I’m pretty damn sure even Martha Stewart would approve of this set-up.
Confident everything is in place, I glance at my reflection one last time in the mirror and second-guess my clothing choice. Again. The navy J. Crew sweater and relaxed khakis are definitely a step up from my usual faded jeans and thermal, and I’m afraid it comes off like I’m trying too hard. But fuck, I really need her to understand how important this is to me.
How important she is to me.
My fingers sift through my hair, attempting to bring some kind of order to the unruly brown mop on top of my head. Damn it, I should’ve gotten a haircut today. I knew I forgot something.
The knock at the door paralyzes me for a brief second, causing me to forget about anything but the girl standing on the other side of that wooden threshold. My girl. Inhaling a deep breath in through my nose then blowing it out in a whoosh between my lips, I stride to the door and turn the knob, opening it to the most beautiful sight imaginable.
Hudson. Stunning in all black with her hair swooped up in some twist thing on her head.
Blinking hard, she shakes her head around as if to clear it out, and then pins me with her icy blue stare.
“Crew? What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice heavy with confusion and disbelief. Stepping backward, her eyes flit around the exterior of the remote cabin before returning to mine. “What’s going on?”
I swing the door open wide, revealing to her the great room behind me. My chest tightens when she gasps. “Waiting for you to get here,” I reply, unable to keep the corners of my mouth from ticking up in a silly grin at her stunned expression. “Come in. Get in out of the snow.”
Grabbing her hand, I allow no time for her to protest as I tug her inside and close the door behind her.
“Wait a minute!” She spins out of my grasp and crosses her arms over her chest, which frames the sexy cleavage she’s got working in her V-neck sweater. Shit, she’s fucking gorgeous. I can’t fuck this up.
“Answer my questions,” she demands. “Does Grams know it’s you who’s here? Why are you here? Whose place is this?”
My hands reach out and grasp her shoulders, undeterred by her superficial anger. “Hudson.” Her breath hitches and her pupils dilate as her name falls from my tongue like warm melted butter. She may damn well be upset with me, and for good reason, but her body can’t deny the effect I have on her. She still belongs to me.
“Give me five minutes to talk. Please, just hear me out,” I urge. “If after that you don’t want to be here anymore, then I won’t ever bother you again.” That’s a bold-faced lie. There’s no way I wouldn’t—couldn’t—try to get her back again, but I want her to feel in control right now. The last thing I want is to make her anymore defensive than she already is.
The resolve in her eyes fades as she detects the desperation in mine. “Five minutes.” She glances down at her watch, like she’s actually going to time me. “Whatcha got?”
With my hands still on her shoulders, I close the gap between us a little bit more. The first part of my speech, I want us to be face-to-face so she can see the sincerity pouring from every part of me.
“I thought the day Caleb was diagnosed with epilepsy was the worse day of my life,” I plant my feet, bracing to bare my raw emotions, “but nothing could’ve prepared me for what I felt the morning I found him on the floor. I was fucking gutted. Not being there to protect my baby brother? Shit, Hudson. How could I look anybody in the eye? It was…the worst fucking weight imaginable.”
Stopping for a few seconds, I breathe myself through the memory, just as my therapist taught me to do. “I fucked up and I know it. I used you. Heartlessly. Callously. Repeatedly. I was a selfish fucking bastard, too blind to see you were hurting too. That you needed me too. And I needed to hurt somebody. I needed somebody else to feel the same crushing pain I was drowning in. And…you were there. So I hurt you. Took you down with me. Self-fucking-destruction.
“And, Hudson, what I finally figured out was that hurt worse than Caleb’s death. ‘Cause his was an accident. But pushing you away? That was all me. All my fucking fault. And I didn’t think I deserved forgiveness. I’ll never deserve you. Ever. But, Caleb? He’d kick my ass if I didn’t try. If I didn’t swallow every bit of pride I’d ever thought I had and at least give the truth.
“Being with you—even then, even when my world had fallen apart and I’d turned it into something ugly, some farce of what we’d had—you made me so damn happy. And I felt like I was cheating on Caleb’s memory if I stole any shred of happiness with you. So I had to destroy it. To punish myself.”
I release her shoulders, lifting my hands to wipe away the tears streaming down both of her cheeks. She doesn’t flinch or back away. My heart pounds. “I want you to turn around and look at this place for a minute.”
Slow to do as I ask, she gradually spins around to face the wide-open space, methodically taking in everything I have ready for her. I eliminate the distance between us, stepping up behind her to press my chest against her back, and slip my arms around her waist.
“Hudson,” I whisper into her neck, inhaling the refreshing smell of her shampoo. “I’m sorry. I never want you to doubt how sorry I am for the way I treated you.”
The tip of my nose traces along the shell of her ear. First up, then down. “I miss you. From the first day we hung out, all I’ve thought about is you. Your smile…fuck, those lips, the things they do to me. Your spirit. You heal people, Hudson, and I wasn’t ready to be healed. To be whole. But I can’t live like this any longer. In pieces without you. I can’t be whole without you.”
My mouth drops to the base of her neck, feathering over the silky skin to the exposed collarbone. “And, fuck, Hudson, I’m ready to live again. But I can’t do that without you. How I made it through my first nineteen years, I’ll never fucking understand, because my life didn’t start until you entered it.”
Her cheeks lift in a feeble smile at my light-hearted comment, and mine follow suit. I draw her against me and she doesn’t pull away. Pushing my luck, I feather kisses down her neck gently, hoping to God I’m not moving too fast.
“I want you.” Pressing my hips against her, my thickening cock nestles between her ass cheeks, which feel almost fucking naked covered by only a pair of thin black leggings. My hands grip her small waist, desperate to claim her fully. “Every minute of every hour of every day. All I want is you. It fucking consumes me.”
“Crew.” My name sounds like something between a breath and a moan as it escapes her mouth.
Raising my lips up to her jaw, I lazily kiss my way back to her ear. “Do you see this place, snow angel? This is to prove to you how serious I am about you—about us. If you’re willing, I’d like to spend the entire New Year’s weekend here. Just you and me. There’s a refrigerator full of food, a hot tub to relax in, a stocked DVD library, and a comfortable-ass king-sized bed.”
She leans her head on my shoulder and tilts her head up to look up at me, her eyes wildly searching. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“I was afraid you may need a little more convincing,” I kiss the tip of her nose and release my hold on her to reach for the gift in my back pocket, “so I have this for you too.”
Twirling back around to face me, her eyes flit down to the rectangular package wrapped in solid silver paper I’m holding out to her, then up to me. “Wha—what is it?”
“A gift…your Christmas gift.” My voice trembles slightly, shoving it into her grasp. This is my trump card. If this doesn’t work… “Open it.”