aroused he is for me. And I know he’s right, too; I know he sees right through my bullshit and little bratty outburst and sees exactly what I want.
The side door to the museum slams open and Donald comes huffing out, looking furious and red in the face as he starts to scream something at Hudson.
“Get in the fucking car, Archer.” He whispers into my ear, sending a shiver right through me and making me tingle somewhere deep inside.
“Fine” I spit out, as if I’m letting him take me away, even though its the only thing in the world I want in that moment.
21
Hudson
P A S T
I duck and weave, dancing back to try and avoid Logan's hook, but I of course catch it in the side anyways. I can feel the sweat stinging my eyes, and my shoulder’s throbbing in that way that I know I should give it a rest, but I know I won’t. I also know that Logan's going to beat me like he does every time we box like this, but that doesn’t stop me from putting up a fight anyways. That’s pretty much the first thing he taught after showing me how to lace up the gloves; always put up a fight.