Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

10. Hudson

HUDSON

“Lavender and pine.”

Her answer seems to fascinate him, as if she just told him her favorite scent was unicorn breath or diamond-covered marshmallows. His eyebrows rise with a smile. “Ah, a combination of soft and rugged, indoors and out. I suppose I’ll have to find a similar scent to put on the next time we meet.”

My eyes harden on Silas’s son across the table, my hand white-knuckling my fork, but he doesn’t notice, given he’s turned almost ninety-degrees in her direction, as if she’s the only one in this room.

Corbin runs the financial arm for Rose City Skyport and showed up alongside his dad as a surprise guest for dinner tonight. And though I didn’t mind his presence at first, that had changed rather quickly.

Over the course of one hour, the fucker has done nothing but derail our productive dinner meeting, directing question after irrelevant question at Kavi. Her favorite cuisine—Indian. Her favorite season—summer. Her favorite color—orange. Yeah, surprise, surprise. The asshole’s made it his mission to flirt to the point of exhaustion. Mine, not his.

And though I have half a mind to pick him up by his collar—deal be damned—and throw him across the room, I can’t get a fucking read on if she likes his attention.

He wouldn’t be a bad choice for her if she did. He’s clearly closer to her age, doing well financially, and I suppose, if I was put at gunpoint to admit it, he doesn’t look like a troll. He’s also made it his mission in life, or at least during this dinner, to make her laugh.

A laugh I hadn’t heard until today. A laugh that transforms her features so her eyes crinkle right along with her button nose, and her mouth stretches into a perfect half-moon across her face. A laugh that would put anyone watching her in a good mood without even having the context of what was funny.

Anyone but me.

Because the more she laughs, the more I want to murder the guy next to her. The more I realize her smile—those luminous honey eyes and white teeth—aren’t aimed at me, the more I want to pound on this table and demand she stop.

The more she laughs, the more I want to carry her over my shoulder and leave this damn restaurant.

Her eyes glimmer in my direction, dipping to catch the tightness in my jaw and shoulders.

I drag my eyes from her and once again try to bring the conversation back to business with Silas. “So, are we settled on the date? I know we provided the results of the ecosystem assessment around the potential site, along with our solutions for noise and wildlife management, but if you’re at all concerned with anything else—”

“No, I think we’re all set. Your team gave us a very comprehensive report, and we’re confident Case Geo is the right partner for us.” Silas swirls the wine in his glass before addressing Kavi, “Though it would be nice to have consistency on your team. I know we only have you for the next three months, Kavi. What are your plans after that?”

A frown tugs on Corbin’s lips as he waits for Kavi to speak. Is he already upset by the prospect of her last day? He only just met her. What a douche.

“I’m actually moving to Portland. I have a full-time position as an art therapist at the children’s hospital here.”

Silas’s brows raise, much like his son’s. “Art therapy, huh? You’ll have to excuse my ignorance, but what does an art therapist do?”

Kavi smiles in response, her gaze shifting from her hands on her lap to Silas, revealing a hint of the nervous woman from our first meeting. She’s still there, under the surface, but so is a bolder, more fearless woman—someone I’ve seen myself.

“Well, not all art therapists have the same approach, but in general, we help people overcome psychological and emotional challenges through artistic expression. Personally, I like working with children, especially those struggling with low self-esteem because of situations in school or at home.” She pauses, running her fingertip down the condensation on her glass. “I help kids who may have been abused or bullied channel their emotions onto a canvas.”

“That’s fascinating, Kavi,” Corbin says, his mouth slightly agape. “God, it makes me feel like what I do, running numbers all day and making sure we hit financial targets, seem so inconsequential.” His gaze slices across the table at his dad. “No offense, Dad.”

Silas shrugs. “None taken. I tend to agree.”

Kavi’s eyes linger on mine before she drops her gaze, her cheeks hinting at color. Her hand fidgets, tucking a strand of hair unnecessarily behind her ear, bringing my attention to the red strawberry hanging there.

She’s wearing a peach-colored chiffon sleeveless top with spaghetti straps that dips to the start of her cleavage. And with nothing adorned over her neck, besides a hint of some sort of shimmering powder, all I can see—all anyone can fucking see—is miles upon miles of flawless skin.

Maybe I shouldn’t have given her my damn card to go shopping.

“So, you’ll be moving here?” Corbin’s excitement is hardly masked. “Do you know where you’ll live?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. I’ve been searching for places online, though.”

Corbin’s smile becomes more hopeful. “Well, if you’re here after the meeting tomorrow morning, I don’t mind showing you around Portland.”

“She’s not,” I blurt before Kavi can respond, turning all heads to me. I don’t miss the question in Kavi’s eyes, knowing we don’t have plans to leave until early evening. “I’ll have her tied up with some things to ensure the project starts on time.”

I take the final sip of my scotch, waving down the waiter for the check. A mix of frustration and confusion tightens inside my ribs like I’m breathing in noxious gas.

I don’t drink often or much. On occasion, I’ll have a glass of wine or my favorite champagne, but I needed something stronger to get through this dinner.

And though I’m not proud of it, I’ve already exceeded my limit, including Silas and Corbin’s requested celebratory shot commemorating our professional relationship. Kavi didn’t partake in that, I noticed, sticking to the same glass of wine all evening.

I’m just signing the check, ready to head to our hotel, when Corbin’s words have my pen halting.

He leans in, centimeters from Kavi’s cheek, but my ears catch every word. “Care for another drink? There’s a bar next door, a popular Portland hangout.”

My pulse quickens.

Does this guy not see how unprofessional this is?

“Actually,” Kavi’s tongue glides over her bottom lip, “I’m a bit tired tonight. Perhaps another time?”

“Oh, come on!” Silas interjects, elbowing me, as if to pull me into convincing her. “It’s just one more drink. God knows I rarely go out. Let’s make the most of it.”

Corbin’s disappointment with his father inviting the two of us flickers in his eyes, but my attention is centered on Kavi. I can’t decipher if she’s really tired, or if she’s refusing because I wanted to call it a night.

“Kavi?” Her name rolls off my lips, forcing her eyes on me. “Are you okay with one more drink? It’s perfectly okay to say no.”

Her hesitant gaze assesses us before she nods. “Sure, that’s fine.” She smiles at Corbin, forcing me to look away as an unexplainable pang rattles my insides.

So, I guess that answers my question. She is interested.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing next to Silas, feigning interest in our conversation, even though my gaze is fixed on my admin, chatting away at the bar with Corbin.

Country Western music blares from the speakers as chatter fills every nook and cranny of the small rustic tavern. The scent of aged wood and cigars envelop my senses, mixing with the smoky sweet aroma from the whiskey in my hand.

I really shouldn’t be drinking any more, but this whiskey is the only thing dousing the molten fire running through my veins.

Corbin takes a sip of his drink, offering it to Kavi, who’s holding a glass of Sprite. She shakes her head, and he relents, but not before tugging a stray wisp of her dark hair from her lips and tucking it behind her ear.

My molars threaten to crack.

He has no business fucking touching her.

Regardless of the fact that I can’t hear them, every laugh, every word between them rings in my ears like a cacophony. Every muscle in my back strains, the skin over my knuckles stretching dangerously as I do what I can to temper my nerves and my breathing.

What. The. Fuck? What is this feeling, and who is this unwelcome guest inside me, blurring my vision and creating a buzz inside my head?

It’s not the alcohol I’ve consumed all night—I know that for a fact. It’s something else entirely.

Excusing myself with a quick nod to Silas, I throw back the rest of my drink and head to the bar to ask for another.

I’m not drunk.I’m merely slightly inebriated.

My eyelids flutter as the wind hits my face, the city passing by in a rush of twinkling lights and discordant sounds. I recall asking our driver to open the window, needing the cool breeze on my warm skin, silently thanking the sky for staying dry.

I turn my head to the left when the flash of ebony hair waves inside the car.

Kavi brushes her hands over her biceps, trying to eliminate the goosebumps that have erupted there, and I take in her attire once more.

“I like what you’re wearing,” I say, leaning in to examine her peach-colored top and her black skirt.

Black like her hair.

Black like the evening sky.

Black like the jealousy that suffocated me from the outside in tonight. Or is it the inside out?

Maybe it’s the upside down. That makes more sense.

She doesn’t respond, her eyes shifting back to look out the window.

“It’s . . . different,” I continue, a hiccup interrupting my thoughts. “Less eclectic and more . . . more chic.” When she continues her vow of silence, I wiggle out of my suit jacket. “But you know what, Kav?”

She finally turns to me, a peculiar look in her eyes. Something soft—the kind she doesn’t reserve for me—something familiar.

Familiar?Why would it be familiar when I’ve never seen it?

Is it because I called her Kav?

Fuck, I like her name. I really like her name and her face and the way she smells . . .

I really like . . .

I place my jacket over her shoulders without much finesse. I saw that going differently in my head. “What does your name mean?”

My eyes are unsteady, but they’re steadily focused on her lips. That fucking gem sparkling over them.

If I kissed her, would I feel it on my tongue?

I wouldn’t kiss her, though. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

For so many reasons . . .

I lift my fingers, counting each one out loud. “Madison.” Index finger is up and I’m waving it around in front of my face. “Employee.” Second finger joins the first. “Age gap.” Third finger comes up and I chuckle.

Brie reads these dirty romance books and was telling me her favorite was ‘age gap’. I never got a chance to ask her to clarify that. I mean, technically, unless you were born on the same day as your love interest, wasn’t there always some sort of age gap?

Love interest?

The fuck did that come from?

My pinky lifts, and I waggle all four fingers in front of her. “Roommate.”

Her brows pinch in confusion as she shrugs into my jacket, but not before running her nose over the collar.

I flash her my teeth. “Lavender and pine.”

A stunned widening of her burnished eyes meets mine, cheeks picking up a blush before she clears her throat and juts out the water bottle in her hand. “You should drink the rest of this.”

I run the tip of my finger over her orange fingernails, making her fingers flinch and the bottle crackle, before I take it from her. Chugging the entire thing and wiping a droplet from the corner of my lips with the back of my hand, I slouch against my seat.

My head swings her way. “Well, that was a successful meeting, don’t you think?”

Her gaze surveys me, questioning if I’m setting a trap. “It was. It seemed like Silas was pleased.”

I chuckle, the barbs of something thorny and bitter pressing against my ribs. “Ah, yes. Silas. His son seemed to be pleased, too. Wouldn’t you say?”

Lips pursing, she snaps her head back to look out the window, dismissing my probing.

“I’m just saying . . .” I lean in, my breath brushing the shell of her ear. “If I hadn’t secured the deal by dinner, you definitely helped clinch it at the bar.”

Her head jerks back toward me, my bitter insinuation landing the way I had expected. But she doesn’t expect my closeness, my face, lips, millimeters from hers. “Don’t be an asshole, Hudson.”

I’m distracted by her.

Her little gasps of breaths. Her smooth lips. Her lemony scent.

She swallows, trying to scoot further into her side unsuccessfully, and I’m distracted by that, too. The soft bob of her throat, her tanned skin that looks satiny and sweet. The way her thighs fill out that skirt . . .

“I’m sorry.” I roll my head against the headrest with a frown. “I promise, I tried not to be one for as long as I could.”

She ogles me. “Oh, did you? I’m sure that was quite the feat for you. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

I shake my head, my vision shaking along with it. “No, but it is supposed to make you feel something.”

She huffs out a deprecating laugh, mumbling, “Unbelievable,” under her breath.

Our car stops in front of our hotel, but I don’t move, my fingers wrapping around her wrist when she starts to pull open her door. A silence hangs between us momentarily after she turns to meet my gaze.

I open and close my mouth, my attempts to articulate a single thought seeming futile. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you tonight,” I finally manage, the words feeling heavy over my lips, my chest.

My hand tightens slightly over her wrist like a plea . . . a need for her to understand.

She sighs, whether in frustration or relief, I can’t be sure, but if I had to guess, it would be the former. “You didn’t embarrass me, Hudson. You almost cost us the deal. A deal your entire company has worked hard for and deserves to win.” She shakes her hand. “How could you threaten Corbin like that?”

“Like what?” I say louder than I’d like, immediately regretting it when she flinches. “I told him he either takes his hands off your waist or we’d walk out, deal or not. He was fucking touching you!”

“Yes, and that was reckless of you,” she argues, shifting on the seat. “You can’t jeopardize something so huge for your company like that. You wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t drinking.”

I smile, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist as my eyes drop to her lips. “You sure about that?”

Her soft breath tickles my skin, chest rising and falling as her raspy whisper hangs in the space between us. “We should get you inside.”

I nod reluctantly, running my hands down my face, as she pulls away.

Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?

I wish I could say it’s just the alcohol or the stress over wanting to win this deal over the past few months, but I know I’d be lying to myself.

With some help from the driver, I amble out of the car, my feet not quite recalling what feet are supposed to do. Seeing me struggle, Kavi presses against my side, curling her arm around my waist, while quite literally holding me upright. And because I like the way she feels, and smells, and looks, I pull her closer, my arm wrapped around her shoulder.

We hobble inside, swaying as we do, before stepping into the elevator. At some point while she’s tracking the floors changing on the digital counter, I place my nose in her soft hair, unabashedly taking a whiff. “God, you smell so fucking goo—”

I don’t finish that sentence, incomprehensibly stumbling back against the wall behind me and taking her with me. Her soft chuckle hits my ears first, alerting the rest of my senses, and my hand clasps around her hip, pulling her ass over my erection. “Kav.”

She turns around in my arms, soft hands cupping my face, thumbs running over my scruff. “Hudson, listen to me. I’m going to take you to your room and get you into bed—”

“Now you’re talkin’.” My dick twitches inside my pants; though, I’ll be honest, I’m not one hundred percent sure he’s going to display his Olympic prowess tonight. You know, being slightly inebriated and all.

“We have to be at RCS’s office by eight-thirty tomorrow, which means only about five hours of sleep.” She locks her arm around my waist as soon as the elevator doors open, pulling me forward.

I stumble behind her, trying to stay quiet in the halls, when she tells me to shush.

Jesus. She tells me to shush like I’m a child and not a forty-six-year-old man. Since when did she get this spine and sass?

And fuck, I’m a forty-six-year-old man.

“Do you like age gap?”

Her nose wrinkles as she stalks toward my room. Coming to a stop in front of it, she waits for me to find my key, taking it from my fumbling fingers when I can’t steady it enough to open the door.

When the hell did I get this slightly inebriated?

Pushing the door open, she waits inside before I follow. I immediately shuffle over to the bed, falling on it face first. My eyelids feel like dead weights, dragging me down into the pits of a deep slumber.

Seconds later, she’s jostling my shoulder. “Hudson?” She tugs at my feet, removing my shoes, before she’s back at my shoulder. “Hudson? Can you drink this water? I had Tylenol in my purse. Take it so you don’t have a massive headache in the morning.”

I roll over, groaning as I drag myself onto my elbows. Taking a sip of the water she offers me, along with the meds, I fall back on the pillow, but not before grasping her hand as she’s pulling away.

She lets me tangle our fingers and I stare at her through hooded eyes. She’s fucking ravishing. “You’re too good for him, you know.”

God, if I was sober, I’d have slapped myself for even speaking—and I know I’ll want to go back in time tomorrow and slap myself when I remember this entire night.

She drags her teeth over her bottom lip, a smile pulling at the corners. “Corbin or you?”

My gaze crawls down the length of her body, still inside my suit jacket, but I don’t dare answer her question. “Do you like him?”

Her voice is as soft as the light near my bed. “Would it bother you if I did?”

Nope, not answering that, either. “What does your name mean?”

Likely because I’m giving her whiplash, she tries to untangle our fingers, but I tug her closer so her face hangs inches above mine again, her free hand landing on my chest.

Our eyes dance, our breaths intermingling inside the blaring silence.

“Kav.”

Her breath stutters, amber eyes flecked with gold and brown. They’re so fucking beautiful, especially in contrast against her brown skin. “A poem,” she whispers.

My hand cups the side of her face. “It’s perfect,” I mumble, lids dropping on their own accord. Words slipping on their own accord, too. “You’re perfect.”