Fixed on You (12 page)

Avoiding his question, I dove for
my shirt at the foot of the bed, but Hudson beat me to it. “Stop,” he said,
holding my shirt out of my reach. He put his finger under my chin so that I
would look him in the eye. His brow creased in confusion and his tone held
sincerity. “I want you to stay. And, if you are so inclined, I’d prefer that
you not be dressed.”

I wanted to melt under his
invitation, but I refused to be affected. “You’re dressed,” I said, crossing my
arms over my chest again, sounding like a pouty child. The knot of anxiety was
tightening, and I was grabbing at anything I could to try to stand my ground.

“As soon as the food’s here, I’ll
be happy to lose the clothing. Would that make you feel better?”

“Yes.” But that was my hormones
talking. My hormones wanted him naked. And hard. And slippery with sweat.

But my brain wasn’t sure it was a
good idea. “I don’t know,” I corrected.

Still holding my chin, he brushed
my cheek with his other hand. “What’s going on inside your head, precious? Are
you going to run off every time we have sex?”

He wanted to have sex with me
again.
My girl parts clenched at the thought. But, as my arousal piqued, so
did the terror throbbing in my veins. Usually sex ended any interest I had in a
guy. Except for before—when nothing ended my interest in a guy and I obsessed
about them endlessly. And now—when every part of my body screamed with the need
to have more of the man in front of me. Oh, fucking god, was I falling into old
patterns?

 I turned away. “I hadn’t really
thought this would be more than a one-time thing, Hudson.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me
to him. “Alayna.” He searched my eyes, looking for an answer I knew he wouldn’t
find because I didn’t have the answers myself. “If you don’t want to have sex
with me again, you need to tell me.”

“I do!” His hands on me, and his
piercing eyes elicited the truth from my lips. “I do,” I said again softly. I
threw my arms around him and pressed my face against his chest, nuzzling his
hard pecs. He returned my embrace.
So warm.
He felt so warm and safe and
strong. Like he could shield me from whatever scared me. Like the reality of
him—the reality of what he was to me—might be enough to keep me from needing
more.

“What is it?” His voice was light.
He stroked my hair, and my panic lowered half a notch. “Tell me.”

Tears threatened and I was
grateful he couldn’t see my face. Was I doomed to live the rest of my life
afraid of becoming close to people? To men? “I’m not good at relationships. Of
any sort. I have…issues.” What the fuck was I doing? Casual sex meant no
sharing of inner secrets. But it felt good to say it.

“Like what?” Hudson’s hands
tangled in my hair, soothing me. “Does this have anything to do with that
restraining order?”

The floor dropped from underneath
me. I couldn’t move. “You know about that?” No one knew about that. At least,
very few people. Brian, my support group, Liesl had heard bits and pieces. But
I would never have told Hudson. I broke free of his arms and fell onto the bed,
burying my face in the blankets. “Oh, god, I’m so embarrassed!”

He laughed and lay on the bed
next to me, his head propped on his elbow near mine. He rubbed his hand across
my backside, massaging my tense muscles. It felt so good that, had I not been
dying of humiliation, I’m sure I would have moaned.

When he spoke, his voice was low
and at my ear. “I know intimate things about you, precious—the way you look and
the sounds you make when you’re about to come—and you’re concerned about this?”

I groaned into the bed, half from
misery and half from the pleasure I felt from his fingers on my back. I turned
my head so he could hear me talk, but away from him so I wouldn’t have to see
his face. “It was a big deal. The biggest deal. Like my biggest secret. I
thought my brother had buried it.” I rose up on my elbow and turned to eye him.
“And are you saying I should be embarrassed about how I look and sound when…you
know?”

“I needed to know anything that
might come up about my pretend girlfriend. It wasn’t necessarily easy to find,
but not incredibly hard. It’s been buried now.” He cupped my cheek, his eyes
growing dark. “And never, never be ashamed of how you look or sound at any
time, especially when you’re about to come.” He circled his nose around mine.
“I’m honored to be acquainted with you in that way.”

“I’m mortified.” I let my head
fall back on the bed, but stayed facing him. “About the restraining order, I
mean. I don’t know how to react to the other.”

“Why?”

He ran his hand across my face
and through my hair, each stroke setting off an electric charge that sparked in
my core. It relaxed me and comforted me and made me feel like Jello. He could
have asked me anything right then and I’d have surrendered. “Because it makes
me feel all weird and tingly. And turned on.”

“Fantastic.” He grinned. “But I
meant, why are you mortified?”

“Oh.” I flushed. What I’d said in
error was actually less embarrassing than what he had really asked. But since
he was still stroking me with that magic hand of his that had more power than
Chinese water torture, I answered him that, too. “Because it’s evidence of my
crazy. You know, when I said I love too much? The restraining order is part of
that, and I like to pretend it never happened.”

“Then it never did.” He kissed my
nose. “We’ve all done insane things in the past. I’d never hold it against
you.” He stopped stroking my hair, and looked somewhere beyond me. “Just
another reason romantic love holds no interest for me. People get crazy with
it.”  

Then he relaxed and focused back
on me. “But going back to the heart of this conversation—why does that have a
bearing on a relationship between you and me?”

I sat up, unnerved by how easily
he dismissed my past behavior. “I freaked out, Hudson. About a guy.” He wasn’t
taking me seriously and I needed him to understand. “Several guys, actually,
but it was the last one that ended not well.”

He sat up next to me, our
shoulders brushing. “And do you think you’re going to ‘freak out’ about me?”

I focused on my hands in my lap.
“I really can’t honestly tell you. I’ve stayed away from any relationships for
a while so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Trying to have something now with
you—it’s uncharted territory for me.” Truthfully, as scared as I was of falling
into unhealthy patterns, I didn’t want to end things with Hudson. And we would
be working together. Even if the best course of action was to not sleep with
him again, would I be able to resist?

I looked him in the eyes,
wondering if I’d scared him off yet. Because as much as I knew he should run, I
hoped he wouldn’t. “I haven’t freaked out so far. With you. And I don’t want to
not have sex with you again. I mean…” I turned away, blushing for the millionth
time.

He wrapped his arms around me and
nibbled on my ear. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. I don’t want to not
have sex with you again either. So we won’t do that. We’ll have tons of incredible
sex instead.”

I let myself be held in his
embrace. “I’m not saying yes, yet.” But wasn’t I? “I have to take this one day
at a time.” And what would I do if I woke up one morning completely obsessed
with him? As if I could stop things with him at that point.

“Alayna, you might have to take
this one day at a time, but I already know there will be tons of fucking
between the two of us.” He pulled me closer, and I melted at his words, at his
touch. “In fact, I’m going to have to be inside you again before you leave for
work.”

I felt his erection at my bare
belly. Instead of being surprised and ashamed that I still wanted him so very
much, I decided to relish in it. “Like right now?”

He kissed me, deeply, his tongue
taking over my mouth. Then, just as quickly, he broke away. “Not right now,
precious. Dinner’s almost he—” The intercom buzzed before he’d finished his
word. He smiled as he stood. Then he headed to the front room, saying over his
shoulder, “But your enthusiasm is super hot.”

 I smiled to myself, enjoying the
residual tingle from our kiss. Fuck. Dinner was here and I wasn’t dressed.
Putting on my own clothes now would be a statement. Staying naked would be too.
I sat up and eyed his shirt on top of the laundry basket. It would have to do
as a compromise.

I pulled off my shorts and had
barely finished buttoning his shirt when Hudson returned with a bag of food in
one hand and two plates in the other. He scanned me up and down, a pleased
glint in his eye. “If you have to be dressed, I completely approve.”

Suddenly feeling playful, I
curtsied. “Well, thank you very much, Mr. Pierce. I don’t know what I’d do
without your approval.”

He grinned, crossing to the bed.
“Should I undress? I said I would.”

“Not if you want me to actually
eat. I’d be much too distracted. And I already have a hard time with
chopsticks.”

Hudson gestured for me to join
him on the bed. “Do you need me to feed you?”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

We ate together, eating Mongolian
beef and Szechuan chicken spread out over the bed.  I struggled with my
chopsticks, half of my food not making it to my mouth. Every now and then he
fed me, and I let him, enjoying being cared for in a way I hadn’t been in a
long time, if ever.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”
Hudson asked after he’d left and returned with two glasses of iced tea. “Before
work, I mean.”

 I took a swallow, moved that
Hudson chose to drink with me when he probably preferred wine. “I’m off work at
three tonight. Or tomorrow morning, however you want to look at it. I’ll
probably sleep a good part of the day. I work at nine tomorrow night. Why?”

He reached over to feed me
another bite. “I need to take you shopping. You’ll need an outfit for my
mother’s charity event.”

I practically choked on a water
chestnut. “Oh my freaking god, one inappropriate outfit and you assume I can’t
dress myself. Seriously, I should burn it.”

“That’s not it at all. I happen
to love that outfit and would be very disappointed to find you’d burned it. I
actually hope to see you wearing it again. In private, of course.” His eyes
glazed, perhaps picturing me in the tight corset I’d worn that night I
officially met him. “And I’ve adored every other outfit of yours.” He tugged at
the bottom of my shirt—
his
shirt—that I was wearing. “You have an
excellent sense of fashion. But my mother would expect a girl I dated to be
dressed…” He paused. “How should I put it?”

I kind of liked watching him
struggle with his words for once. But he seemed miserable so I helped him out.
“I get it. I need designer clothes.” I paused, trying to decide if I was
offended. “I guess if you want to take me out and buy me expensive clothes, I’m
not going to argue.”

His lips curled slightly. “That’s
a beautiful attitude. I’ll pick you up at two. Plan to spend the day with me.
And don’t look at me like that—there will only be sex if you want there to be.”

Of course I’d want there to be.
But whether or not I thought it should happen remained to be seen. I let myself
consider it. “How do you intend on this working, exactly? Do you text me when
you want a booty call?”

“Sure. Or you can text me. Or we
can arrange ahead of time like we did tonight.” Hudson studied me. “What would
you say to no condoms?”

 I’d always thought condoms were
a drag, but I hadn’t ever been in a committed relationship where I could
consider not using them. It struck me as odd that after one time I was having
this conversation with Hudson. “I suppose if you’re clean…I’m on birth control.
I get the shot. My last STD test was a month ago and it came back clean.”

“I am clean. I’m checked monthly.
And I hate condoms.”

“Then no more condoms.”

He smiled and I caught my
mistake.

“If I agree, I mean.”

“Mmhmm.” He stroked his hand up
my bare thigh. Sexual tension hung in the air between us, but my brain screamed
at me to be cautious.

I hugged my knees, casually
pulling away from his touch. “You said you expected fidelity—can I expect the
same from you? Or will you be using this loft with other women?”

Hudson moved our leftover dinner
to the floor, clearing the space between us. Then he put a hand on each of my
knees, pinning me with his eyes. “I’m not a slut, Alayna. This loft has been
used for sex, yes, but I have it so I can be close to my office, not for
fucking.” He stretched a hand out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “I
will be as faithful as I expect you to be.”

His nearness, his touch, his
promise of fidelity—it stirred my arousal, begging me to give in. But it also
tugged at something much deeper, something both familiar and unknown, something
I couldn’t name or identify, and I knew if I tried, it—whatever it was—would
come rushing up and consume me.

I scrambled off the bed. “I can’t
think about this anymore right now.” I began gathering my clothing.

“Why are you panicking?” Hudson
stood as well.

I turned to him, suddenly angry—with
him, with myself, with my stupid compulsion to cling and drive people away,
with my parents for dying and pushing me into that behavior. “You know, it’s
all very good and fine for you to say you want a committed sexual relationship.
You’ll have no problem remaining unemotionally involved—that’s your default.
It’s not my default. Don’t you see what you’re asking of me might be impossible
for me to deliver?” I rubbed at my eyes, hoping to stop any tears before they
dared to fall.

Hudson reached toward me, but I stepped
away. “The more we have sex, Hudson, the more I’m likely to latch on, and even
if you were into that, you wouldn’t be into the level that I latch. So, trust
me when I say this has bad idea written all over it. Let’s call this a
wonderful—oh, my god, such a wonderful evening—and now we need to move on.”