Chapter Thirty-Two Ella
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ella
“Let’s go, Whitland! Let’s go!” Our voices ring out, a chorus of overwrought cheers. We’re ringing in the new year at Caesars Superdome in the heart of New Orleans. It’s the largest venue I’ve ever cheered in, even grander than the Nissan Stadium.
We’re in a bustling city, one that’s alive with music and magic, but all I can think about is Hudson.
The game is in its final, tense moments. The Chargers’ defense is relentless, and Hudson’s facing an uphill battle. My eyes track him constantly. He’s giving it everything he’s got, weaving through the opposing team with a mix of determination and grit.
Harlen’s out there, too, running back with lightning speed, trying to break through the defense. Marcus and Cade, our linebackers, hold the line.
The team as a whole is fierce and unyielding. But despite their best efforts, the Chargers’ lead remains. Each time the score inches higher in their favor, the hope in our stands diminishes, replaced by a collective groan of despair.
With seconds left on the clock, Hudson launches a final, desperate Hail Mary pass. The ball arcs through the air, a perfect spiral, but it’s intercepted just before the end zone. The final whistle blows, and the reality of our loss sinks in.
Whitland’s done. The dream of a Sugar Bowl victory evaporates.
The field is a flurry of activity, players shaking hands, some dropping to their knees in defeat. I scan for Hudson, my heart clenching. I want to rush to him, to offer some sort of comfort, but I’m stuck here on the sidelines, my role demanding a cheerful facade despite the heartbreak.
Our squad gathers, forced smiles and encouraging words, but it’s all hollow. I can’t shake the worry. The truth is, I’m growing impossibly fond of that man. I think about him all the time in all the ways that I shouldn’t.
It’s not just about sex for me anymore—our heated chemistry and whispered nights—but we have rules. Rules that I made.
Yet all this time we’re spending together, the holidays I’ve enjoyed with his family, have forced me to confront what I’ve been lacking. The warmth of their home, the love they share, it’s something I’d never truly experienced before. Yet something I’ve come to adore.
It has me yearning for more than just these fleeting moments between us. It makes me want a place in his life, permanently. A place I wish was possible to keep.
We pile into the bus back to the hotel, and I can’t shake the feeling, so I text him.
Ella: I’m sorry the game went south. you were great out there. you always are
The message reads delivered , but there’s no response from him. Not that I expected one right away. I’m sure he’s still reeling from the loss, debriefing with his team. Trying to come to terms with the fact that this was the ending to his football career.
When we arrive at the hotel, the lobby is filled with a weird, subdued energy, players and cheerleaders milling around, trying to make sense of the defeat. I’m with Gabi and Sammy again, and as we head to the lift, I keep glancing at my phone.
No response. My worry twists into a knot.
The three of us take turns hopping in the shower, and once we’re done, I still haven’t heard from Hudson.
The lack of contact only feeds my growing anxiety.
If he’s down, I want to do something to make him feel better.
But still, I’m stuck between wanting to cross that line and holding strong to our agreement.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to the girls, having paced the short expanse of our hotel room for several minutes. “I need some air.”
Sammy looks up from her phone, sympathetic. “Want me to text Levi for you?”
“Would you?”
She nods and shoots off a quick text. I wait, the minutes stretching into what feels like hours, until her phone pings. “Levi says Hudson’s room is on the eighth floor, room 812. He said he’d make himself scarce if you want to go up.”
“Thanks, Sammy.” I move to squeeze her hand and then head for the door. But as I step into the hallway, I nearly collide with Hudson.
He’s standing directly in front of me, an exhausted look painted across his features. “I thought about luring you back to my room with food,” he says with a tired smile. “But I decided to try a more straightforward approach.”
“I was just coming up to see you,” I say.
His eyes soften. “Were you?”
“Yeah, I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your texts.”
He pulls out his phone, showing the dead screen. “Phone died.”
“Convenient,” I tease, but there’s no real bite to it.
“Can I come in?” he asks, glancing at the door behind me.
I look back at the room, Gabi and Sammy’s voices ringing through the thin walls. “Why don’t I go up to yours? The girls are in there.”
He nods, offering his hand, and we head to the lift. The ride up is quiet. When we reach his room, he opens the door and I step inside, the weight of the night’s loss pressing down on both of us.
“You okay?” Hudson asks once we’re both inside.
“I should be the one asking you that,” I say. “I’m not the one who just lost their last game.”
He drops onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “It still hasn’t sunk in, I guess. But, you know, I had a great run these last four seasons. We made it to the goddamn Sugar Bowl.” He gulps, his gaze swinging back to meet mine. “And, well, I’ve got you here with me. Don’t I?”
Being here with him, supporting him through this transition, makes me feel more connected to him than ever. It’s a comforting realization amid the uncertainty. Despite the murky waters of our relationship, right now I know we have each other. That’s more than enough.
I cross the room, placing my hands around both of his shoulders to straddle him. With my knees on either side of his thick thighs, I take a hand and run it through his hair, pushing it back. It’s still lightly damp from the shower he must have taken, and it rivals my own wet strands.
“Yeah, you’ve got me here.” I lean down, brushing my lips lightly against his, but not yet sealing the deal. “And I know you’ll go on to do incredible things.”
His eyelids flutter closed at my touch, gray irises disappearing behind thick, dark lashes. “Right now, the only incredible thing I can think of is being here with you.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb stroking the apple of it tenderly.
I drink in the sight of him. “Look at you,” I murmur, touching my forehead to his. “ The Hudson Fox going all soft on me.”
He chuckles, a low, warm sound that ripples through the silent room. “Only for you, Davies.”
My pulse pounds as I close the distance between us once more, pressing my lips to his in a sweet, searing kiss. His hands find purchase on my hips, pulling me impossibly close as we sink further into the hotel sheets.
“You know,” he murmurs against my lips, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the city lights seeping through the sheer curtains. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said before. About choosing things for yourself.”
I pull back, tucking a wayward lock behind my ear. “Is that so?”
His gaze drops from my face to where our hands are interlaced. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking … I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be in control of things. I know you have, too. So maybe we just … stop.”
“Let the cards fall?”
“Exactly.”
“But what does that really mean for you, for us?”
He squeezes my hand. “I have real feelings for you. Feelings I can’t ignore any longer. Seeing you happy makes me happy. Knowing you’re alone makes me want to be there for you. And if letting the cards fall means giving in to these feelings, then … I think we should. Don’t you?”
His confession hangs there between us. I stare into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability hiding behind layers of strength and control.
“Hudson,” I whisper. “I … I feel things for you, too. A lot of things. But I’m going back to Oxford this summer. This was always meant to be temporary.”
“So, let it be temporary. I know you’re leaving. I know there’s an expiration date tied to this, and I don’t care. We shouldn’t hold back because things will inevitably come to an end.”
He strokes my cheek gently, his touch as reverent as the words spilling from his lips. I can see in his eyes that he means every word. I want to believe him; I want to believe in us. To take a leap of faith when something inside tells me to keep holding back.
To protect myself from another heartbreak.
“But …” I start, suddenly feeling small under his intense gaze. The room is heavy with silence as I search for the right words. “But what happens after? What happens when this ends and we’re thousands of miles apart?”
“We let go.”
I scrunch my nose and tell him, “I’m not so great at that.”
He smiles. “You can do anything you set your mind to. Besides, this hasn’t been about just sex for a while now. It’s time we both stopped lying to ourselves, to each other.”
A few weeks ago, I would have scoffed at such an idea, thrown a sarcastic comment his way to deflect from the raw honesty he’s showing me. But now …
“You really think we can do this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I’m not scared of him or of us—but there’s a fear of what lies beyond the comfort of this moment. “What if I … fail? What if we fail? If we get in too deep and we can’t let go?”
Hudson lifts my chin with a finger, forcing me to look at him. “Then we fail together, and we’ll figure it out.” His voice is steady, reassuring. “We always do.”
A knot of warmth unravels inside my chest, spreading through my body and easing my fears. “Alright,” I murmur against his lips, pulling him closer. “Let the cards fall.”
And when he kisses me back, he puts his all into it—no hesitation, no uncertainty. Just soft lips and light caresses. The promise of something real and right, even if it’s temporary.
Our clothes come off, I help him roll on a condom, and then I’m back to straddling him. When I sink down onto his cock, his head falls back. The column of his throat is taut, and I can’t help but place a little kiss there. He shivers beneath me.
It’s a different kind of feeling, being with him now. It’s just as good as it’s always been. But there’s an added element of emotion—intimacy, vulnerability—that wasn’t quite there before. I relish in it.
“That feels good,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips as I start to move.
I focus on every sensation, every brush of his skin against mine. The way his chest rises and falls beneath my hands, the delicious friction building between us.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, his voice heavy with desire and something deeper—something that wraps around my heart and pulls tight. “You have no idea how good you make me feel.”
I lean forward, our foreheads touching as I ride him harder, deeper. Our breaths mingle, ragged and desperate. His hands slide up my body, tracing paths of heat along my bare skin. Each touch feels like a promise, and I want to believe in every single one.
“Hudson,” I gasp, the sound barely escaping my lips. His hands find my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I arch my back, pressing into his touch, craving more.
“So incredible,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice a blend of awe and lust.
He meets my movements with his own, our bodies slick with sweat. The pressure coils tight inside of me like a spring ready to snap. Those strong hands grip my hips harder, guiding me, urging me on.
“Yes,” I cry out, unable to hold back any longer. “I’m so close.”
“Me too,” he groans. “Let go with me.”
His words are a command, a plea. My world narrows to the point where our bodies connect, where every thrust, every touch, sends me spiraling towards the edge. I can feel him deep inside me, filling me up in ways that make it impossible to think of anything else but this moment.
“Now, Ella,” he whispers urgently, and it’s all I need. The tension breaks, and I’m falling apart around him, my climax crashing over me. My cries mingle with his groans of release, the sensation of him pulsing inside me drawing out my pleasure until I’m utterly spent.
We lie there together, breathing heavily, our bodies tangled. The room is filled with the scent of sweat and sex, and the harsh glow of the flashing city lights through the hotel window.
I rest my head on Hudson’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as I trace lazy circles on his skin. “See?” he whispers against my hair. “Together, we can do anything.”
I snort a laugh. “You know sex has never been the problem between us.”
“Hmm, that’s funny,” he says. “I see no problems here at all.”
“Right, well …” I tuck in closer, fingers still dancing on his arm. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”
“Okay, darlin’, if you insist.”