30. Kavi
KAVI
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to look at another cherry again?” I grimace at the now-empty bowl on Hudson’s nightstand. “I’m pretty sure they’re repulsive to me now.”
Hudson’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh under my bare arm. He wraps his arm around my back and pulls me tighter to him. “I’m pretty sure you single-handedly increased that farm’s cherry sales today.”
I groan, my stomach queasy from the excessive cherry consumption earlier. I swear, I never want to even think about a cherry again, but I nuzzle into his deliciously bare tattooed chest, feeling content from head to toe.
Hudson returned from his meeting with our RCS clients in Portland last night and wasted no time declaring that we’d be going cherry picking in the morning. Apparently, he’d remembered how much I liked it based on a story I’d told him about my collection of earrings and how they were mostly acquired during fruit picking outings.
The man’s ability to file away details and turn them into the sweetest gestures never ceases to amaze me.
So, after waking me up at the crack of dawn this morning, he dragged me to a farm an hour away, where we spent the morning plucking the last of their cherries, giggling and talking as we strolled down each row.
I especially giggled when one of the farm workers stepped out from a canopy of trees unexpectedly, making Hudson yelp in surprise. After apologizing to the worker—who seemed just as startled by Hudson’s scream—we continued on, trying to regain our composure. But at some point my suppressed laughter got the best of me, and I doubled over, holding my stomach in a fit of giggles, mimicking Hudson’s yelp. His unamused look didn’t help the tears that were streaming down my face.
God, I’m going to miss him.
My chest squeezes at the thought, and I shove it away every time it surfaces.
In just two weeks, I’ll be moving to Portland.
We’ve skirted around the topic of our future, tiptoeing past the elephant in the room as if it weren’t there. He’s walked by my desk in the office when I’ve clearly been on the phone with my new leasing office or employer. He’s also caught glimpses of the two boxes in my room marked for Portland.
But he hasn’t said a word about it.
Nor has he said a word about the fact that I am going to be leaving both his company and his home in the matter of days. I’ll be hundreds of miles from him, and I can’t tell if that fazes him at all.
A part of me wants to broach the subject head-on, but this crushing fear holds me back—fear of his response, fear of his rejection. Fear of finding out that we’ve been on different pages this entire time.
Sure, he told me at Madison’s wedding that he couldn’t shake me, that he wanted more with me, and that he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else with me.
Sure, he’s gone out of his way to make me feel special and seen—introducing me to his beloved horse, taking me cherry picking, and even holding me while I turned into a mess of tears opening up to him about Nathan.
But nowhere in any of those moments, or the moments he’s spent over and inside me, has he brought up our future together.
If he has plans for us, I’d love to be clued in on what they are. I know enough to know that he’s never been in a long-distance relationship. And though neither have I, I am a thousand percent committed to trying.
The question is . . . is he?
When he said he wanted more, did he just mean for the summer? Did he always have an end date in mind?
Hudson’s hand brushes over the back of my arm, and I bury my nagging doubts, clinging to the hope that, in due time, we’d confront the inevitable together. After all, it’s not like we’d just say, “It’s been good, thanks for the mind-blowing sex,” on T-0 days with a two-finger salute and be on our merry way.
Could we?
“I have something for you.”
His husky voice makes my toes curl, even though I’d just been thoroughly fucked not even ten minutes ago. I swear my body is a twenty-four-hour diner when it comes to him. Apparently, it believes he’s allowed to come inside anytime. Pun intended.
I tilt my head to gaze up at him curiously. “What?”
He shifts to open the drawer of his nightstand, finding a little box and handing it to me.
Sitting up in bed, I inspect the box in my hand with a surprised look, noting the way his eyes blaze as they drag down my bare body.
My mouth drops open when I peek inside. “Hudson . . .” I swipe my tongue over my lips as if I’m parched. “Wh-when did you—”
“This morning.” He watches my expression intently. “You like them?”
“I . . .” I’m still scrambling for words as the prick of tears meet the corners of my eyes. I inspect the delicate cherries with golden stems hanging off shiny studs with the tip of my finger. “They didn’t have a gift shop. Where did you find them?”
He steeples his fingers over his broad chest. “I had them made.”
My eyes freeze on him. He did what?
“You had them made? Are these . . . are these real?” I indicate what looks like diamond studs.
He chuckles. “Yes, baby girl, they’re real. Now tell me, do you like them?”
My brows twist together. “Hudson, I love them. How did you—”
“I knew I was taking you cherry picking before the season was over, and you’d said you always purchased earrings at the gift shops when you were younger so you’d remember the day.” He shrugs as if he’s not causing my heart to expand tenfold inside my chest. “So I ordered them a while ago. Wanted you to remember today when you looked at them.”
Somewhere inside my chest, my heart sings, telling me what I want to hear—perhaps speaking on his behalf. That a gesture like this isn’t something you’d do for a woman you had no long-term plans with.
And somewhere in my head I decide I like what my heart’s singing about, and maybe I accept that as the truth, too.
“Somehow, they got delivered this morning,” he continues. “That was all coincidence, though; I couldn’t have planned that better if—”
I don’t let him finish before I lunge at him.
Placing the earrings on the nightstand, I press my mouth to his before I straddle his waist.
His thoughtfulness, his ability to make the most special moments even more memorable, and the colossal heart he keeps hidden under that gruff exterior has tears ripping from my eyes as our lips fuse.
Destined without a destination.
Chaos and harmony.
Tender and raw.
No matter where I go, no matter the distance or time between us, this man who I love with every ounce of me will forever be etched on my soul.
My fingers bury inside his hair as I taste the cherries on his lips. I might have said I never wanted to think of another cherry again, but that was before I’d tasted them on him.
Shimmying my body sensually over his broad and heavy one, I feel him harden under me again.
My tongue demands entrance into his mouth and Hudson obliges, his hands cupping my bare ass as he glides my core over his erection, groaning.
His scruff tickles and scrapes the skin around my lips as I angle my face to let him explore deeper, dragging my tongue against his and moaning into his mouth. I kiss him until I’m breathless before I rip my mouth away and trail it down his jaw. I pepper it with kisses before licking and sucking his neck.
“Do you know how sexy you are?” I breathe, running my mouth over his chest. “Sexy and sweet and perfect.”
I can hear the way his heart gallops as his skin heats under my touch. “I’ve been told a time or two that I’m pretty damn sexy,” he muses, and I know it’s to make me laugh. “Pretty sure the word perfect has been used a few times, too.”
I giggle as expected, biting his shoulder. “Yeah, you like women drooling over you, don’t you? Wanting a piece of Hudson Case.”
The words taste like acid on my tongue, the thought of him with someone else making my chest heavy. I’ll be gone in two weeks, and he’ll be free to be with whoever he pleases—and there’s no denying he could get whoever he pleased.
Hudson pinches my chin, hearing the edge in my voice. Bringing my eyes to meet his thunderous blue ones, he holds me in place even as I try to avert his gaze. “The only woman I give two shits about drooling over me is you, Kav. Just you. Only you. And as for having a piece of me? You should know, you’ve written your name on all my pieces.”
My heart sings again, reiterating that my doubts about the future are just those, baseless doubts. That, even though we haven’t explicitly spoken about us after this summer, of course Hudson has plans for us. This is Hudson Case we’re talking about, isn’t it? When has the man done anything without a plan?
I kiss him because I can’t turn into a sobbing mess again, and Hudson seems to understand my need to take the lead today.
Keeping his hands loose around my hips, he watches me grind down on him. His nostrils flare at the way my slick center slides over his velvety skin, and I press my hands on his chest, rising over him.
Hovering, I wrap my hand around his massive cock, stroking it the way I’ve seen him do. Satisfaction courses through me when his jaw locks and his eyes hood at the sensation.
To say I love seeing this powerful man surrender control to me—becoming putty under my touch—is an understatement. I feel like a sorceress, commanding oceanic waves and summoning a storm with a mere flick of my wrist.
I’m spellbound in his adoring gaze and bewitched by his touch. This man, who I thought was nothing but a calloused grump, turned out to be so much more.
Running his tip through my center, I drag it to my entrance before pressing myself down on it. My pussy expands almost painfully as I slip down his shaft, creating a hot seal around him, until he’s fully seated inside me. We both moan at the overwhelming sensation of connection as our bodies take over.
“Touch me,” I demand breathily, wiggling my ass over him. I’m wet and ready, begging for him to create the type of friction inside me that has the potential of making me pass out. “Please, Hudson, touch me.”
His large palm kneads my breast before another slides down to my center. His thumb rolls my hardened nub as he regards my face with utmost attention, watching my mouth drop open and my eyes threaten to roll back. With every give and take, he leaves another trace of himself inside me—something I’ll never be able to extract.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he gasps, continuing to rub my clit. “So perfect.”
I throw back my head, using my knees to guide me up before slamming back down on him. I grasp his shoulders and slide my pussy up his shaft again before taking him back into my body. Over and over. My juices drip down his cock while the slapping of our bodies and the echoes of our grunts fill the space around us.
Hudson meets me thrust for thrust, sheathing himself inside me. His hair is tousled deliciously, every muscle flexing on his chest as he keeps his eyes pinned to mine, pistoning into my body relentlessly from below.
My thighs start to quake as my walls flutter around his shaft. A flush rises over my skin and settles in my cheeks.
“Fuck, just like that, baby girl.”
My chest heaves and my movements become sloppy, my body tiring, but Hudson continues to urge me on, clasping my hip as he drives into me. “That’s it. Keep going. Don’t you fucking slow down on me.”
“Slow down?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to nip his lip. The tips of my damp hair brush his bare chest. “I’m not the old geezer in this relationship. You sure you can handle this?”
Forfeiting a response—or maybe it’s how he intends to answer—Hudson takes the opportunity to grab a fistful of my ass. Gripping the back of my neck, he slams into me from below, over and over, until my stomach contracts and I can barely breathe.
His cock hits me exactly in the right places and elation and frenzy duel inside me. My fingers tug at his hair and I scream as he holds me steady, pummeling into me. His hips pound against mine, dragging his cock through my walls relentlessly, and before long, I’m hurtling toward the finish line.
My body shudders and shockwaves of euphoria pull me under while lighting me up. “Hudson! I’m-I’m going to . . . Oh, God, yes! Hudson, yes!”
I come with a start, squeezing his cock, before I feel the heat of his release fill me, like the crescendo to the most melodious symphony. I collapse over him and he murmurs praises into my ear, telling me what a “good fucking girl” I am and how much he wants me.
And, Jesus, how much I like hearing him say those things.
I might not have the reciprocation of the words I said to him when I told him I was in love with him, but I’m not ready to lose hope yet, either. Not when every touch from him says so much more than his words ever could.
Because if every look and every touch doesn’t give me a glimpse of his soul, then perhaps I’ve had my eyes shut this entire time.
We’re a mess of arms and legs tangled around each other as little tremors wrack through our bodies and we gather our breaths.
“I love the sounds you make when you’re riding my cock,” he says hoarsely against the shell of my ear. “So fucking sexy.”
“Thank you for letting me ride,” I say with my lips pressed to his skin. I’m so spent, I can barely move.
“You’re welcome back on anytime.”
I chuckle against him.
Grasping him tighter with my palms sweaty over his slick skin, I lift my head to meld our lips once more. They tangle languidly, without any of the frenzy and madness we seem to gravitate to in our lovemaking, before I rest my head on his chest once again, listening to the drum of his heartbeat.
Feeling the type of peace that people look for all their lives but never find.
Hudson lays a kiss on my sweaty temple before slipping out from under me. He leaves me on his bed while I’m still seeing stars on the outskirts of my vision, beyond sated.
A minute later, he’s back with a wet rag. Without a word, he opens up my thighs and drags the warm towel over my center carefully, as if he’s doing the world’s most important work.
Once he’s discarded the towel in his hamper, he strolls toward me, letting me shamelessly admire the way his powerful thighs coil and flex with each step he takes. Before he can get into bed, I grab the box I put on the nightstand and hand it to him.
“Put them on me,” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he gently releases one earring from the box. Leaning over me, he gently threads it through my earlobe before doing the same with the other. I take the moment to pepper a kiss or two over that scruffy jaw I love so much.
I lift a curious brow when he’s finished, brushing the tip of my finger against the dangly earring. “Well? How do I look?”
His eyes roam over me. “Like the sweetest thing I’ll ever have on my lips.”
But like the season of cherries, I should have known nothing lasts forever.
Sometimes it even ends abruptly with an unforeseen wintry frost.