Found in You Page 2

  He shifted over me and sucked further down my body, heading toward my breasts. Obviously, we were already headed for round two. “I’m glad you’re here, precious.” He tugged my nipple between his teeth then eased the sting with a swirl of his tongue.

  I drew in a deep breath, delighting in the mix of pleasure and pain as he showered my other breast with the same attention. His nickname for me, precious, floated through my mind as his mouth licked at my skin. He’d called me that since our first sexual encounter, nearly two weeks before. Had it only been that long? And had it only been another week before that when I’d first met him at the club, when I didn’t yet know he was the Hudson Pierce? It already seemed like a lifetime. The term of endearment he used for me had held weight from the first moment he’d said it. But we’d only just met then. Maybe it didn’t have as much meaning as I attributed to it.

  Curiosity overtook me even though my body was already vibrating under his ardor. “Why do you call me that, anyway?”

  He answered without looking up from my bosom. “Because you are.”

  “You started calling me precious before you could ever possibly know.”

  “Not true.” He propped his elbow up on the bed and leaned his head on his hand. “I knew the minute I first saw you.”

  For a brief second I thought he meant at the bar—the first night I had seen him. Then I remembered he’d seen me nearly two weeks before that when I was still working on my MBA and he’d been in the audience during my graduate symposium. I hadn’t found out about that until later, and he’d barely told me anything about it.

  I propped my torso up on my elbows and eagerly waited for him to continue.

  “You were on that stage at Stern,” he said, his hand stroking along the dip and curve of my waist to my hip. “When you started your presentation, you were nervous. It took you a few minutes to fall into the rhythm of your speech. But when you hit your stride, you were magnificent. Yet you had no idea. It was completely obvious that it never crossed your mind that the room was full of people who would have hired you had you spoken to any of them. Thank god, you didn’t. Because I watched them watch you and I knew. I knew that they saw you were smart. They saw you had business savvy. But none of them recognized the rare jewel that stood before them. Precious.”

  Tears stung at the corners of my eyes. No one had ever seen me like that, no had ever even looked. Not my parents before they died or my brother, Brian, or any of the men I’d ever dated or obsessed over. No one.

  “I love you, Hudson.” It was out before I could think not to say it, before I could worry about him freaking like he had the first time I’d voiced my feelings for him. I wouldn’t have been able to keep the words inside if I’d wanted to—they were always at the surface now, at risk of tumbling off my tongue at any given moment. If we were going to make a relationship work, we’d both have to get comfortable with it.

  My eyes never left his while he processed my declaration.

  Then, in a flash, he covered his body with mine. Bracing one hand under my neck, he circled my nose with his. “You can tell me that as many times as you like,” he said, repeating my earlier words.

  “I plan on it.” But it came out mumbled, lost inside his mouth as his lips overtook mine, and we expressed our emotions with our tongues and hands and bodies and a slew of other ways that didn’t require talking.

  Chapter Two

  Awareness of movement in the room woke me the next morning. I opened my eyes and saw Hudson adjusting his tie in front of the dresser mirror, his back to me. He had yet to put on his jacket so I had a full view of his tight behind. God, that man could wear a suit. He could wear nothing as easily. I wasn’t choosy.

  He met my eyes in the mirror and a slight smile graced his lips. “Good morning.”

  “Morning. I’m enjoying the view.”

  “So am I.”

  I blushed and pulled the sheet up over my naked body. The room seemed awfully light for as early as it had to be. “What time is it?” I glanced around for a clock and found none.

  “Almost eleven.” He finished with his tie—a silver patterned one that brought out his eyes—and opened a drawer, retrieving a pair of dress socks.

  Eleven? Hudson was usually at work before eight. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you have made half a million dollars by now?”

  “Half a billion,” he said, straight-faced, as he sat on the bed next to me. “But they don’t need me for that. I canceled my morning.”

  “When did you do that?” I was mesmerized with watching him put on his socks. It shouldn’t be so sexy to watch a man get dressed, yet my belly tightened and my girl parts started humming.

  “Last night. Before you got here.”

  “Smart thinking.” His invitation to spend the night in his penthouse had come at the beginning of my shift at The Sky Launch. I’d obsessed about it the entire evening, but being at work, there was nothing I could do to prepare for it. I didn’t even have a change of clothing or a toothbrush. It hadn’t occurred to me that Hudson would have used the time to get ready for my arrival. But of course he did. He was a very organized man, a planner with a fine attention to detail.

  And since two rounds of lovemaking had transpired, we hadn’t gone to sleep until nearly six in the morning. Canceling his morning was good planning indeed.

  I yawned and stretched my arms over my head, the sheet falling below my breasts as I did.

  Socks on, Hudson stood and peered down at me, his eyes clouding as he perused my naked body. “Fuck, Alayna, you’re making me want to cancel my afternoon, too. And I can’t cancel my afternoon.”

  I grinned. “Sorry.” But I wasn’t. Hudson could make me wet from across a crowded room. It was nice to think I had some of the same power over him. “Um, I need to get up. Is that going to be too…distracting?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me then turned and disappeared into a closet returning with a cream robe. “Here.”

  I took the robe from him, not bothering to put it on until I was standing.

  “You’re a wicked, wicked woman,” he said as he watched me pull the garment around myself.

  “And you love it.”

  Without acknowledging my statement, he nodded toward a closed door. “The bathroom’s there. There should be brand new toothbrushes in one of the drawers. Look around until you find what you need.”

  “Thank you.” I crossed to him and gave him a peck on the cheek before making my way to the bathroom to pee.

  It hadn’t been a cuddly afterglow morning like we’d spent together at Mabel Shores, his family’s summerhouse in the Hamptons. But this was Hudson—aloof and compartmentalized. He was focused on getting to work, and, to his credit, he’d been pretty hospitable considering.

  I found the toothbrush easily; as he’d said, there was a drawer full of them. While I brushed, I wondered about that. What was with the surplus? Did he simply want to always be prepared, in case he needed a new one? Maybe he believed toothbrushes should be disposable. He certainly could afford that attitude.

  Or did he have them for overnight guests? Female overnight guests, to be precise.

  I might have decided I was being paranoid, except it wasn’t only the toothbrushes. Now that I looked around, there was floral scented deodorant by one of the sinks with a bottle of women’s face cream and another bottle of moisturizer next to it.

  And the robe—the woman’s robe that I was wearing at that very moment —where had that come from?

  A chill ran down my spine. I tightened the sash around myself, despite my growing concern that I was wearing clothing that belonged to someone else. To another woman. Another woman in Hudson’s life.

  Okay, okay. No need to panic. Maybe there had been other women before me at the penthouse. That was fine. Not wonderful, but fine. I just wished he hadn’t lied about it. And why had he lied about it?
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br />   I opened the moisturizer and brought the bottle to my nose. It smelled fresh and familiar—was that the scent Celia wore?

  Now I was being ridiculous. Paranoid, even. Knowing that didn’t change the sick, angry emotion rooting through my gut. It was a feeling I’d once been very intimate with. The driving force of most of the unhealthy behaviors I’d acted upon in the past. Behaviors I did not want to relive.

  I had to get calm, handle the situation constructively. I forced myself to count to ten. In between each number I repeated the mantra I’d learned in counseling: when in doubt, talk it out. One, when in doubt, talk it out. Two, when in doubt, talk it out.

  Yeah, easier said than done.

  By the time I reached four, the mantra had turned into when in fucking doubt and still I was very much doubting.

  But that was my tendency, my go-to in all of my relationships. I jumped to conclusions—conclusions that very often were way off-base and unfounded. Late nights at work meant another girlfriend. Mysterious phone calls meant cheating. With my previous boyfriends, I never asked. I assumed. I accused.

  Not this time. This time I would be different. Even though the evidence suggested that Hudson had lied to me, I couldn’t accept that as fact. I would have to ask him about it.

  I scrubbed my face clean with the facial cream, hoping that stalling before I talked to Hudson would relieve the simmer of fury. After patting my face dry with a hand towel, I convinced myself that I was together enough to address him and started out of the bathroom, grabbing the cream and moisturizer to take with me as evidence.

  So, maybe collecting evidence was more of an attack than a discussion tactic. As long as I didn’t end up throwing them, I considered it an improvement on my past.

  Hudson wasn’t in the bedroom when I came out, so I made my way out through the apartment until I found him in the kitchen. He’d donned his suit jacket now, and he stood at the kitchen table, reading the paper as he drank from a mug.

  He looked up when I appeared. “I made you some—”

  “Why do you have all this stuff?” Though I’d cut him off, I was pretty sure my question sounded more curious than accusatory. Hopefully.

  “What stuff?”

  “This stuff.” I set the bottles on the table in front of him. All right, maybe it was closer to a slam. “And you have a plethora of toothbrushes and this woman’s robe. Why do you have a woman’s robe?”

  His eyes narrowed and he took a sip from his beverage before answering. “I have more than the robe. I have several pieces of women’s clothing in the extra closet in my bedroom.”

  “That’s not helping.” The panic I thought I had smothered deep inside worked its way up my throat, tightening my voice. “You told me you never had a woman here before.”

  “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

  The gleam in his eye unleashed me. “You detect more than a fucking hint. Also, a whole lot of suspicion. Come on, H, this isn’t any way to start a relationship. If you’ve had a woman here—if this is someone else’s clothing I’m wearing—I need to know.” My eyes burned, but I managed to keep them pinned on him.

  Hudson set his mug down and turned his whole body toward me.

  I kept my hand on the table, bracing myself for whatever excuse he’d give. What he said—if he chose to speak the truth, if I chose to believe him—it could make or break us.

  “They’re yours, Alayna.”

  “What?” That, I wasn’t expecting.

  “I purchased them for you. Except the toothbrushes. My housekeeper buys me those so I have plenty for when I travel. The clothing and cosmetics are yours.”

  Mine?

  No, it wasn’t possible.

  I swallowed. “When did you get them?” Had he been planning for me to be there before he invited me? Or was this part of the scam we’d tried to pull on his mother, a piece of proof that we were a couple should anyone look in his closet?

  “Last night after I left the club.”

  Last night. “But that was almost eight.” He’d left me at the start of my shift. That couldn’t have possibly been enough time to arrange anything. “How did—”

  “I understand what it looks like,” he cut me off. “There’s likely still a tag on the robe if you…” He reached his hand inside my collar and tugged. “Yes, see?” He held up a tag, the price—an extravagant price for a robe—listed boldly under the size.

  I glanced over at the cosmetic bottles again. They were completely full, seemingly unused. I hadn’t realized that in my heated emotion. But, still, I had questions. “Why? How...?”

  “Why? Because I knew you’d have nothing to wear today and I didn’t want you to have to do the so-called walk of shame through my lobby. Plus I figured you’d want to wash that club makeup off your face and freshen up a bit. As for how…I have people.”

  I ran my hands through my hair. “You have people.” The tension in my shoulders relaxed slightly as I processed what he’d said. He’d left me at work and then he’d prepared. As he always prepared. He’d canceled his morning. He’d arranged to have clothing for me. Even at that late hour, Hudson managed to make arrangements. Because he had people.

  “Mirabelle?” I asked. Hudson’s sister, Mira, owned her own boutique. She knew my size, knew what I’d look good in.

  “Yes.” He cocked his head. “And others.”

  Others like the same people he had launder and deliver my undies within a couple of hours when I’d left them at his office one time. Like Jordan who was always available to drive me to and fro at the drop of a hat. I’d known he had others.

  “Oh.” A medley of emotions washed over me as I let the pieces settle into place. I was relieved to find my jealousy was unfounded and delighted to realize how much thought Hudson had put into my arrival at his apartment. I was also touched to know he was serious about wanting our relationship to work, because didn’t this type of preparation show sincerity?

  But then I also felt embarrassed. And ashamed. I’d overreacted, and even though I hadn’t gone crazy like I would have in the past, I felt the seed of it inside. It scared me. Scared me to know Hudson saw it too.

  I lowered my eyes to my hands where I wrung the sash of the robe anxiously. “It must be nice to have people,” I mumbled. “I want people.” Silly, senseless words, but they were all I had.

  Hudson lifted my chin to meet his stare. “I want you.”

  The look on his face—he wasn’t upset by my outburst at all. Other men had been scared away by similar unfounded accusations. But Hudson—not only did his expression show an absence of fear, it showed hunger, desire. Almost as though my paranoia was a turn-on.

  “You have me,” I whispered.

  He took the sash from my hands and pulled the knot free. “I want you right now.” His hand wrapped around my breast, squeezing as his thumb flicked across my nipple.

  “Oh, you want me, want me.”

  “Uh-huh.” He shifted me so my backside was against the table. Flattening his palm between my breasts, he pushed me down; the surface of the table met hard with my backside and a brief flash of worry about spilling his coffee and breaking the cosmetic bottles entered my mind.

  “And I want you now.”

  Fuck the coffee. Let it spill.

  Hudson nudged me back so that my bottom met up with the edge of the table, scooting the bottles out of the way with his arm as he did. I was laid out before him now, my robe open to expose the most intimate parts of me.

  His eyes darkened as he rubbed his hands in long strokes from my belly up to my breasts and back again. Then they went lower, to the center of my desire.

  “I could stare at your pussy all day long.” His fingers slid through my folds and circled my hole.

  “Don’t you have to be somewhere?” My voice didn’t sound like mine, breathy and needy and desperate.

 
; And what the hell was I doing? I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want him to stop. Please, god, don’t let him stop.

  “I do have someplace to be. We’ll have to be quick.” His hands left me to work on opening his pants. “But I’m not leaving here without fucking you good morning.”

  I may have sighed out loud in anticipation.

  Leaning up on my elbows, I watched as Hudson adjusted his pants and briefs enough to free his stiff cock. A sight I’d never tire of. And it was all mine, only mine.

  Another random worry crossed my mind. “Your housekeeper isn’t going to walk in on us, is she?”

  “She comes on Tuesday and Friday. If I’m not mistaken, it’s Wednesday.” He grabbed my ankles and bent my legs up. “And if she did walk in, would you care?”

  He thrust in.

  “No,” I gasped. Right then I didn’t care about anything but the man in front of me. The man inside me. The man who wanted me, wanted me in his house, wanted me in his bed. Wanted me in his life despite my shortcomings.

  Hudson pulled out and pressed back in, again and again, the sturdy table rocking with the force of his jabs. He adopted a rapid tempo, apparently serious about the have to be quick. At this rate, he’d be there soon.

  He adjusted his grip on my ankles and folded my knees into my chest, the new position bringing him deeper inside me. “Touch yourself, precious.” His voice was tight with effort to hold on. “Let’s come together.”

  Without hesitation, I moved my hand to rub my clit, swirling the bud at a speed that matched his. I’d done this before—played with myself for his viewing pleasure. It was a turn-on for him, based on how quickly it always brought him to release.

  It was a turn on for me, too. To see the pleasure in his face, to feel his drive increase as I writhed and moaned at my own touch—there was nothing hotter. Already, I was tightening, clenching around him.

  “That’s it, Alayna.” His face contorted. “Fuck, that’s… it…” His voice broke as he came, shoving deeper into me as his climax erupted.