Chapter Fifteen
Hudson
“ H udson!”
Shock runs through me at the sight of Scarlett on my doorstep, the light from the door turning her hair into dark, shining honeyed fire.
I’m not sure why she sounds shocked. After all, I didn’t invite her. I didn’t even know she had my address.
“I live here.”
I’ve had drinks with my brothers so I’m feeling a little looser, and things are good.
“So you do. I wanted—” Scarlett stops. She blinks and whatever she’s going to say doesn’t see light of day because she pivots. I can almost see it happening.
Her gaze slides down over me in my jeans and shirt.
“Yes?”
She looks up at me, those hazel eyes like honey and just as sweet lock on mine. “You’re wearing jeans.”
“It’s been known. I don’t live in a suit.” Though sometimes it feels like it. I lean against the door and hook my thumbs in the back pockets of the jeans. “You’re still wearing your work clothes.”
“Yes, I am.”
I realize I could stay here, all night, just poking at her gently, getting reactions, seeing what she’ll say next. I also realize I could do a lot of things with her, if I let myself. “Was there a reason you rang my door? I’m not even asking how you got my address.” She doesn’t answer. “Or was it you just wanted to gaze at me?”
Color burns high and dark in her cheeks. “I am not.” Her eyes narrow. “Gazing at you.”
“You are, you know. Otherwise, it’d be rude.”
I might be slightly veering toward the tipsy side of things, but I’m in control. It’s just with her, control has a habit of slipping away at the best of times.
“So,” I say, “why’d you come here?”
“Oh. Oh! I figured we could go out.”
It’s a terrible idea. And I like it. For once, I could actually go for some fun and I already know Scarlett can be a hell of a lot of fun.
It’s not that I don’t have fun with my brothers—Ryder, anyway. But tonight wasn’t that. Tonight was business, this whole thing, right here with Scarlett and what it means to them. None of us have any idea. But it seems even Magnus is invested, for whatever darkly ruthless reasons he might have. Kingston, well, he’s a cynic, but he’s family and he’s intrigued on whatever level it is. Ryder would love a real piece of our family history and he wants me to succeed so he can see the mysterious Sinclair jewels, no matter how laid back about it he pretends to be.
And Ryder also pieced together some things, too. Which makes the whole Sinclair jewels thing more important than ever for me.
Why they were hidden and steeped in rumor and legend is anyone’s guess, since those who knew are all dead, but legacy is important. It’s part of being a Sinclair. Part of my identity.
Ryder’s on board with that. Magnus wants power and means, and Kingston, too, if it’s worth anything to him, money-wise.
That wasn’t the only reason we met up. Business is business after all and sometimes, since we’re all in the world of real estate in different ways, our interests cross. We also met for a catch up, too.
And I’ve had just that little too much to drink to make me decide dangerous fun, Scarlett-style, is the way to go.
“Okay.”
She blinks at me. “Okay?”
“Yes. Let’s have some fun. Things today went well and you actually somehow managed to make tomorrow’s load a lot easier. The rest of the week’s actually. Good job.” I stop. I don’t want to talk about work. Not right now. “So yeah, let’s have fun.”
After all, it’s not like I’m going to cross lines. Just perhaps dabble with them, push and nudge them. That is, if I feel like it. And she smells so unbelievably good.
“You want to have fun? I thought there was a law against it in Hudson Martini world.”
I grab my phone, wallet, and keys from the side table just inside the door, pull it shut and lock it, and then I gesture to the wide world of Manhattan that’s my doorstep. “No law. I’m not against fun, Scarlett. I just don’t have much time or use for it in my life.”
“That’s sad.”
Is it? I never missed it. But Scarlett has a way of getting into the blood and twisting things up. She’s a game changer. And to me it’s a revelation that her work clothes are chameleon, like her, something I’d never put together until now. She’s not flashy, but she could fit in most places. She’s got a mouth on her, but she’s able to work with all kinds of situations, from how she handled people at my event, to having the guts to stand up to me.
It’s there, she hides it, but it’s there.
And I don’t know why I’m thinking this at all, except it’s like I’m seeing her all at once for the first time and a layer melted away.
But right now, I don’t want to go there or put my head in the game. The light buzz in my veins ticks up when I grab her hand and lead her down to the street. I don’t want that to go.
“Well, maybe you can do something about it, Scarlett.”
She looks up at me and a smile breaks free. “Oh, no. That’s like a get out of jail free card. Why don’t you show me you can do something about it.”
“Okay,” I say, not letting go of her hand, “you’re on.”
The bar in Dumbo is popping, as they say, but it’s some place I know as I own property here, near the waterfront amongst the cobblestoned streets and high-end stores and everything that makes it so sought after. The up-close view of the Manhattan bridge isn’t bad, either.
“You’re into Brooklyn?” Scarlett asks, leaning in close to be heard over the noise in the glass and industrial steel vibe bar with plants and swathes of artistically deconstructed white paint on the walls.
I shrug and take a swallow of my Scotch. “I’m not against it.” I eye her again. It’s an easy thing to do as we lounge on the bench in the corner.
She’s good to be around, and that’s been the deal the whole time, not some new thing. The revelation is more me than her. Me not fighting it. I don’t like stepping into territory I haven’t studied and dissected and weighed up.
That’s what this whole thing is, my rash decision. Because for me it was rash. But if I let myself lean into it, then the natural attraction between us works.
It works in my favor, and I need it to work.
She fidgets with her drink. Gin this time, the purple stuff that changes to pink because of whatever flower is used. I don’t really keep up with the latest trends like Ryder. I like it simple and quality because that’s where depth and complexity and reward lie.
“So, about all this,” she says, not looking up.
I glance about, deliberately obtuse. “The bar? Or Brooklyn?”
Her sharp glance makes me smile. Most people would hide that irritation under careful layers because they know who I am. Not Scarlett. What seemed rough edged and gave me doubts is the breath of everything I need and refreshing. “No.”
“What about the contract?” A sliver of something cold and liquid runs down my spine. “You seem like you have something on your mind. Do you want out?”
“No, I…I was thinking, we should talk.”
I sigh. “Yeah, we probably should. I was just thinking, too.”
“You were?”
“I need this to work out, Scarlett. You know that. But I think seeing my brothers tonight brings that home.”
“You’re already rich,” she says softly, “are they worth that much?”
I take a long swallow of my drink. “I think I made the right decision in choosing you.” With a laugh, I shake my head. “And yeah, it was quick, but…you know, it’s not about money. It’s about family. History. It’s about legacy to me. They were important to the family right at the beginnings of everything. That’s important to me. And…”
I trail off. I’ve said more than I mean to. I’ve drunk more than I planned, and that buzz is still in my blood. But her face. She’s frozen, looking…I don’t know, like she just took all the cookies and ate them to hide them.
“Scarlett?”
“The thing is,” she says, “I need to tell you something.”
Fuck. I wait.
“I really like you and—”
I lean into her and kiss her softly. “Don’t. Don’t spoil anything by adding to that. Okay? You know where I stand. I like you, too. But that’s all it is. Like, attraction. Hormones.”
“Hudson…” She takes a breath. “I just wanted to say—”
“We should go dancing.”
She’s about to continue, but her mouth snaps shut. Then she downs her drink and says, “Do what now?”
“Dance?” Oh, yeah, I’m definitely feeling a little fine from the booze. And from her presence. “What were you going to say?”
“It can wait,” she says. “I want to see you dance. Is there an old fashioned, old timey place here?”
I know exactly what she’s hinting at and she’s pushing it, but I just nod, say yes and lead her out of the bar.
Scarlett can’t dance.
She’s got it in her, but no one taught her.
I pull her in and guide her through the dance, my mouth at her ear, the music thrumming its rich, evocative beat through our bones in the dark, packed club. “Let go, Scarlett,” I murmur, feeling her shiver in my arms as I move my hips against her, taking her with me in a sweet slide of a step that’s more like fucking than dancing. “Just let the beat take you. Let me lead you.”
Her fingers at my nape dig in and I like the bite. “When you said dancing, I thought you meant waltz.”
“That has an eroticism all its own, too, if you know what you’re doing.”
“We’re at a salsa club. Who are you and what have you done with Hudson?”
I laugh and her face burrows into my chest a moment.
“My mother made us all learn to be rounded. My father stated it was a waste of time but she was adamant, and she made us do it all. Hell, I think there was a stint in the boy scouts. But this…I don’t do it often.”
Make that almost never these days, but back in my college life, fuck yes.
“It’s not dancing.”
It wasn’t. This was definitely foreplay. It could be as good as sex and she was hot and soft and now looking at me with hungry eyes.
I want to say I’m drunk and that’s why I’m going to do what I’m planning. I want to find a place to park all the excuses.
I’m a little toasty, but in perfect control. I’m choosing not to be. Because she’s there and she’s what I want.
I slide my hand that’s on her hip down to her ass and bring her in flush against me.
She gasps a little, her fingers digging deeper and she moves against me.
“It’s seduction, Scarlett. Or a precursor.”
And I kiss her. It’s a slow dance of a kiss, highly erotic, and my cock gets harder as she kisses me back with all that she is.
Her mouth is soft, hot, and sweet, that wicked kind with bite, and her tongue definitely knows how to dance. It does so, slow and dirty, against mine. It’s the kind of kiss that is pure filth, filled with promises that can be delivered. The sweaty, orgasmic kind.
I pull back, a deliberate tease that has her seeking out my mouth and I kiss her again, the corner of her mouth and then down, along that slender column of throat, to her beating artery, and I suck it. She grinds in against me, the pulse in my mouth going wild and hard and then I let go, and bite, and lick and make my way back to her mouth where I take it hard, open, in an explicit dance of sex.
If I don’t stop, I’m going to come right here.
And right or wrong, I’m going to do it. I’m going to cross the line into the next level.
With her.
I lift my head. “Come home with me.”