I feel a shiver as I strip off my clothes in the bathroom, still feeling the lingering graces of his touch on my body as I turn on the water. I still have no idea what I'm going to say to him, but I'm bracing myself to do it anyways. It’s the only realistic thing to do at this point.
The shower spray is bliss. Hot, sudsy, and steamy to the point where I can just let go a little bit and let it all just take me away. So much so, in fact, that I don’t even hear the door to the bathroom open until it shuts, at which point I practically jump out of my skin. My scream freezes in my throat as he yanks the shower curtain back and smirks at me.
“Hudson!” I gasp, my hands clutching at my chest. “What the fuck”"
He grins wickedly and shushes me.
“Are you fucking insane?!” I husk at him, still meekly covering myself with my hands as if he hasn’t seen me naked before. As if he hadn’t just had his mouth on my pussy barely hours before. “Donald and Erika are in the conference room right down the hall, get out of here!” I hiss at him through clenched teeth.
He smirks at me. “Well I guess that means you'd better keep quiet then.”
“Hud-”
He pulls off his towel, and he’s rock hard, his erection throbbing as he grins at me and steps into the shower with me.
“Hudson, I-” I can feel my resolve cracking. Already forgetting all those poetic words I’d been putting together in my head to tell him why we couldn’t continue this exact behavior anymore. He steps close to me, so close I can feel my own body betraying me. Warming, and wanting him nearer still.
“We can’t- we can’t do this-”
“Reagan,” His voice is low and growling. “I’m going to kiss you on the count of five. And if you don’t want me to do that, you’re going to have to tell me, because after that, you’re going to have to stop me.”
Goddamnit, why won’t he listen to me? I can’t do this, as much as every fiber of my being wants to. He steps closer to me, so close that I can practically feel his skin on mine, though he’s still not touching me. The water trickles over his chiseled and inked chest, over the scars and the muscles there.
“Hudson-”
“One.”
“Dammit, get out of the shower!” I whisper noncommittally, barely believing the words myself.
“Two.”
His hand reaches up and he trails his fingertips across the arm I’ve still got covering my breasts, making me shiver despite the steam from the shower. But we can not fucking do this! It could ruin the whole campaign and everything that I’ve worked so hard for.
“Three.”
I’m wet. So fucking wet and ready for him that it’s making my knees feel weak. But we can’t-
“Four.”
“Hudson, shut up.”
My resolve crumbles completely and I slide my hands into his hair and kiss him fiercely, as if I’d fly away without my lips on his another second.
He growls as his strong arms wrap tightly around me, his hands sliding over my skin and grabbing me as he pulls me tight against his skin. I moan into his mouth, feeling his cock throb hotly pressed between us. His hand slides around over my hip and down between my legs to stroke my clit, and I pull away from his kiss and gasp as I feel him slip his fingers inside of me. I rock against him, whimpering his name as the water cascades over our skin. Over his scars and ink and over everything that’s ever separated us.
I drop my hands to his cock, shuttling my hand up and down his enormous hardness as he curls his fingers inside of me, stroking against that sweet spot. I’m so close as I feel him growl into my neck, and it’s taking everything I have not to cry out loud and scream his name as he coaxes me closer and closer to that sweet edge.
He bites my earlobe between his teeth. “Come for me, Reagan. Come for me right now.”
When I do scream this time, I muffle it into his shoulder. My whole body shudders against him as my orgasm shatters through me, and I clutch him to me tightly, as if he might float away.
Chapter Seventeen
Hudson
P A S T
It’s the pretending to care that gets old after a while.
It’s exhausting really, pretending I’m interested in what they’re saying, or their opinions on the menu, or in them as people when really, I just don’t care. I’m going out with girls because I know I should, and I know it’s something I need to do to get my mind off of her, but it never helps. If anything, it just makes it worse.
A year later, and here I am out with some other redhead who only even vaguely looks like her, who’s chattering at me across the dinner table about - fuck, actually I have no idea.