The Fixed Trilogy(Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You)(168)

He didn’t tease or go slow like he often did when he ate me out, but sucked and licked at my clit with urgent strokes of his tongue. I came instantly and still he continued. It was too much—too intense for my heightened senses and my hips bucked away.

“Once more,” Hudson said before renewing his attack.

“No!” I writhed but his hands held firm to my ankles. “I can’t take it.”

“Once more.” He was insistent, not to be swayed, but he did redirect his approach, moving away from the singing ball of nerves and plunging his tongue into my hole instead.

My hands flew to his head, clutching fistfuls of hair as he worked me toward yet another high, his tongue licking up my slit back to my clit then down to plunge in again at my core.

Somewhere in the part of my brain that could still formulate thought, I knew what he was doing—he was thanking me, showing me how happy I’d made him by deciding to live with him. His own climax had come quickly, but he could get hard again. I knew this from experience. He probably already was hard again as it turned him on to no end to go down on me. Yet, instead of burying himself inside me, he was giving me all the pleasure. It was a message, and I got it loud and clear.

His endeavor slowed, but his ardor remained. The next orgasm came more reluctantly and he pulled it out of me with sweet, drawn-out dedication until I went over the edge, shivering as the warmth spread outward to my limbs, curling my toes.

Hudson stayed between my legs until I’d calmed, licking me and lavishing me with soft praise while my heart rate returned to normal.

Then he stood and carried me to the couch, laying me down.

He gazed at me, his eyes still half-closed with desire as he stripped naked. I was right—he was hard again, hard and throbbing. He lay beside me, wrapping his arms around me. Smoothing my hair with sensuous strokes, he spoke low at my ear. “I know it’s scary and our situation hasn’t been ideal, but you are everything good for me. Nothing in this world is important to me beyond you. I can be the same for you. I know it. And I’m so grateful you’ve given me the chance to prove it.”

I shifted to face him. “You have nothing to prove. You’re already everything good for me, too.”

“Shh.” He kissed my forehead. “Not yet. I haven’t been able to give you everything you need yet.”

My mind scrambled to figure out what he possibly thought I needed that he hadn’t given me. The three words. That was the only thing I could settle on. But I knew them even if he didn’t say them. I knew them with every fiber of my being.

“It’s okay, Hudson. It’s—”

He cut me off. “It’s not. But I need you to know that I’m trying and I’m not going to stop trying until I get there. Do you hear me? Don’t give up on me.” He was vehement, his expression frantic.

“I’m not giving up on you.” I reached my palm up to caress his face and he leaned into my touch. “Why would I do that? I love you, Hudson. So much.”

His eyes closed tight, almost as if my statement were painful to him. “I don’t deserve your love. I don’t think I ever will.”

“You deserve more than I can ever give you.”

“We have a difference of opinion on that. We’ll have to agree to disagree. Again.” He pushed at my shoulder. “Turn,” he ordered.

I shifted to face the back of the couch and immediately felt Hudson’s thick erection pressing behind me. Lifting my leg up and back around him, he slid into me again. “This time,” he whispered between kisses at my neck, “we’re going to take it slow.”





Chapter Fifteen



As I imagined would be the case, Hudson was eager for my moving in to commence immediately. Correction—immediately after another round of lovemaking. Bursting with an excitement I’d never seen from him before, he made arrangements with “his people,” and by the end of Saturday, the relatively few things I owned had been boxed and brought over to The Bowery. It happened so fast that the anxiety of it didn’t even have time to overwhelm me, and whenever I felt it creeping up, I simply promised to deal with it at my Addicts Anonymous session on Monday.

It was easy to unpack. Almost all my belongings fit in the extra closet in the bedroom—our bedroom. Only one item, a hope chest that had belonged to my mother, found its way to the extra room. I was completely settled by Sunday evening, and the sore muscles I boasted were not from carrying boxes but from other physical activity.

Monday came too soon, yet wasn’t dreadful since I adored our wake-up routine. Our cell alarms going off in tandem, a quickie in the shower, getting ready side by side at the twin sinks, sharing a fast bite at the kitchen table—all of it rocked. The still thrilling newness of it combined with the security of knowing the situation wasn’t temporary sent me to the club with a spring in my step, a rarity for me since I had never been anything near a morning person.