She pushed her way through the crush of bodies. The moment she reached her table, the waitress approached with a fresh tray of drinks.
“Did you order another round?” she asked Harper.
“From the gentleman at the bar,” the waitress answered. She set a Cosmo in front of Harper and a vodka tonic in front of Colin’s empty chair. But instead of another martini, Allie was served a squat tumbler filled with amber liquid. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a small sip. Scotch. Johnny Walker Blue, if she wasn’t mistaken. Not exactly her drink of choice, but it was . . .
Hudson.
Allie spun toward the bar. She saw a sea of faces, but not the one she hoped to find. Her heart sank. Of course it wasn’t him. They had agreed to keep their distance. And while her head told her it was the wise decision, her heart still sank.
When she turned back to the table she noticed a single word written in pen on the cocktail napkin that had been beneath her drink. Upstairs was all it said, but the handwriting was as familiar to her as her own.
Upstairs? Not very specific. She slid her beaded clutch across the table and into her lap, discreetly checking the burner phone while pretending to rummage around for lip gloss. Sure enough, a text from Hudson filled the locked screen.
Don’t make me wait.
Her gaze lifted to the spiral of balconies above the dance floor. There had to be dozens of booths and private lounges. She had no idea how she was going to find him, but she was damn sure going to try.
“I’ll be right back,” Allie said. “Gonna hit the ladies’ room.” She didn’t bother waiting for a reply from Harper. Instead she melted into the crowd, her pulse quickening with every step as she made her way toward the stairs. The grates on the metal treads offered a dizzying view she would have found unnerving under any other circumstance, but at the moment they didn’t even faze her. The only thing that mattered was finding Hudson.
The first balcony was essentially a wide catwalk with a row of circular booths. Each faced the center of the club, providing the perfect vantage point for watching the action on the dance floor below. It was doubtful Hudson would have chosen such a high-profile location, but she scanned them briefly before hurrying to the next level. The second balcony was deeper, offering private lounges with clusters of plush seating surrounding tables cluttered with bottles of premium liquor. A velvet rope hung across the staircase to the third balcony along with a sign that read PRIVATE EVENT. For a moment she considered the possibility that Hudson might have rented the entire floor, but then a ripple of awareness washed over her. Every nerve in her body sprang to life. He was close. She could feel his presence, his overwhelming desire, calling to her on the most base level.
Allie’s eyes darted across the expanse of the club. Most of the VIP lounges had their privacy curtains tied back, but on the far side of the balcony one lounge remained closed. Her skin prickled with anticipation as she followed the narrow path. Max emerged from the shadows as she drew closer, greeting her with a slight nod before drawing the curtain back. Allie stepped inside. The sight that greeted her took her breath away.
She’d barely seen Hudson since they returned from France, and when she did it was mostly as the billionaire mogul, dressed in designer suits and ready to conquer the world. But the man before her was younger and more dangerous, his stance predatory and his eyes dark. Dressed in jeans and a black sweater, he was sex personified. Allie licked her lips in anticipation because, for the moment at least, the only thing he looked ready to conquer was her.
* * *
Lights pulsed and shot down in laserlike beams of various hues to the beat of the pounding bass, while sweaty bodies undulated to the rhythm. High above in the VIP section, Hudson stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. He repositioned his grip and the muscles in his forearm flexed as his fingers compressed the crystal against his palm. The glass protested, yet bore the weight of his choke hold. It was all he could do to keep from going wrecking ball through the crowd to tear that smarmy fuck’s hands off Allie.
Without ever taking his eyes off the scene below, Hudson brought the glass to his lips. He took a moment to savor the potent proof, letting it roll over his tongue before sliding in a comfortable burn down his throat. An ambient glow caressed Allie’s skin, and when she slid her hand up the back of her neck to lift her hair, he could see a sheen of sweat glistening on her flesh. Her head listed back, and as her hips swayed to the music, he became even more aware of the heavy pulse vibrating down the length of his cock.
As if on cue, Allie returned to her table. The waitress weaved through the dense crowd and delivered another round of drinks per his instructions. Hudson watched until she found his message, then turned and casually strode into the VIP lounge he’d reserved for the night. The curtains, thick enough to provide total privacy, dropped in a rush behind him. He downed the rest of his scotch and set the empty glass on the coffee table. When he straightened, Allie was standing there, her eyes glassy from cocktails and her skin flushed from dancing. His gaze traced up her athletic legs—which he was dying to have wrapped around his hips, his face; he didn’t give a fuck as long as he was buried inside her with either his tongue or his cock—to the hem of her dress that was way too fucking short for public consumption, yet perfect.
A heavy, inescapable lust permeated the air in the confined space, heightening their mutual desire. His hands fisted at his sides and the beast within the civilized shell awoke. A hunger for her slammed into him and reverberated through his body. Christ, he wanted her; craved her with a greed so acute he would take her any way he could get her.
Her lips parted and the delicate expanse of her shoulders began to tremble. Unable to wait any longer, he stalked toward her, void of thought or decision. She came at him in a rush and their bodies met in a head-on collision of hands and tongues and mouths. In spite of the stress they were under, in spite of the shit that was threatening their future, Allie was the love of his life.
And he wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.
It felt like an eternity since they’d been together, and he was starved for a taste of her. Hudson sifted both of his hands through the sweat-damp roots of her hair and his tongue pushed past her lips. “I can’t go this long without you,” he rasped. As he deepened the kiss, he felt a primal need to erase the lingering palm prints of the guy who had touched her.
He pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at her through hooded eyes. “I hated seeing him all over you.” His hand smoothed up the back of her thigh and under her dress. “Touching what’s mine.” He palmed her ass and yanked her hard against the erection straining the fly of his jeans.
“I was thinking about you.” Allie molded her soft curves against his hard edges. “I wanted it to be you touching me. I always want it to be you.” The surrender in her voice charged his desire. He wanted to claim her as his, right there.
Hudson dipped his head and caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “Prove it,” he challenged.
“A dare, Mr. Chase?” Mischievous intent, undoubtedly fueled by alcohol, glimmered in Allie’s eyes. He loved her like this, willing to abandon her inhibitions and unapologetic about what she wanted from him. Only him.
He smirked. “If you can handle it.”
Allie’s hands came up and landed dead center on his chest. She pushed him backward and he obliged, taking a load off as soon as his calves hit the double-wide couch. He reclined and his knees fell to the sides. But instead of climbing into his lap, Allie stood in front of him, slowly inching her dress up her thighs. Christ, she was going to draw this out, tease him relentlessly. And all he wanted right now was her dropping down hard on his cock, her damp skin against his, and his mouth moving with hers if only to breathe the same air.