Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)(221)

I can feel her tightening around me, her muscles clutching at me and her mouth hanging open as I kiss her and then slide my lips to ear.

“Come for me, Reagan. Fucking come for me right now.”

I muffle her screams with my mouth this time as she goes to pieces around me, and it’s more than I can take. I see stars as I roar my release into her kiss and explode inside of her.

When we’ve caught our escaping breaths, racing hearts and move to the bed, I’m curled up next to her. And for the first time in maybe ever, I’m not counting down the seconds until I can leave.

She yawns into my chest as she snuggles against me, worming her way deeper into my arms. “We shouldn’t fall asleep like this” she says sleepily.

I nod, feeling my own eyelids weighing heavily down. “Definitely not.”

I can feel her lips smiling against my skin. “But Hudson, would it really be so bad if…”

I’m waiting for a full five seconds for her to finish her sentence until I grin as I hear the soft rhythmic breathing of her sleep. Before I can even convince myself to stop, I’m holding her tightly against my body as I let sleep take me under, and for the first time since longer than I can honestly remember, I don’t dream at all.

And it’s wonderful.





Chapter Eighteen





Reagan




P A S T



I quietly hang up the phone and stare at the wall of my apartment for a second before I let the air out in a slow stream. The empty, sort of blank feeling inside is weird, especially since I know I should be feeling something much more right now. When your friend calls to tell you that your boyfriend’s been cheating on you, there’s a certain way you’re supposed to feel and react.

Except, I just don’t.

And a lot of that might be because there wasn’t exactly a whole lot there anyways with Chet. He was more like a companion, and kind of an annoying one at that, than any sort of romantic role.

Movies are full of dramatic encounters and fiery kisses and unbridled passion, and I know that’s all Hollywood bullshit, but I also know that I’ve seen that sort of passion. I’ve felt it, if only once and if only for one brief kiss, but that one kiss with him is better and more memorable than anything I’ve known since.

So, no, I’m not mad that Chet’s apparently been fucking one of his interns, I’m just sort of sad, I guess.

I open my phone, and almost like second nature, I’m scrolling down through my contacts until I see Hudson’s number there on my screen.

It’s right where it’s been for over a year now, sitting there in front of my face with my thumb hanging half an inch above it but never actually touching it and actually going through with calling him. I don’t even know what the hell I’d say to him at this point, even though for a while I was so mad I even wrote down all the poisonous vitriol I wanted to hurl at him. But now- now it just seems like a faded and sad dream.

Wow, look at me. I’ve just been cheated on and dumped by my boyfriend, but all I can think about is the man who broke my heart a full year ago. I take a deep breath and look at the number once more, and I know it’s time.

I know it’s time to let him go.

I slide my thumb across his number, and before I can stop myself, I’m hitting the little red “x” there to delete the contact.

And just like that, he’s gone.



P R E S E N T



There’s the usual fog that accompanies waking up when I first open my eyes, and as sunlight glows around the drawn curtains, I find myself lazily stretching as I yawn and roll over - right into Hudson.

Suddenly I’m wide awake and panicking, and I jump out of bed and back away from it, as if being near him somehow makes it more real and more than I can handle right now.

Holy shit, I slept with Hudson.

My hand flies to my mouth as my eyes go wide, suddenly thinking of all the repercussions that could come of this. My campaign, the funding from Archer Holdings and God, the media if they got ahold of this?

I realize I’m pacing and chewing at my cuticles again, and I force myself to stop as I turn and look at him, still sleeping heavily in bed.

The covers are pulled most of the way down on his torso as he lies on his stomach. My eyes trace over the inked and scarred skin there as his back is rising and falling slowly with his breathing. A flush creeps onto my face as I think about last night with him, and how freaking incredible he felt in that first delicious moment of penetration.

There’s a feeling of stinging guilt that I’m standing here regretting last night while I stare at the man that’s made me happier in one night than I’ve felt in a long time. But then the panic hits me again.

Fuck, I mean what if somebody heard us? My face gets hot as I try and think how loud I might have gotten the previous night. Or what if someone puts two-and-two together when they see that Hudson's bedroom door is wide open and his bed still made?