Fixed on You (22 page)

He wasted no time establishing a
steady rhythm, powering into me with each stroke. The strength it must have
taken to hold me in that position and to fuck me with such force amazed me. I’d
known he was fit, but hadn’t realized the extent. The awareness heightened my
arousal and slickened my sex, allowing him to slide in and out with ease. My
breasts bounced with our movement, and shocks of delight shot through my body
as my sensitive nipples brushed against his chest. “Hudson, yes. God, yes.”

Our eyes remained locked and I
could see the strain and the pleasure etched in his forehead as he continued to
pound us toward climax. “So…damn…good,” he panted. “You feel…so…damn…good.”

His encouragement and the sound
of our thighs slapping drove me insane, so close to orgasm. With each thrust of
his hips, my sex tightened around his steel erection. He turned me to the wall
for added support, adjusting his stance so he could pummel me with greater
impetus. The new position freed his hand, and he rubbed my clit as his crown
found a tender spot. “Come with me, Alayna,” he commanded. “Come.”

His authoritative tone and
circling thumb were my undoing. I threw my head back into the wall, my cunt
trembling as my orgasm crashed through me. He followed, groaning my name while
he released into me in long, hot spurts.

I unwrapped my legs from his
waist and felt numbly for the floor with my foot, knowing that he couldn’t
possibly continue to carry me after that violent of a release. Though he no longer
held my weight, he didn’t let go of me.

“Can we do that again?” I panted,
before our bodies had even cooled.

His brow furrowed as he released
his grasp on me to look at his watch. “You have to be to work at one? I think
we can manage to do that again twice.”

“Okay, H, we need to have a heart
to heart.” We’d been on the road to the Hamptons for less than ten minutes, but
I was too anxious to postpone this conversation. I swiveled in the front seat
of the Mercedes and pushed my sunglasses to my head so I could see Hudson
clearly.

He glanced sideways at me, his
own eyes hidden behind his dark Ray Bans. “Sounds intriguing.”

I took a deep breath. “I have
some grievances about last night.”

His brow rose skeptically over
his sunglasses, but he kept his eyes on the road.

“Not that part of last night.” I
hit his arm playfully. “The earlier part of the night. The later part was
fine.”

He frowned. “Only fine?”

“More than fine,” I laughed. “It
was spectacular. Incredibly spectacular.” My thighs tensed just thinking about
the sensual delight we’d experienced the night before at the loft. A kernel of
insecurity crept in under my praise, causing me to wonder if he felt the same.
Bracing myself, I asked, “How did you think it was?”

“Fine.” His smirk let me know
that he was teasing, but I lightly pinched his thigh anyway. Another excuse to
touch him. 

He took one hand off the wheel
and grabbed the hand that had pinched him. “Careful! I’m driving.” He brought
my hand to his mouth and nipped at my finger before letting it go. “But you
have grievances?”

I pushed away thoughts that his
mouth on my skin had elicited. “Yes. I do. I was not prepared for the situation
you put me in. I need to know more going forward. I knew nothing about the
Werners being at the symphony last night. Couldn’t you have at least given me a
heads up?”

Hudson took off his sunglasses
and studied me, as if trying to gauge my seriousness.

I was very serious. I was tired
of always being in the dark about him and the world that he weaved me in and
out of so flippantly. 

He tucked his sunglasses into the
compartment above his mirror, not needing them anymore with the sun setting and
us directed east. “Except for your predilection for putting your hands all over
me—“

“Oh, don’t exaggerate.”

“—you were magnificent.” He was
serious as well, which shocked me. I felt anything but magnificent. “How would
any information I could have given you have changed how you performed?”

I opened my mouth but found I
didn’t have a specific answer. “I would have been more at ease because I was
prepared.” That was the best I could come up with. “The same goes for the day
at the fashion show. I could have handled your mother, Celia—” I paused,
wanting to indicate what I’d found out about his past without actually saying
it. “You know, the whole day would have been better if I’d been prepared.”

“Again, I thought you were
brilliant.”

“Not on the inside. And it’s the
inside stuff that makes me do crazy things. Like stalk office buildings.” I
winced as I mentioned the embarrassing behavior that I wished I could forget.
But if I wanted to be well, I needed to address my insecurities, and not knowing
much about Hudson led to many of mine.
“Anyway, I
have you trapped in a car for over two hours—”

“Are
you sure I don’t have you trapped?”

“You’re
driving. I’m providing the entertainment.” Though, I found his uncharacteristic
playfulness extremely entertaining as well.

“I like
the sound of that.” He grinned, sneaking a look at my bare legs.

I
resisted the urge to tug at my black skort, one of my prizes from shopping at
Mirabelle’s. I enjoyed that he liked looking at me, but his gaze turned me on
to the
n
th degree and I wanted to keep focused. “Stop interrupting. We
are playing a get-to-know-each-other game.” I put my hand up as if to shush
him. “Don’t even say whatever it is you’re about to say. If we have any hope of
fooling your family when we’re with them twenty-four/seven then we need to know
more about each other.”

“I
already know plenty about you.” This time his gaze went to the bosom of my
super tight tee.

“No,
you don’t.” I snapped my fingers by my face to get his attention to move
upward. “Have you ever gotten to know a woman—nonsexually? Besides from a
background check?”

“Not on
purpose.”

His
answer was quick and honest. And it pissed me off. “Hudson, you’re kind of an
asshole.”

“So
I’ve been told.” He met my glowering eyes. “Fine. How do we play this game of
yours?”

The
triumph wiped out my irritation. “We’ll take turns. On your turn you can either
ask a question or tell a fact about yourself. Your choice. Nothing too heavy.
Basic stuff. I’ll go first. I don’t like mushrooms.”

His
eyes widened. “You don’t like mushrooms? What is wrong with you?”

“They’re
gross. They taste like rotten olives.”

“They
taste nothing like olives.”

“They
taste like rotten olives. I can’t stand them.” I made a face to show my
disgust, but inside I was ecstatic that he was taking an interest in what I had
shared. I hadn’t been sure he would. Especially with such a benign subject as
food tastes.

Hudson
shook his head, seemingly bewildered by my confession. “That’s a terrible
inconvenience. That has to hinder your fine dining experiences.”

“Tell
me about it.” For some reason, mushrooms seemed to be in a great deal of fancy
recipes. “Imagine my horror when my senior prom date made dinner for me and it
was chicken Marsala.”

His eye
twitched, almost unnoticeably. “Your senior prom date? Was this a serious
relationship?” His voice had also tensed slightly.

I
narrowed my eyes. Was he jealous? “Are you asking that question for your turn?”

“Uh,
yes, I suppose I am.”

He
was
jealous. Of a high school prom date. I was flattered. “It was a serious
relationship for me. Not for Joe.”

“Joe
sounds terrible.” But his smile returned.

“Thank
you. He was.” Hudson pulled onto the Interstate, and I put my sunglasses in my
purse. “My turn.” I sat back, chewing my lip. I’d eased us into the game, but
now I wanted some answers. Something good. “Why do you never call people by
their nicknames?”

He
groaned. “Because nicknames are so gaudy. Call a person by their given name.
That’s why they have it.”

I
rolled my eyes. He was so formal. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I even liked the guy.
That was part of the reason I had wanted to play this game. I had to know if my
attraction went beyond the physical.

And I
really wanted him to call me by my nickname. “But nicknames show a degree of
familiarity.”

“You
tell everyone to call you Laynie. Even people you’ve just met.”

Because
answering to Alayna was weird. The only people who had really called me Alayna
were my parents. “Maybe I feel familiar with everyone I meet.” I made an effort
to say my next words casually, as if the fact didn’t really bother me. “And you
call Celia by a nickname.”

“Really?”
He knew it bothered me. I hadn’t covered well enough. “She’s the only person on
earth, Alayna. I’ve known her my whole life. I didn’t even know her name was
really Celia until I was almost ten.”

I
crossed my legs, pleased when he glanced as I did so, and swung my foot with
irritation. “If you are trying to convince people you care more about me than
Celia, then you should have a nickname for me. It will establish endearment.”
And I really wanted his endearment.

“Calling
me ‘H’ shows endearment?”

My
phone vibrated in my pocket. I lifted my hips so I could pull it out, and
Hudson eyed me as I did so. “It does. I don’t go for the real lovey-dovey words
like sweetie and honey. But Hudson is way too formal.”

“I like
formal.”

“I like
cherry-flavored blow pops. It doesn’t make them appropriate for every
situation.”

“Blow
pops?”

“Yeah…blow
pops.” I planned to respond with a sexy comeback, but was distracted by reading
the text on my phone. It was from Brian asking me to call him. I’d ignored all
of the texts he’d sent over the last week, and wasn’t about to start answering
now. I threw my phone into my lap, frustrated. He didn’t know I’d found a
solution to my money issues and still expected me to give in to his terms. Not
happening.

“You
didn’t like ‘baby’?” Hudson’s question pulled me back to the car.

My
answer held the tension I meant for Brian. “Not so much.” Only because it was
unoriginal and insincere. It wasn’t a name Hudson had picked specifically for
me.

“I’m
sticking with Alayna.”

I
turned to him and glared. “Come on. You could call me ‘precious’ every now and
then in front of other people.”

“No
way,” he murmured.

“Why?
You call me that sometimes already.”

His
voice rumbled low and quiet and serious. “That’s private.”

I
shivered. Even if his tone hadn’t indicated the matter was settled, I would
have dropped it. His answer was perfect—sensual and even a little romantic. Not
like I was getting my hopes up romantic, just sort of sweet.

Hmm
. Hudson never failed to surprise me. I shook my head.
“It’s your turn.”

My
phone buzzed again. Another text from Brian. This time saying he was coming to
see me first thing the next day. And I wouldn’t be there. Guess the laugh was
on him. I grinned as I turned off my phone and stuffed it back into my pocket.

When my
focus returned to Hudson, he was eyeing me, his brow cocked. “Who keeps texting
you?”

Something
about his jealousy made me want to purr. “Is that your question?”

“It
is.”

I
considered making something up, something that would really provoke envy from
the man, but the game was meant to be about honest answers. “My brother. He’s
an asshole.”

“Like
I’m an asshole?” he asked, recalling what I’d said to him minutes before.

“Worse.
He’s an asshole who doesn’t know it.”

Hudson
grinned. “And you’re ignoring Brian?”

He knew
Brian’s name. It made me realize that he already knew I had a brother. I
wondered what else Hudson knew about Brian. And my parents. My whole life.

Well, if
he wanted to know anything more about Brian he’d have to wait until his turn.
“You already asked your question. It’s my turn. I lost my virginity when I was
sixteen.”

I meant
it to be a shocker, still irritated about Brian’s constant texts and Hudson’s
knowledge of things he shouldn’t know about me until I told him. “Sixteen?
Fuck, Alayna. I don’t think I want to know that.”

“Sorry.”
I smiled.

He
shook his head, his eyes narrow. “I seriously doubt this is going to come up in
conversation with my family.”

“You
never know.” 

“Who
was the guy?”

His
jealousy was seriously hot. “Is that your turn?”

“No.”

I
cocked my head, questioning his sincerity.

He
changed his mind. He couldn’t help himself. “Yes.”

I
didn’t even try to hide my elation. “He was a random guy I met at a party. I
thought that having sex would help me forget that my parents had died. It did
not.”

“No, I
suppose it wouldn’t.”

He
sounded sympathetic and I was glad he didn’t press. It had been an awful time
in my life. My parents’ fatal car accident had pushed me to behave in ways I
wasn’t proud. Random sex, excessive drinking, drug experimentation. And then
the addiction that had stuck—obsessive love, which shouldn’t be called love at
all, but rather obsessive wanna-be-loved. If I was really with Hudson, I mean
really his girlfriend, then he should know all the details, and I liked to
think I’d tell him. But for a strange moment I was exceptionally glad that I
wasn’t really with Hudson so I wouldn’t have to tell him.