Love Unlocked (21 page)

“I meant posing for me. Getting me back to work. I don’t want to jinx it, but I can feel things changing. I think I’m ready to work again. I can see myself focusing on people, on portraits, making a change from my old stuff.”

“Really? That’s fantastic!”

The enthusiasm in her voice calmed his insecure artist’s brain. “Do you think so?” Eve was an undisputed authority on art. Her opinion mattered to him.

“Hudson, you have so much left to share with the world. I’m honored that you drew me. I’d be thrilled if you wanted to paint me. I think I could get over the embarrassment of being naked for the entire world to see.”

He stopped her. “We’ll see, but I think I’d like to keep naked Eve all to myself. Let the world see your gorgeous face. That’s all they’ll be able to handle.”

She laughed and her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. He liked complimenting her to the point of embarrassment. She deserved nothing less.

“I think it’s a brilliant idea to start doing portraits. You’ll be magnificent at it. I can’t wait to see what you come out with. As long as you promise me you won’t do this with your other models.” She wiggled her ass against his cock, and kissed the side of his neck.

“Absolutely not,” he growled. “Since I’m the only one who sees you naked. Deal?”

“Deal.”

It wasn’t “I love you,” but he’d managed to get exclusivity into their arrangement. Progress.

***

Gray light at the edge of the curtains alerted Eve to the dawn. She’d never dreaded a morning quite the way she dreaded this one. She’d stayed awake after the third incredible round of sex. She could see in Hudson’s eyes that it had gone beyond sex for him, but for her to call it anything else would make it too difficult to leave. And leave she must.

If they were going to have any hope of a future together, if they were going to be able to take this seed of passion and nurture it into a fully grown relationship, then she had to make peace with the past that had been haunting her ever since she’d set foot back on American soil. Hell, if she were honest with herself, her past had been haunting every decision she’d made for the past decade.

She’d grown too fond of Hudson to continue with whatever this was and drag him into the mess that was her life even further. He’d only recently started painting again. He needed to focus on that right now. When she got her shit together, she’d come back and maybe they could try to make it work.

So she’d lain awake, reliving every moment of his body on hers, remembering the most powerful orgasms of her life, imprinting them on her memory so she’d have something to remind her that things could be good again. She lay there, feeling the rise and fall of Hudson’s chest as he slept like a rock next to her, allowing herself the comfort of feeling his strong forearm around her belly, of letting his chest be her pillow, of breathing in his spicy scent with every breath. She would have been content if that was the only thing she ever smelled again.

Eve did what she did best—made a plan. She’d leave Chelsea, go to San Francisco, and finally open the manila envelope that held the details of her father’s will, his legacy to her, the trust, everything. She’d find a way to forgive herself for her father’s death. If she could do that, then she would deserve whatever love Hudson could give her.

She was girding herself to extricate her body from Hudson’s embrace when he stirred next to her and his arms steeled, as if even in his sleep he wouldn’t let her go. She traced the knuckles on the back of his hand, marveling at how beautiful, how strong and sure they were, whether they were picking a lock, drawing a face, or touching her in the most intimate of ways.

Hudson was a beautiful person, inside and out. She’d sensed it when they first met, and every action he’d made since had shown her, bit by bit, what a fine man he was. He made her feel clean and whole.

He’d shown her so much generosity, brought her so much pleasure. Eve tried to imagine what he was getting in return. A solution to his artist’s block? A willing bedmate? She hoped that she’d been able to provide him pleasure in return. He’d certainly seemed aroused to the point of distraction. It had been incredibly erotic to see him lose control because of her, because of how much he wanted her. She’d met him with equal fervor, marveling at how in sync they were, how everything he did to her made her feel incredible and vice versa.

She didn’t have much experience but the kind of passion they’d shared was rare and often burned out quickly. He probably reacted that way to all of his models, then burned through them like a match on a day-old newspaper. She belatedly remembered that until recently, he’d been an abstract artist who hadn’t worked with models. The thought cheered her considerably. The idea of him unleashing that powerful physicality on any other woman made her heart ache.

Her exploration continued up his arm, across his powerful shoulder, up his neck, to the surge of his pulse. He was so vital, so alive and present, bright and warm, not like the men she’d known in Europe at all. He practically radiated sunlight; he’d grown strong on this California sun. He probably drank a gallon of milk a day when he was a boy.

As she continued to probe with her fingers, she started to feel another part of his anatomy waking up. His stamina was impressive. She should really go before he woke up. But her touch was on his lips, and before she knew it, his eyes were open and he was sucking on her index finger, while his erection pressed itself with intent against her hip. She let him tease her for a moment, but resisted when he moved to roll her to her back and cover his body with hers.

She pushed him back into the mattress, and knelt over him, taking his cock in her mouth in one motion before he could protest. He called her name weakly at first, then with more strength as she managed to fit more and more of him inside her.

Eve relished the slick hardness of him, feeling supremely female as she tasted him, teased him, brought him to the edge. She would have gladly kept sucking until he came again, but he wrenched himself free, and took her mouth in such a fierce, possessive kiss that she almost came herself. She could tell the signs by now, that he was close to losing his control again, and she ran a fingernail along the underside of his cock, stroking the velvety tip, to ensure that he did. With a growl, he flipped her onto her back, and plunged into her again. They both erupted with breathless cries at the same moment.

Eve was wrung out. She was only dimly aware of Hudson withdrawing, covering her with a sheet, nestling her against him once again. He was murmuring to her, something about supper at Honeydale Farm. She was too limp to respond, too tired to tell him that she wouldn’t be around for supper. She felt herself drifting into a sweet, sated sleep, as if from far away.

***

When she awoke, the sun was high in the sky and doing its best to seep around the edges of Hudson’s dark blue linen curtains. Curtains. Huh. They suited the room, with its dark wood furniture and spare lines, but they smacked of a woman’s touch. His mother? Eve doubted he’d let a girlfriend give him decorating advice. Perhaps he’d hired a professional.

With a start, she realized she had been daydreaming about curtains when she had a plan to put in motion. Sleeping in was not step one of that plan.

She was alone in the bed, alone and naked and sticky from head to toe after their sex marathon. Hudson would not begrudge her a shower, though she had a pang of guilt about continuing to impose on his hospitality when she had every intention of walking out of there today without saying goodbye.

Any feeling of guilt washed away in the extra large, modern shower with its glass doors and three strategically placed showerheads. If there had been coffee waiting for her downstairs when she carried her suitcase down with her, she might seriously have considered never leaving again.

The kitchen was empty. There was only one place Hudson could be. She set a note on the kitchen counter, and picked up the Lotus keys from the table. She hesitated for a moment, caught between walking outside and heading back for the studio. She promised herself she would see him again, in time. She could do this; she could leave without saying goodbye.

Shouldering the suitcase, she went for the front door. If she’d paused to peek into the studio, it would have been that much harder for her to leave.

Hudson rotated his neck from side to side, barely noticing the pops of the vertebrae as they snapped back into alignment. He squinted at the digital clock in the corner. After one p.m.? That couldn’t be right. He’d forgotten how completely zoned in on work he could be when he found his flow. Eve had done that for him, turned on a faucet of ideas and inspiration that he’d thought shut off for good.

He rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. This was how he repaid her, by abandoning her after the most incredible night of lovemaking he’d ever experienced, followed by the most incredible morning of lovemaking.

If he had anything to say about it, the most incredible afternoon of lovemaking was shortly to begin.

First, he carefully set the watercolor to finish drying on an easel. He shuffled through the sketches he’d made last night and this morning and set a few out on the table, to remind him of the direction he wanted to go in when he next picked it up. He studied the watercolor. Eve’s face stared back at him, her eyes vividly rendered, her mouth a lush paradise. Everything else was a vague impression, the slash of dark hair, the delicate pointed chin, the shell of her ear. He wanted to paint her in oils, but he needed to practice in a faster medium. It seemed like forever and like no time at all since he’d last spent a session hunched over the desk in his studio. He’d had to intentionally focus the motions of his hand at first, until they loosened up and started becoming an extension of his artist’s brain.

His mind, body, and spirit were whole for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t wait to share his breakthrough with the woman he loved.

He hoped she was taking a luxurious bath or, better yet, still asleep. Neither of them had slept much the night before, and he had serious plans for the rest of the day—plans that included the shower, the bed, and the shower again. However, a cup of coffee wouldn’t be remiss, even that God-awful emergency instant kind. He went to the kitchen, hoping Eve wouldn’t mind leftover pizza for lunch. If they were ambitious, they could go out for dinner, or maybe stay in and order Chinese. He was so high on art and sex that coffee and food battled for a distant third place in his hierarchy of needs.

He opened the cupboard and reached for the jar of coffee crystals, but his attention snagged on the note lying directly beneath on the counter. Hudson recognized Eve’s bold cursive in his name on the front. Something was very wrong.

***

Something was wrong. Eve had unthinkingly gotten out of the Lotus once she’d parked in front of her house. She was surprisingly happy to see it, experiencing a foreign sensation: the feeling of returning home.

She’d stopped to fill the car with gas on the way from Hudson’s. She didn’t think he would come after her, but she still only wanted to grab a few things and then head up north. She could be in San Francisco in three hours, return this silly car, and get her relatively practical sedan back. She’d already called to confirm reservations for Genevieve Walker at the Huntington Hotel.

But she hesitated, staring at her house. Everything looked fine in the midday sun. No alarms seemed to have been set off, all the doors and windows were closed. But again, she saw an unmistakable flash of movement in an upstairs window that was only partially covered by a curtain.

Someone was in her house.

She was parked in plain view outside. The intruder would know she was here. She saw no other vehicle, but there could have been one parked at the cul de sac around the next bend in the road.

Eve thought quickly. If the alarms had been activated, Will or the police would arrive eventually. If John or Deacon were inside, then having the police involved could get messy.

On the other hand, if she was a victim of a crime of opportunity, then the presence of Will or the police would be comforting.

The question was, would Deacon or John have even tripped the alarm?

She sat back down on the driver’s seat of her car and picked her cell phone up from the center console. She scrolled down to Will’s number and held her breath for four rings, about to give up when his voice came on the line.

“What can I do for you, Eve?” he said, sounding calm and strong, and enough like his brother to make her heart twinge a little. He also sounded a bit surprised. Which meant the alarm hadn’t been tripped.

“Um, hi Will. Yeah, I was wondering if...I wanted to let you know that I’ll be leaving town for a little while. So if you see the house dark, don’t worry.”

“A little while?” he asked.

“At least a week. I’ll let you know if it’s going to be longer than that.”

“All right.”

Eve resolved to go investigate when the front door opened a fraction. She heard Will as if from a distance. “…everything okay? Is Hudson giving you trouble, because if he is, I can kick his ass for you.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “No, everything’s fine,” she said as convincingly as she could. “Thanks for the offer. I have to go now. Thanks again, Will.” She ended the call.

While she’d sat in the car, the summer sun had rapidly heated the interior. She was sticky and sweaty, but she paused to gather her revolver and her keys. Even though it had to be in the low eighties, the outside air felt cool on her overheated skin. She should have been at the beach enjoying a stiff breeze and a paperback novel on this perfect, cloudless day instead of approaching her own home with a gun and a sick feeling of dread in her stomach.

Her silk blouse clung to the small of her back. She hovered on the threshold of the front door to remove her sunglasses and wipe her hands on her cotton shorts. Sweaty palms and handguns didn’t mix.