Chapter 5 Betty
Iwoke up slowly, drifting up from the deepest sleep I'd had in weeks.
At first, I was disoriented. The couch was too warm, and there was something solid beneath my cheek. Something that rose and fell with a steady rhythm. Something that smelled familiar.
Hudson.
Memory flooded back. The car chase. The terror. Asking him to hold me.
And he had. All night, apparently.
I was still curled against his chest, my leg thrown over his thighs, my hand fisted in his shirt. His arms were wrapped around me, one hand splayed across my lower back, the other tangled in my hair. Like even in sleep, he couldn't bear to let me go.
I should move and extract myself from this position before he woke up and realized how thoroughly I'd wrapped myself around him like some kind of desperate octopus.
But I didn't want to.
For the first time in weeks, and maybe for the first time in years, I felt safe.
Truly, completely safe. The constant knot of anxiety in my chest had loosened sometime during the night, and lying here in Hudson's arms, listening to his heartbeat beneath my ear, I felt something I'd almost forgotten existed.
Peace.
I let my eyes drift closed again, just for a moment. Just to enjoy this feeling before reality came crashing back.
His hand moved on my back, a slow, gentle stroke that sent shivers down my spine.
"You're awake," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
"So are you."
"Have been for a while." His fingers traced lazy patterns across my lower back, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin. "Didn't want to wake you. You needed the sleep."
"What time is it?"
"Almost eight."
I should get up, shower, start the day. There was so much to do. The bar needed to be opened. My staff needed to be checked on. The trial was still looming.
Hudson's hand kept moving on my back, those slow, hypnotic strokes, and I found myself sinking deeper into him instead of pulling away.
"Betty." His voice was strained now.
"Hmm?"
"You need to stop moving."
I froze, suddenly aware that my leg was draped over his thigh and that certain parts of my body were pressed very intimately against certain parts of his. Specifically, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my hip.
Heat flooded through me. Not embarrassment. Something far more dangerous.
"Sorry," I whispered, but I didn't move away.
"Don't be." His hand stilled on my back. "I'm not."
The air between us shifted. Thickened. The comfortable warmth of the morning became something else entirely, something charged and electric and full of possibility.
I lifted my head from his chest and found him watching me. His eyes were dark, almost black in the early morning light, and the want in them was so raw, so naked, that it made my breath catch.
"We shouldn't," I said, even as my body screamed at me to shut up.
"Probably not."
"I'm still angry at you."
"I know."
"I haven't forgiven you."
"I know that too."
His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing along my cheekbone. The same gesture he'd made in the kitchen two nights ago, right before he'd almost kissed me. Right before he'd stepped back and told me he'd wait.
"What changed?" I whispered.
"Nothing." His eyes searched mine. "Everything. I told you it would happen when you asked for it. When you couldn't stand being apart anymore."
"I didn't ask."
"You didn't pull away either."
He was right. I was still lying on top of him, my body pressed against his, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could feel it.
"Hudson." His name came out broken. Pleading.
"Tell me what you want, Betty." His thumb traced over my lower lip, and I felt the touch all the way to my core. "Tell me, and I'll give it to you. Anything. Everything. Just say the words."
I wanted to be strong. I wanted to maintain the walls I'd built, the distance I'd insisted on. I wanted to remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
But I was so tired of fighting.
Tired of pretending I didn't want him. Tired of denying the fire that had been building between us since the moment he'd walked back into my life. Tired of being alone.
"Kiss me," I said.
Something flared in his eyes.
"Thank fuck," he growled, and then his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was nothing like I remembered.
When we were young, Hudson's kisses had been sweet. Eager. Full of youthful passion but tempered with uncertainty, both of us still learning each other's bodies, still figuring out how to fit together.
This kiss was different.
This kiss was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to take it.
His mouth claimed mine with a ferocity that stole my breath, his tongue sweeping between my lips like he was trying to devour me.
One hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head to give him better access, while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.
I moaned into his mouth, and the sound seemed to unleash something in him.
He flipped us in one smooth motion, pressing me into the couch cushions, his body covering mine. The weight of him, the heat of him, it was overwhelming. Intoxicating. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel.
His mouth left mine to trail down my jaw, my neck, finding that spot behind my ear that made me gasp.
"God, I've missed this," he groaned against my skin. "Missed you. Every single day for ten years, Betty. Every single day."
I arched into him, my hands clawing at his back, pulling at his shirt. I needed to feel his skin. To touch him. I needed more.
He seemed to read my mind. In one fluid motion, he reared back and stripped his shirt over his head, and then he was on me again, and oh God, the feel of his bare chest against my thin tank top was almost too much.
"Your turn," he said, his fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. "Can I?"
I nodded, beyond words, and he peeled my tank top off slowly, like he was unwrapping something precious. His eyes swept over me, taking in the swell of my breasts, the lace of my bra, and the look on his face made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
"Jesus, Betty." His voice was wrecked. "You're even more gorgeous than I remembered."
He kissed me again, softer this time, his hands roaming over my bare skin like he was trying to memorize every inch. His fingers traced my collarbone, skimmed down my sternum, circled around the edges of my bra.
"I want to see all of you," he murmured against my lips. "I want to touch every part of you. I want to make you come so hard you forget your own name."
A whimper escaped me. I couldn't help it.
"Please," I breathed.
He reached behind me, and with one practiced motion, unhooked my bra and pulled it away. For a moment, he just looked at me, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with desire.
Then his mouth was on my breast, and I stopped thinking entirely.
He sucked my nipple between his lips, rolling it with his tongue, and I cried out, my back arching off the couch. His hand found my other breast, kneading, pinching, while his mouth worked magic on me.
"Hudson. Oh God. Hudson."
He switched sides, giving equal attention to my other breast, and I felt myself floating. Just from this. Just from his mouth on my breasts and his hands on my body.
"So responsive still," he murmured against my skin. "So fucking perfect."
His hand trailed lower, across my stomach, and I felt my muscles clench in anticipation. His fingers found the waistband of my sleep shorts and paused.
"Yes or no, Betty." His voice was strained, barely controlled. "We can stop here. We can go as slow as you need. But I need you to tell me what you want."
I grabbed his hand and pushed it lower, past the elastic of my shorts, past the thin cotton of my panties.
"I want you to touch me," I said. "I want to feel your fingers inside me. I want you to make me come."
He groaned like I'd just broken something inside him.
"Anything you want, baby. Anything."
His fingers slid through my slick folds, and we both gasped. Me at the sensation, him at what he found.
"So wet," he breathed. "Already so wet for me."
His thumb found my clit, circling it slowly, and my hips bucked against his hand.
"That's it," he murmured, his mouth finding mine again. "Let me make you feel good."
He kissed me deeply as his fingers explored, learning me all over again. One finger teased my entrance, circling, pressing, but not quite entering, and I whimpered with need.
"Hudson, please. I need—"
"I know what you need."
He slid one finger inside me, and I moaned into his mouth. He was slow, deliberate, letting me adjust, letting me feel every inch of the intrusion.
"More," I begged.
He added a second finger, stretching me, filling me, and I felt my inner walls clench around him. His thumb kept working my clit as his fingers pumped in and out, setting a rhythm that had me climbing toward the edge embarrassingly fast.
"That's it, baby," he said against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. "I can feel you getting close. I can feel you tightening around my fingers."
"Don't stop," I gasped. "Please don't stop."
"Fuck no honey." He curled his fingers inside me, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. "I'm never stopping. I'm never leaving you again. You're mine, Betty. You've always been mine."
His words pushed me over the edge.
The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, crashing through me with an intensity that bordered on painful. I cried out his name, my nails digging into his shoulders, my whole body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me.
Hudson worked me through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last tremor until I was gasping beneath him.
"Beautiful," he whispered, pressing soft kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, the corner of my mouth. "So fucking beautiful when you come."
I lay there, trying to catch my breath, my body still tingling with aftershocks. Hudson's fingers slipped out of me, and I immediately missed the fullness.
He kissed me softly. "We have a lot of years to make up for."
I could feel him against my thigh, still hard, still wanting. My hand drifted down his chest, toward his waistband, but he caught my wrist.
"Not yet," he said, and I could hear the strain in his voice. "This was about you."
"But you?"
"I'm fine." He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. "I've been wanting to do that for ten years. Trust me, I got plenty out of it."
"Hudson." I pulled him down for another kiss. "I want to touch you. I want to make you feel as good as you just made me feel."
"You will." He smiled against my mouth. "But not right now. Right now, I just want to hold you."
He shifted us so that I was tucked against his side, my head on his chest, my leg thrown over his. Just like we'd been when we woke up, except now we were both half-naked and my body was still humming with pleasure.
"This changes things," I said quietly.
"I know."
"I'm still not ready to forgive you completely. I'm still not sure I trust you not to leave again."
"I know that too." His hand stroked up and down my bare back. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm not asking for trust. Those are things I have to earn. I'm just asking for a chance."
I lifted my head to look at him. His expression was open, vulnerable in a way I'd rarely seen from him.
"You're asking for a lot," I said.
"I'm asking for everything." He cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. "Because that's what you are to me, Betty. Everything."
My heart clenched. Damn him for knowing exactly what to say. Damn him for making me feel things I'd sworn I'd never feel again.
"Okay," I said quietly.
"Okay?"
"Okay, you can have your chance." I pressed a kiss to his chest. "But if you leave me again, if you disappear and break my heart for a second time, I will hunt you down and kill you myself."
He laughed. "Deal," he said.
We lay there in comfortable silence as the morning light grew stronger, tangled together on the couch, my skin against his skin, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
I knew this didn't fix everything. I knew we still had problems to work through, trust to rebuild, pain to address. The trial was still looming. Lang and Briggs were still out there. My life was still in danger.
But for this moment, in this quiet morning, with Hudson's arms around me and the taste of him still on my lips, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.
"Betty?" Hudson's voice was soft.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For giving me another chance. I know I don't deserve it. I know I have a lot to make up for." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying."
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, shattering the moment. I reached for it and saw Agent Torres's name on the screen.
"I have to take this," I said, sitting up reluctantly.
Hudson nodded, his expression shifting from tender to alert in an instant. The bodyguard was back.
I answered the phone.
"Ms. Ramirez," Torres said. "We have a development. I need you both to come to the field office as soon as possible."
My stomach dropped. "What kind of development?"
"The kind we need to discuss in person. How soon can you be here?"
I looked at Hudson, who was already getting up, reaching for his shirt.
"An hour," I said. "We'll be there in an hour."
"Good. And Ms. Ramirez?" Torres paused. "Stay alert. Things are escalating."
The line went dead.
I set the phone down and met Hudson's eyes.
"Looks like our morning is over," I said.
"Looks like." He pulled on his shirt, then crossed to me, tilting my face up for one last kiss. "But this isn't over. Not by a long shot."