Even with the bags, he looked delicious. I’d wondered many times if I’d ever get bored of his devastatingly good looks. If so, it wasn’t today. His simple presence affected me—aroused me, flustered me. Pissed me off. The combination of attraction, frustration and desperation put me in an odd mood—a cross between flirty and feisty with a whole lot of bitter on top.
“What am I doing here in your office? You dragged me in here, remember.” I walked away from him, dragging my hand along the top of the couch.
“Don’t be cute.” Though I sensed a smile behind his straight-man routine. “I meant in the building.”
I peered at him over my shoulder. “Maybe I came to see you. I tend to stalk when I feel dismissed by a man.” It could happen. It had happened before. With him, even.
Hudson heaved a sigh. “You didn’t come to see me. You arrived on this floor over half an hour ago and are just now coming by my office.”
I spun toward him. “How the fuck do you know everything I do? Jordan? Your security cameras?” I knew it was my bodyguards, but I wanted his confirmation. And saying it out loud, I realized how much the situation ticked me off—if he was watching my every move, I didn’t feel so bad digging into his life. As far as shitty behavior went, the two were on par in my book.
“I’m not going to feel guilty for the lengths I go to in order to protect what’s mine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his already broad shoulders expanding.
And I didn’t miss his words. I might have licked my lips.
“Alayna?”
I tore my eyes away from him, breaking the hypnotic trance he had me in. “Yours, huh? Don’t make me laugh.” I seemed to be back at the angry phase of grief. It was an interesting and a thrilling change to the constant pain I’d been experiencing.
My rage spurred Hudson’s. “Jesus, how many times do I have to go through this with you?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged dramatically. “Maybe a couple hundred more times. Because I’m obviously not getting it.”
He turned his back to me, running his hand through his hair. When he faced me again, he was relatively calmer. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
I battled over telling the truth and keeping it to myself just to spite him. My bitchy mood was voting for spite.
But I was fighting for him, not against him. Honesty it was. “I came to see Norma.”
His brows rose. “About Gwen?”
I covered my face with my hands then dropped them. “About you, you dummy. I don’t give a shit about anything but you.” My throat tightened with the truthfulness of my declaration. “Jesus, how many times do I have to go through this with you?” I threw his words back at him. Guess the spite was coming along with the fight. It helped keep away the tears.
“You came to talk to my employee about me?” His eye twitched and his jaw was tense. From my experience, that meant he was pissed. Beyond pissed.
And I’d been going for romantic.
I threw more of his words back. “Don’t guilt me for protecting what’s mine.”
His eyes sparked. That remark hit him—in a good way. In a way I didn’t know I could anymore. As if he were moved by my possessiveness.
I took advantage of his surprise and softened my approach. “I only wanted to see for myself if she was into you. If you had something going with her.”
Bitterness crept back in. With a pointed finger, I said, “And don’t you dare talk to me about trust because you know I get jealous about her, and you aren’t around to help reassure me.”
Every other word I said was pointed and harsh. I’d hated feeling so distraught. This new temperament wasn’t any better, but at least I was getting it out. It was like shedding my skin and underneath was nothing but raw and rugged emotion.
Hudson leaned his hip against the couch, regarding me closely. When he spoke, he was calm and controlled. As always. “Did you get what you came for?”
“I did.”
“And?”
I bit my lip, not wanting to give away any ground. Carefully, reluctantly, I answered. “She thinks a lot of you. She respects you and admires you and she recognizes you’re physically attractive—don’t let that go to your head.”
“But…”
“But she’s not into you anymore. I can see it in her eyes.” It was a fair way to avoid spilling Norma’s secret. Besides, I could see it in her eyes.
“Good. Then you believe the things I’ve told you.” He appeared pleased.
“It was never the things you’ve told me that were the issue. It’s the things you haven’t told me.”
“They aren’t your things to know,” he snapped back.
The sliver of composure I was maintaining disappeared. “What the ever living fuck?” I was infuriated. Enraged. Out of my mind with exasperation. “I could say the same thing about you—spying on me, digging into my history before you’d even met me—maybe I think those aren’t your things to know. Still, you did and do whatever the hell you want with no regard to boundaries or personal space.”
I squared my shoulders and faced him head on. “And while that’s out there, let me be clear—since you aren’t able to explain things to me, I’m digging on my own.”
Concern flashed through his eyes.
It fueled me. I wanted him off kilter. Wanted him where he always had me—flustered and imbalanced. “That’s right. I’ve been through all of the books Celia sent. I’ve been to see Stacy. And Norma. I’m collecting my own facts. Don’t you think it would be better to tell me your secrets than have me find them out on my own?”
“Alayna, stop digging.” He took a step toward me, his voice even but strained.
Why, why, why couldn’t he just tell me what I’d find? “You’re protecting Celia again, aren’t you?”
“Celia’s not who I’m protecting.”
“Who then? Yourself?” I was yelling, not even caring if his doors were solid enough to absorb the sound. “Me?”
He reached for me, grabbing me at the elbow. “You need to leave, now.”
With those five words the anger disappeared and the hurt returned full force. The air left my lungs. My chest constricted. My eyes filled. He wanted me to leave, wanted me gone. And the last thing I wanted was to leave.
We were at such odds. All there was between us lately was struggle. There was never any progress.
I wiped a renegade tear from my cheek. “Shutting me out again. Like you always do. Hiding behind your thick walls. What’s the point of me even fighting for you if you’re never, never going to let me in? Who are you protecting, Hudson? Who?”
His grip on me tightened. “Yes, you, dammit! I’m protecting you. Always you.”
Before I could blink his mouth was on mine, crushing into my lips, bruising me with his abrasive kiss. He tasted of the same neediness that I felt deep in my own belly—of lonely desperation. Of lust and affection that had been bottled for far too long.
My tears halted and my hands flew to his lapels, pulling him to me. I lifted my leg around his, my skirt bunching around my upper thighs. Pressing against him, I tilted my hips, rubbing my core against his erection. He groaned in frustration and I echoed the sound, eager to be even closer, not able to get close enough.
In a blur, he spun me toward the couch. I grasped the back as he removed my panties. He growled when his fingers dipped into my hole and found me wet—soaking wet. Next, I heard the sound of his belt, then his zipper. His palms settled on my ass. Then he drove into me, deep and hard, again and again. He grunted with each thrust, his balls slapping against my ass, his fingers curled around my hips like a vise-grip.