“Mon amour. Mon précieux,” he said against my ear. “Mon chéri. Mon bien-aimé.”
He was speaking French. He said he would later, with my legs wrapped around him. So I threw my lower limbs around his hips, tilting into him.
Though the words were unnecessary, he muttered them over and over as we made love again. Between the kisses he placed on my neck and on my mouth, as he rolled in and out of me in rhythm with the beautiful poetry on his tongue. “Je suis avec vous. Always. I’m with you, mon précieux.”
Chapter Fourteen
The sun was still low and streaming through a gap in the curtains when Hudson released a hand from my breast to look at his watch. “I know it’s Saturday,” he said, kissing along my shoulder, “and it’s early, but I have some business I have to take care of before it gets any later. Then I’ll ravage you nonstop the rest of the weekend.”
“All right. If you must.” I was still recovering from two good-morning orgasms, barely able to form sentences, let alone do anything that required thought. But I did have an important task to attend to myself. One that I’d been avoiding. “I have a few things to do as well so it works out. Lucky for you.”
“Lucky for me, indeed.”
Hudson hit the shower first, while I got in a run on the treadmill. When I’d finished my workout, Hudson had withdrawn into the library. I took a shower of my own then sat on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around me, phone in hand and contemplating the call I needed to make. It took four attempts of hitting Dial quickly followed by End Call before I got brave enough to let the call go through. Then I heard the ring on the other end of the line, and, knowing my number would be recognized, I couldn’t hang up. He probably wouldn’t answer anyway, so why was I being such a chicken shit?
It seemed like forever but finally my brother answered. “Oh my god, Laynie, are you okay?”
His concern irritated me. Either it wasn’t genuine or it was too little too late. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I hadn’t been answering his calls, but that shouldn’t have been cause for alarm.
“Because you haven’t been at the club all week.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been there every day.”
He sounded exasperated. “I called and asked for you every night this week and you were never there. At first I thought you’d told the staff you weren’t taking my calls but then I gave a different name and called from a different phone.”
“Jesus, Brian, I didn’t realize that stalking was genetic.”
“Ha ha.” His tone was not amused. He’d never liked it when I joked about my disorder. Which was exactly why I did it.
“I wasn’t at the club because I’m not working at night anymore, you moron.” As if it was any of his business. Yet, something in me couldn’t help but tell him. To brag, to seek for approval. “I got a promotion. I’m working marketing and promotional planning. Day hours. Just like you wanted.”
“Oh. Wow. Congratulations, Laynie. I’m proud of you.”
For half a second I felt warm and fuzzy. Then I remembered what a shit he’d been to me, how he’d cut me off financially, how he’d feared for my relationship with Hudson because of my obsessive history. Yeah, warm and fuzzy wasn’t there to stay. “Whatever, Brian. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I mean it.”
“Only because you’re happy that I’m now following the plan you’d laid out for me.” Brian had thought that night shifts and the club environment were not appropriate for someone with my condition, despite the fact that working at the club was what had helped me chill out in the first place. If he’d had his way, I’d be doing marketing for a Fortune 500 company during daylight hours, making a shit ton of money doing respectable work. But had I gone that route, I’d have been so bored and stifled I was sure I’d have shot myself within the first week of employment.
“That’s not true.” He almost sounded remorseful.
I almost felt bad.
“Wait, did you get this promotion because of Hudson Pierce?”
So much for feeling bad. “No. I did not. And fuck you very much for asking.”
“What do you expect me to assume, Laynie? You want me to change my entire experience with you because you say things are different?”
“I don’t know what I expect, Brian.” As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t really blame him for being spiteful. I’d been a burden, and, to his credit, he’d been there when I needed him most. Financially, if not emotionally. Truthfully, he was probably as broken as I was.