Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
JULIETTE
H udson and I stand in silence for a while as I watch the scar on his thigh. He waits for me to speak, but I’m at a loss for words. How do I go on from this? I can’t say he has betrayed me because, in the larger scope, I really don’t matter. But I can’t help but feel that way. Rage and spite run through me. In a way, Phillipa has won this moment. She had mocked me, and with everything I had in me, I hoped she was wrong. I prayed that she was wrong and expected her to be, but it wasn’t so.
“So, you lied to me,” I tell him, and from the look on his face, I can tell he is tired of this. This isn’t how he expected the night to go, That sentiment applies to me as well. I had a good day, an absolutely terrific day, and I was eager to have Hudson back home so I could tell him all about it. Yet, after Phillipa talked to me, I had to throw myself into helping Alejandro make dinner because letting myself be jobless for a moment threw me into wondering if there was any validity in what Phillipa told me. I knew she didn’t tell me that to help me, and this right now, the anger I’m feeling, the urge I feel to attack him and hit him till I’m satisfied, is the reason she told me. She doesn’t want to suffer alone. Well, she wins.
“I didn’t think you needed the truth,” he says. “Why did you pursue this? You should have let it go.”
Maybe he shouldn't have shown me. Maybe he should have insisted on not showing me.
Yet, I want to know more. I don’t want any lies between us. I want to know what he did to her and how they really came to meet. I walk towards him and stand before him. I can see the lethargy in his eyes and can tell he really wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep.
“Let’s forget about this night, Juliette; we’ll go to sleep. I’ll take the couch. We’ll talk with focused heads tomorrow when we both feel better.”
“No,” I refuse. “I want to talk about it tonight.”
“Come on! What the hell is wrong with you!” Hudson’s outburst doesn’t shock or deter me; in fact, I expect it. He would protest having any conversation regarding the matter again tonight, but I don’t see myself sleeping or resting unless we iron things out. We need to have this talk, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. It doesn’t matter if it opens old wounds and cuts new wounds into my skin. I know if we don’t, Hudson will make a run for it tomorrow morning, and then we’ll continue this dance tomorrow night, and he’ll give the excuse that he is too tired to talk about it again, and then we go on and never speak of it.
Maybe I can do that. Maybe I can act like all of this never happened. Do my part of the contract for the rest of the days as required by me, and then I head back from Manhattan. Maybe this will even be for the best. Truly, I consider the possibility, and it is feasible. Why then can’t I bring myself to do it?
The answer stares right at me. I know it my heart deep down in a part that I really don’t want to take a closer look at. It’s those eyes, those dark eyes that now scour into the depths of my soul. I have let myself fall in love with them. I’ve made the error of getting too familiar with that look on his face. I’ve made the error of seeing solace in these eyes; even though now, all they offer me is pain, I still look to them for joy, and I hope in talking about this issue, I’ll be able to seek joy from them again. I can’t believe it.
What the hell are you doing, Juliette? I wonder quietly to myself.
If I go down this path, I’ll be without protection to my heart at the end of the seven days when I will have no choice but to detach from him. I should never have gotten attached to him in the first place. But there is no helping or changing this now. This is how I feel. This is how it is now.
“I need to know everything, Hudson.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I won’t force you.”
“All it’ll lead to is more argument and fight.”
“Then, let’s have the fight then. I can tell you’re hiding something from me, Hudson. You know I can tell. If you look at me and think that I don’t deserve to know what it is, then you can go back to bed.”
Yes, it is better that way. I want to know if he feels even the tiniest bit of what I feel. Does looking into my eyes make him falter, too? Does his heart skip beats at the thought of causing me so much pain? If it does, he’ll know I deserve some explanation. If not, I’ll go back to bed and sleep like a baby. The answer to the question then will determine how I react. Do I return to myself and start to feel detached from now on?
I don’t know what I want. Whatever it is that I’m developing for him in my heart cannot last, and common sense tells me that it’s better to nip it in the bud now that it isn’t so established, yet, what I want the most is to let it spread, to really feel what it’s like to love a man like him.
No, not love. This can’t be love. I can’t be foolish enough to fall in love with a man like Hudson.
“Tell me, what is it? I deserve to know.”
“Why are you doing this?” he asks. He looks troubled and obviously at an impasse.
“I don’t know,” I confess.
Hudson closes his eyes, struggling with his heart and brain. He nods and then walks to the couch. I take it as a hint to follow him. I sit just a couple of inches from him, and then he relaxes, prepared to speak. I’m truly afraid I realize, of what I’ll hear from him.
“I don’t know what Phillipa said to you, but she’s a liar who I’m sure is out there to hurt you. She wants you to feel bad, to feel miserable like she does.”
She’s succeeded already, and the anguish I feel has little to do with her. I am angry at myself. How did I let myself go so easily? How did I let myself get so distracted and not notice my heart opening itself up for Hudson? How did I let myself get so wound up in him? Maybe if we didn’t make love last night, things wouldn’t be this terrible, I want to believe, but this goes beyond the wonderful time we shared. Hudson paid attention to me in a way that no one else had ever done before. It might not have been his intention, and I might have been blind to it, but it obviously had an effect on me. A devastating one I will soon, I am sure, be forced to admit.
“It’s not about Phillipa anymore,” Hudson says. “It’s about the two of us.”
What about the two of us? I want to ask. What do you mean by the two of us? There can be no two of us. There is just the contract, and you are holding up your end of the deal in the contract—nothing more, nothing less.
“Whatever she said, we can’t let it come between the two of us,” continues Hudson.
He keeps saying the two of us. What does it mean? What does it imply?
God, so many thoughts are running through my head it hurts.
I have nothing to say in response, so all I do is watch. He speaks again soon enough.
“Yes, I sought her out, but I think you know why. I never fancied her. I have never fancied her. I told you; she isn’t my type.”
“You’ve told me that before too,” I point out to him.
“Yes, I did. But I told you to get rid of whatever assumption you were drumming up in your head about me when I mentioned the deal to you. With Phillipa, it was the truth. She never was my type, and I never felt anything for her.”
Is it different for me? Do you feel something for me? I want to ask. Oh, how much I wish I could have the answer to that question.
“Alison had the idea, and I thought then that it was a good idea. Now, I see it was just a big blunder. I’ve never had to deal with a problem like Frank, and I let my caution of the man get the better of me. We needed to find a way to get closer to Frank, something to endear myself to him to bring a quick end to our Frank issue. We found out about the girl, Phillipa. She was special to him, and he adored her, but upon closer inspection, we saw that she was lonely. Phillipa, being a daddy’s girl for too long, has never known any other manly attention that wasn’t her father’s. It would be easy for me to get closer to her and make her realize what she was missing. It was a terrible thing to do, but her father prompted me. It was all a calculated move. Everything I did with her was presumptive and thought-out. Everything was mechanical, and in search of a quick way to bring an end to the negative impact her father was having on my company. The dinners, the kiss, the ring, everything.”
“The ring?” I ask. “This ring?”
“Yes. I got it so I could propose to her, but I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t string her along just to cut her away as soon as I figured Frank isn’t a problem anymore.”
“What about the tattoos?” I ask.
“It was another stupid act from me. Why do you think I tried my best to get it erased? Phillipa got obsessed with me. At the beginning, I thought I had it under control, but I was mistaken. She started to ask crazy things of me and wanted me to prove that I loved her. She wanted me to show her that I was intentional about her and that I really cared about her. I shouldn't have done it. I should have backed out then because I was starting to see this was bound to end terribly. The poor thing just wanted someone to love her, and I was using her. I felt sick with myself, but I couldn’t stop. I had to go on. So, I got the tattoo. It’s not something I’m proud of. It’s something I will forever detest myself for. I should have summoned the courage to put an end to the madness, but I was worried that if I backed out, I would lose my company. I didn’t want that.”
I don’t know what to say to everything he said. You made an elaborate lie and built on that lie. How can I trust that he isn’t lying to me, even now?
“It’s why I can’t bring myself to lie to her any longer. I tell her the whole truth about how I feel about her even if I know it’ll hurt her. It’s better for her to find a way to deal with it all instead of forestalling a pain that’ll bring in the future.”
Still, I’m clueless about what to say.
“Won’t you say something?” he demands after a while. “You hounded me to speak, and now I have spoken, and you suddenly have nothing to say? Do you hate me now too?”
Hate? I can’t see myself hating him. And maybe that is the reason I’m caught with my voice in my throat, trying to find the right thing to say.
“I don’t know whether to believe you or not,” I say finally, and he looks at me, shocked.
“What? You think I’m lying?” he is yelling now.
“I don’t think you’re lying. It’s just I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this. You, you did all of that and…” I can’t go on. “I don’t know,” I say and get up. I consider walking out of the room, but I really want to talk about it. I want it all out tonight. So, I walk to the fireplace instead, and it fills me with memories of the two of us intertwined so passionately together. I can still feel his lips on my skin, the burn of his touch. Every single moment is burned onto my brain, and I just don’t know how to figure it out.
Hudson pulls me closer to himself and I stand mere inches from him, burning with desire even now, looking into his eyes. I still truly can’t believe how attached I feel to him. How he’s made me want him so much that I’m afraid to breathe and even more terrified to let go. How the fuck did this happen?
His eyes. I can’t help but lament because I’m sure that they are to blame. Looking into them makes me feel weak, even now. It feels me still with this crazed urge to make bad decisions. But this isn’t the time for that. I must focus now. There is much bigger fish to fry.
“Look at me,” Hudson says, and I truly suspect that he wants me to see beyond all of this. I wonder if he knows exactly what he’s asking and knowing him I’m sure that he does. “Do you think I have any intention to hurt you?”
Those eyes are cold but sweet to me. They speak of the comfort he wants to show me, of the love and bliss. But I don’t just want his eyes to tell me. I am terrified of assuming. I want to hear him speak it.
“You told her those things also, didn’t you?” I ask him and pull away from him. I head for the loveseat, but I don’t sit.
Hudson scoffs and hisses in anger. He walks over to a corner of the room, maintaining a considerable distance from me.
“I told you already: with Phillipa, it was different. There was an ulterior motive. It was never about her. None of what I did was about her. It was her father.”
“With me, there is the contract.” I point out.
“Yes, there’s the contract, but it is different.”
“How?”
“I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m letting myself go through this tortuous moment. Do you think I don’t have the option to refer you to the contract and be done with it? You, tell me! You think I’m enjoying any part of this?”
If what Phillipa says is right, maybe you are, I think to myself.
“You said it. You’re a meticulous man. You take pleasure in being thorough. Maybe this is you just being thorough. This is you not leaving anything to chance.”
“Juliette, what is wrong with you?” he asks, evidently exhausted. “Why can’t you let yourself be happy? Just for a moment, why can’t you let the pessimism perish?”
I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to be hurt so terribly. So, I’m believing the worst until there is absolutely no reason to believe it anymore. But is Hudson the kind of man to give me that reassurance? I don’t think so. So, maybe it’s the reason I can’t let myself be happy.
Oh, what have I gotten myself into?
Hudson walks over to me and turns me around so I can face him. His eyes are dark, intense, filled with a mixture of frustration and desire that sends a shiver down my spine.
“What is this, Juliette?” he says, looking tortured and exhausted. “What are we doing here? What are you doing here? Why are you letting yourself hurt for no reason?”
“It’s not for no reason. It’s because of you.”
“And here I am, assuring you I have no intention of causing you any form of pain. None. And before anyone hurts you, I’ll squeeze the life out of them; I promise you that.”
I remember Jasmine said something along those lines.
He touches my cheek, and a wave of relief rushes through me. I throw all caution to the wind and lean into him. Just a single touch, and all the worries that had me in a bind disappear. This is the effect he has on me. This is why I must ensure he isn’t playing me like he played Phillipa. But how am I to do this? It embarrasses me that I even care to.
When our lips touch, I can’t help but cry. My eyes water, and the tears flow down my cheeks, but he catches them with his finger.
“Damn, Juliette. What am I going to do with you?” he asks, then kisses me back with a ravenous hunger that ignites something primal within me. My heart races, my breath catches, and in an instant, the fire beneath my skin flares up, wild and out of control. This… this right here is why he is dangerous for me.
He needs me now, and I need him as well. There is no time or desire for foreplay here. The back-and-forth argument has inadvertently filled both of us with a thirst that can’t be repressed anymore. My hands move all over his body as the kiss deepens, slow at first, then desperate, as if we’re both drowning and the only air we can find is in each other’s mouths.
Hudson picks me up, his strength effortless, and settles me on top of the hearth of the fireplace. A gasp tears out of me as he roughly pulls my thong aside, the fabric scraping against my sensitive skin. I’m already wet, my juices dripping onto the cold stone beneath me, but I don’t care. All I want is him inside me, filling me, taking me with the raw, unfiltered need that we’ve both been denying for too long.
I reach for his pants, fumbling to free his hardened cock, and he helps me, both of us frantic, no words needed. The moment his length is free, I move closer, wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him in, desperate to feel him inside me.
He pushes into me with a force that steals my breath, stretching me wide, filling me completely, and I throw my head back, a guttural moan escaping my lips as the pleasure surges through me. I dig my nails into his back, urging him on, needing him to fuck me harder, deeper, until there’s nothing left but this overwhelming sensation of him pounding into me, driving me closer to the edge with every thrust.
Hudson’s grip on my hips is bruising, but I love it, love the way he takes control, the way he owns me in this moment. There’s nothing gentle about the way we move together, nothing soft or tender—just pure, unadulterated hunger. I bite down on his clavicle, trying to muffle the scream building in my throat, but it’s no use. I’m as loud as ever, my voice echoing off the walls as he fucks me relentlessly, each thrust more powerful than the last.
The world turns on its head; Hudson and I are back in the position we swore not to be in this morning, and it’s barely been twenty-four hours. But we can’t help it. The more we try to deny this, the deeper the hunger runs, pulling us back to each other with an intensity that neither of us can resist.
My body is on fire, every nerve ending alive with the sensation of him inside me, his cock slamming into me with a rhythm that drives me wild. I can feel the pressure building, the tension coiling tight in my core, ready to snap, and I know he’s close too—his breathing ragged, his grip on me tightening as he drives into me with everything he has.
And then it happens—a cataclysmic wave of pleasure crashes over me, my orgasm hitting me with such force that I cry out, my entire body trembling as I come hard around him. Hudson follows right behind me, his cock pulsing as he spills into me, his release triggering another wave of ecstasy that leaves me breathless and shaking.
We collapse against each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in unison as we come down from the high. My mind is spinning, my body still trembling from the intensity of it all, and as I look into his eyes, I know that whatever happens next, we can’t keep lying to each other. We need this, need each other, in a way that goes beyond words, beyond reason.
What the next couple of days hold for us is anyone’s guess, but for now, I’m content to stay here, wrapped in his arms, my body still humming with the aftershocks of our passion. Hudson and I may be walking a dangerous line, but in this moment, nothing else matters.