Reclaim Me (18 page)

Allie’s first public appearance with her new husband was far from how she’d imagined. Not that she’d really ever given the idea much thought. Or even considered any future where she was Mrs. Hudson Chase, for that matter. Just as it had ten years ago, a life with Hudson had seemed like an unattainable fairy tale. At least it had until she’d turned around to find him on bended knee. In that moment she believed anything was possible. And when he slipped the diamond and platinum band on her finger and vowed to love her for the rest of his life, she knew she never wanted to spend another day without him. Which was why she’d found herself saddened by the fact that he wasn’t there to zip up her dress, why her heart sank as she rode without him in the limo, and why her fingernails dug into her palm as she’d watched him stroll into the Palmer House with Melanie McCormick on his arm.

Allie sipped a glass of champagne as she took in the sight of the ballroom, aglow with the flickering light from dozens of floral-wrapped candelabras. She smiled to herself. Harper and Colin had done a wonderful job with the event. Her eyes darted to where the two of them huddled with the auctioneer. Nick stood a few yards away, tugging on his bow tie and looking like he would rather be just about anywhere but a black tie event.

Not unlike his brother
.

Almost involuntarily she sought out the man she loved. He was standing by the bar, a squat tumbler of scotch in his hand and Melanie at his side. The conniving witch was all over him, although not in the obvious way Sophia would have been. While her agenda was the same, Melanie’s approach was more subtle. And if her string of marriages to powerful men was any indication, it was quite successful as well.

Hudson took a sip of the amber liquid, and as he did, his eyes met Allie’s. They narrowed almost imperceptibly and she could have sworn she saw a smug grin curve his lips just before he lowered the glass. She watched as he bent closer to Melanie’s ear, whispering something to her before making his way across the ballroom, weaving through linen-covered tables while cleverly avoiding unwanted conversations with a curt nod of his head.

Allie sipped her champagne, and for a moment her gaze shifted back to Melanie. Her frustration and disappointment were evident even from the other side of the room, and Allie had to fight the smile that tugged the corner of her mouth. But the satisfaction she took from the scowl on Melanie’s face cost her. By the time she turned her attention back to Hudson, he was gone.

“Excuse me,” she said, stepping out of the circle that had formed around her. She handed her empty champagne flute to a passing waiter and lifted the hem of her silver gown as she hurried in the direction Hudson had been heading. But when she pushed through the ballroom doors, he was nowhere in sight.

“Looking for someone?” Hudson was suddenly behind her. His voice was a seductive purr that under any other circumstance would have turned her into a puddle. But Allie held her ground.

“My husband. Have you seen him? Tall, dark, gorgeous, reveling in the attention of Chicago’s most notorious gold digger.” She turned and smirked at him. “Enjoying your evening with Melanie?”

Hudson frowned. “No, not particularly.” He grabbed her by the elbow and guided her toward the coat room.

“You could have fooled me,” she said as he pulled her past the velvet curtains. “Looked like—”

In one swift move he had her pressed against the wall, and then his mouth was on hers, silencing her with his untamed lust. Allie’s mouth fell open on a gasp and Hudson took full advantage, his tongue stroking hers with expert skill. On instinct her body went lax, surrendering to the moment, and when he finally broke the kiss she could hardly catch her breath.

He pulled back just enough to see her face. “As much as I enjoy you in this shade of green,” he said, his finger stroking her cheek, “you have no reason to be jealous.”

Her fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I hate watching her fawn all over you.”

With a roll of his hips he ground the thick ridge of his erection against her. “You are the only one who does this to me.” He took her mouth again, his taut body pinning her, and she moaned with a desperate need. She loved it when he was like this, so raw and untamed in his desire for her. It made her entire body come alive.

But they were only steps away from hundreds of guests. “We can’t be seen together,” she reminded him, though her voice lacked conviction.

Hudson loomed over her, his mouth just inches from hers. “Julian is expecting me to try to convince you to take me back.” His lips curved into a grin that was somehow both sinful and playful all at once. “Consider yourself being convinced.”

Allie returned his smile with one of her own. “In the coat room at a company party? Rather cliché, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Chase? One step up from nailing me on a copy machine at the office Christmas party.”

Hudson chuckled. “Not my style, but multiple copies of my wife’s ass are tempting. I simply thought you might need a reminder of—”

Now it was Allie’s turn to interrupt. “Then remind me already,” she said, her voice taking on a more serious, seductive tone. She knew she should stop, straighten his tie and smooth her dress and get back to the three hundred patrons mingling in the ballroom. But hearing Hudson call her his wife was like an incendiary device to her already overheated skin. All she could think about was how desperately she wanted him.

His eyes grew dark as he pressed a key card into her hand. “Meet me upstairs in five minutes. Room 2305.” With that he turned, parted the curtain, and was gone.

Allie waited several beats before stepping out into the corridor. In the distance the hum of quiet conversation mixed with the strains of a string quartet. They had twenty, maybe thirty minutes until dinner was served. Once that happened, their two empty chairs would no doubt raise suspicions. Anticipation thrummed in her veins as she quickly made her way to the elevator bank, glancing over her shoulder every so often to ensure no one saw her leaving the event.

Within minutes she was standing in front of the door to Hudson’s suite. She slid the card in the lock and stepped into the room. A sliver of moonlight streamed in through the partially drawn curtains, casting a cool glow across her skin, but other than that the room was engulfed in near-total darkness.

“Strip for me,” Hudson ordered from somewhere in the shadows. His voice held that hard authoritative edge that never failed to send a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. “I want to see what’s mine.”

Her mouth went dry as she reached for the zipper that ran the side of her gown. The fitted bodice was tightly ruched from breast to hip, but when she lowered the zipper it fell away easily, the silver fabric gently billowing to a puddle at her feet. Beneath the gown she wore nothing but a white lace thong.

In the distance she heard Hudson’s sharp intake of air. “Everything but the shoes,” he said.

Slowly she peeled the scrap of material down her thighs. Her breathing grew shallow as she stood waiting for his next command. Knowing he was watching her, his eyes raking over every inch of her bare skin, made her feel beautiful and sexy and wanton. In moments like these his hold on her went far beyond the physical. She was his, body and soul.

The stillness in the room seemed to stretch on for an eternity until the sound of a chair skidding across the marble floor finally broke the silence. Hudson was on her in a heartbeat, shoving his hands into her hair and tilting her head to the angle he wanted. His mouth covered hers, his skilled tongue invading, exploring, dominating. But instead of stating his claim on her, he offered the reverse.

“You own me,” he said. The roughly spoken words caused everything below her waist to tense with need. “Just because I’m not wearing my ring tonight doesn’t make it any less true.”

He stepped back and she heard the faint sound of a zipper. “I’m going to fuck you now for as long as it takes to remind you of that, and I don’t give a shit who notices we’re gone.”

Grasping the back of her thighs, Hudson lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

He took her mouth again, his tongue thrusting between her lips. Allie kissed him back, one hand fisted his shirt while the other tangled in his thick, wavy hair. The fact that she was naked while he was still fully dressed ratcheted her desire to an almost debilitating level, the rough fabric of his tuxedo brushing against her bare skin in testament to their unquenchable desire.

With a flex of his hips he pressed her against the wall, the head of his cock laying hard and hot at her entrance. Allie whimpered, her body moving of its own volition as she tried to get more of him inside her.

“Are you ready for me?” he said. His voice was low and hoarse. “Because I can’t wait any longer.”

“Yes,” she panted, needing the connection as much as he did. “Now, Hudson. Please.”

He surged forward, and in one lithe movement thrust inside her with the full force of his body. Allie’s head fell back against the wall on a loud moan. He pulled back, and with a shift of his hips pushed even deeper. “So good,” he growled.

Then he was fucking her, pounding into her with slick, relentless drives until all thoughts of the party below them left her. All that mattered was this man, this moment, and how perfectly they fit together.

“Oh, God.” Her breath caught on a particularly skillful stroke and her eyes closed, relishing the feel of him as a white-hot rush began to consume her.

“Look at me,” he ground out.

Her hazel eyes met his fiery blues. The intensity that burned in his gaze as he moved inside her was too much. Her fingers clutched the shoulders of his jacket as she spiraled into an orgasm that had her entire body quaking in his arms. Hudson drove to the hilt once more and stilled, emptying himself deep inside her.

“Forever, Allie.” He let his forehead rest against hers as he struggled to catch his breath. “Forever.”

*   *   *

Allie stepped off the elevator and right into the Irish Inquisition.

“For a minute there I thought you were going to skip dinner,” Harper said. “Can’t say I would blame you, really. If I saw the man I loved with that viper, I’d drag him off for a quickie, too.”

Allie tried her best to keep her face impassive. Harper was fishing. Maintaining an air of indifference was her only hope. “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked.

“There you are.” Colin rounded the corner as if on cue, and immediately began giving Harper the run down. “The entrees are being served, the manager found the extra case of Bollinger, and the band is ready to roll as soon as they begin serving dessert,” he said, ticking the items off on his fingers. “Do you want to go over the thank-you speech now?”

“Sure.” Harper’s gaze shifted to Allie. “Unless you or Hudson would rather say a few words?”

Allie smiled at her friend. For as much as the woman could talk, Harper was still so uncomfortable with public speaking. “You got this,” she told her as they made their way back to the entrance of the ballroom.

She waited until Colin and Harper had disappeared into the crowd before scanning the room for Hudson. He was seated at one of the round tables near the bandstand. Melanie had resumed her post at his side, chatting away about God knew what, but Hudson only had eyes for Allie. He kept his gaze locked on hers as the waiter poured a sample of cabernet into his glass. Allie stood transfixed, watching as he swirled the liquid in the glass before bringing it to his nose. Satisfied, he took a small sip, then his tongue darted out to lick his lips. The gesture was small, but the look in his eyes told her it was her taste he was imagining on his tongue.

A warm blush spread across Allie’s face and a small gasp escaped her lips. Needing a moment to gather her composure, Allie looked away. When she turned back, Julian was standing directly in front of her.

“Good evening, Alessandra.” A sneer curled his lips.

“Julian, what are you doing here?

“Dining on a meal that should have been served to inmates.”

“I mean . . . I thought,” she stammered. “Didn’t you say you were flying to Chicago on the first?”

“And yet here I am, a week early.” He smirked. “Have you forgotten who is in control? I set the timetable, Alessandra. It’s mine to adjust as I see fit. Now give me an update, and do try to keep it brief.”

“Haven’t your lackeys been keeping you apprised of my every move?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “It seems we have some training to do after the ceremony.” He stepped closer, and the cloying scent of his cologne invaded her senses. She could practically taste it. “You will speak to me with respect. Always.”

Bile rose in her throat and her heart rate accelerated. “I need to get back to the guests. If you’ll excuse me . . .” She stepped to the side but he caught her arm.

“Not so fast.”

“Don’t make a scene, Julian.”

He dropped his hand. “Then answer my directive. Have you presented the ultimatum?”

“Not yet.

He stiffened. “What the hell are you waiting for? He’s been following you around like you’re a bitch in heat, just as I knew he would. It’s time for you to . . . what is that expression you Americans love? Ah yes, lay your cards on the table. Do it, Alessandra.” Julian nodded toward Hudson and Melanie. “And I’d hurry if I were you, before he loses interest.” His eyes narrowed as he watched them. “I wonder how Melanie feels about conjugal visits?”

“I’ll invite him to dinner and lay everything out then.”

“Soon. I’m growing impatient, and you know the impulsive decisions I tend to make when I get this way.” His veiled threat was less than subtle. She was out of time.

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow night.”

He gave a tight nod. “See that you do.” His expression changed as his eyes roamed over her in a long, leering glance. “You’re flushed, Alessandra. If I didn’t know better I’d think you found my proximity arousing.” Julian raised his hand and she flinched. His eyes flared at her defensive move. The sick bastard was getting turned on. She hated herself for reacting almost as much as she hated the satisfied smirk that curved his lips. Of course he wouldn’t strike her, not with so many witnesses, especially not ones he deemed America’s “faux nobility.” No, Marquis Julian Laurent was far too concerned with his image to hit a woman in public. He was more the type to beat a woman in the privacy of her own home.