Chapter 25
twenty-five
SKYLER
“Are you sure you have this covered?” I ask Jesse. He’s standing behind the bar looking like he owns the place, which he will very soon. We’ve spent the last week really getting to know each other and it already feels natural to be spending time with him.
But tonight I’ll be sleeping in a bed with Hudson Fitzgerald. The thought makes me feel strange – excited and scared at the same time. Bedless sex with that man I could handle. A whole night in bed with him? Only time will tell.
“Of course I have it covered.” He looks over at Maud, who’s working the shift with him. I offered for Jesse to stay over in the apartment, but he demurred.
“Now go sort this thing out with your lawyer,” he tells me. “Not that there’s any need for it.”
Okay, so I told Jesse a little white lie about why I’m heading over to the mainland. Not that it’s really a lie – or at least that’s how I’ve justified it to myself. I will be meeting with Hudson’s lawyer tomorrow morning, so that I can move the bar into mine and Jesse’s joint control. But of course I didn’t tell him about staying the night with Hudson.
It feels too weird right now.
The ferry blasts its horn, which means its coming into port. “That’s your cue,” Jesse says, because he knows the schedule by heart. “Now stop worrying, I have this under control. Do you know how many times I’ve worked behind this bar? And at least Hudson and I won’t have to carry Dad to his bed when the night is over.”
I blink. “You used to have to do that?” And Hudson helped? Gah, this man needs to stop making my legs go weak, even when he’s nowhere near me.
“Only sometimes. Now go, before you miss the ferry. You know it won’t wait for you.”
I lean across the counter to kiss his cheek, then pick up my overnight case, which is stupidly full because I have no idea what to wear tonight. Tomorrow was a cinch. I actually have a pretty blouse and skirt to meet the lawyer.
But Hudson has been completely evasive about the plans for tonight, which is very annoying when you’re a woman. He’s probably used to having partners with extensively suitable wardrobes – a designer dress for every occasion. I’m a Stevie Nicks wannabe with a few dirndl skirts and tops that expose way too much skin.
I hate that I’m doubting myself. I never doubt myself. This is what happens when you give in to a man who’s desperate to get you into bed. The whole of your psyche gets messed up.
And yet I still hurry to the ferry, the warm early-summer wind whipping through my hair as I make it to the dock. I can see Hudson’s car lining up at the gate. It’s sparkling beneath the rays of the sun like it’s been buffed to an inch of its life.
It takes ten minutes for the boat to offload the visitors, then reload the return passengers. I climb aboard with one other foot passenger, then make my way to the front, where I lean on the rail and look toward the mainland in the distance.
This is the first time I’ve been off the island since that rainy day I arrived. It feels like a lifetime ago. Back then I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with Liberty, or that I’d find out the reason why my dad wanted me to be here. And never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be hooking up with a grumpy rich businessman who fills out a suit like nobody else can.
There are footsteps behind me. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is, because every cell in my body seems to vibrate. I can smell the low notes of his cologne. Even the cadence of his footsteps is familiar.
“Hi.” He kisses my cheek. “What a surprise seeing you here.” I turn to look at him, and am stupidly turned on by the smirk on his lips.
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” I say, playing along. “Are you sure this boat is big enough for the both of us?”
“I think we can be civil to each other for the next twenty minutes,” he muses. “Although it could be a challenge.” The ocean breeze lifts up his hair, and he looks almost carefree. He’s wearing a suit – of course – this one is a dark blue wool, cut perfectly to fit his broad, muscled body. He’s teamed it with a lighter blue shirt and a pale red tie. His jaw is sharp, freshly shaven. Everything about this man draws me in.
My own clothes are very different. A pair of vintage flared jeans and some old sneakers, along with an old, faded band t-shirt and a thin sweater tied around my waist. Hudson follows my gaze and a smile pulls at his lips.
“You look spectacular,” he says.
Oh. I grin at him. “So do you.” I tip my head to the side. “Do you wear suits to bed, too? If so I might need to prepare myself.” My tone is teasing, and he rolls his eyes. We both know I’ve seen him in jeans, but still.
“You’ll find out tonight I guess. And I’m wearing a suit because I have a meeting when we get to New York.”
“New York?” I do a double take, thinking I misheard. “I thought we were going to the mainland?”
“Last time I checked, Manhattan was definitely on the mainland.” His voice is teasing.
“The mainland means the town.” I point at the church spire that rises above the houses ahead of us along the shoreline. “Doesn’t it?” Now I’m confused. This is what happens when you don’t live somewhere all your life. You take on their language but then you use it wrong.
“It can mean anything. But today it means New York.”
“How long will it take to drive to New York?” I ask, folding my arms in front of me.
He smiles at how pouty I sound. “We’re not driving, we’re flying.”
“What?” I blink. “We’re taking a plane?”
He shakes his head. “A helicopter. It’s a lot faster. I have to be in a meeting at two. Don’t worry, there’s a spa at the hotel. I thought you could try it out before the party.”
“The party ?” My brows lift so high I swear they’re touching my hairline. “What party?”
“I told you. There’s a business thing this evening. We just need to show our faces.”
“You didn’t tell me it was a party.” My heart does a little gallop. “I can’t go to a party.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Dear god, why is he such a man ? “Parties require planning. I need to figure out what to wear, get my hair ready. Bring the right makeup. It takes weeks to prepare for a party. Not a few hours.”
He tips his head to the side, not getting it at all. “You look good like that.”
My mouth drops open. “You want me to go to a party in jeans and a band tee?”
“For somebody who doesn’t care what people think you seem remarkably anxious about fitting in,” he says, echoing his words of the other day. “Relax, it’ll be fine. What would Stevie Nicks do?”
My mouth gapes open. “You’re using Stevie against me now?” I hate that he knows it will work.
“I’m just pointing out that I want you to come to the party because you’re you . I don’t give a fuck what you wear. Now if you do, then that’s a different matter and we can do something about that.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“It means we’re going to be in New York. If you want a designer dress there are a hundred shops I can ask my driver to take you to. Or I can arrange for some dresses to be brought to the hotel.”
“You want to Pretty Woman me up?” I ask, my brows lifting.
“No. I didn’t say that. For a start, I wouldn’t fucking dare.”
I hate that he makes me laugh right now. But he does, and I can’t hide it.
“You’re so annoying,” I tell him. “You could have told me that we were going to New York.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it was obvious. You’re meeting my lawyer tomorrow.”
“I figured he came here to meet with you,” I say in a small voice.
“Not unless it’s an emergency. It’s a lot easier to meet with him when I’m in New York for business.”
That makes sense. “But the party…”
“I said we were going out for dinner,” he points out.
“I figured it would be casual. Like you wouldn’t want to waste too much time feeding me. You only get one night in bed with me after all.”
It’s his turn to scowl. It makes me want to lick his face.
“First of all, having dinner with you isn’t wasting time. You don’t want to be pretty womaned?” he asks, wincing at using the movie title as a verb. “Well I don’t want to either. I’m not a fucking trick, Skyler. I’m not taking you out for a meal to pay you for sex.”
Oh, he’s annoyed now. For some reason that makes me feel better. And psychologically, I know it’s not a good thing but I’ll worry about that later.
“And second?” I ask, my voice low.
“Second?” he repeats, frowning.
“You said first of all. Which implies a second.”
“So you’re not going to point out that I’m not a trick paying you for sex?”
I manage to swallow down a laugh. “Have you ever used a prostitute, Hudson?”
“No.”
“Then why would I think of you as a trick? First of all, you couldn’t afford me.”
“And second?” He turns my words back on me.
“Second of all…” I say, trying to think on my feet. “Maybe I don’t want to share you. Maybe I want it to be just the two of us and nobody else. Maybe I have plans for you tonight that involve neither of us wearing anything and me screaming your name so loudly that the whole hotel starts to shake.”
A slow breath escapes his parted lips.
“Why the fuck are we arguing about this?” he asks. “I’ll just decline the party invite. It’s fine.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We’re going to this party. And then you’re going to owe me big time.”
“How big?”
“Huge,” I say. Because I’m still pretty-womaning it.
“Okay.” He nods. “But I’m still paying for your dress.”
“No need,” I tell him. “I’m looking forward to embarrassing you with some completely inappropriate choice of clothing.”
There’s that smile again. “Good,” he tells me.
I reach out, tracing the waistband of his stupidly expensive pants. “And by the way, it’ll be so inappropriate that you’ll have a hard on all night.”
* * *
HUDSON
“The projections show the investment will be fully recouped within ten months,” Ria, my chief financial officer says to the shareholders around the boardroom of our penthouse offices. Once upon a time this was my domain. I’d be here every day, the first to arrive and the last to leave, as a matter of principle.
I loved the adrenaline shot that came with working in the center of Manhattan. I made more money than I ever dreamed of, and I was the person that everybody in this office looked up to.
Now all I can think about is when will this fucking interminable meeting end.
My phone beeps and I pull it out of my pocket. Skyler’s name appears on the screen, along with a notification that she’s shared a photograph with me.
And because right now I couldn’t give a shit about whether the investment gets paid back in ten or twelve months I discreetly open up the message.
Then I thank the fucking lord I was discreet, because staring back at me is the woman I’ve been obsessing over. She must have just stepped out of the shower, because she’s completely soaked, her hair laying in a mahogany sheet down her back, her face shining bright. She has a towel wrapped around her, and nothing else.
Maybe the ‘post-massage chic’ look could work for tonight? Thoughts? – Skyler xx
My thoughts right now are completely honed in on the way her breasts are pressed up by the tightly wrapped towel. And how easily I could pull it off her and kiss my way down her body.
She knows what she’s doing. I know what she’s doing too. She’s playing. And I want to play with her. So damn much.
“Isn’t that right, Hudson?” Ria asks.
I look up on hearing my name. “Repeat that, please.”
“Mr. Clarke asked about the future profit ratio. I was just saying we’re waiting for one more piece of information to make those projections.”
“That’s correct, yes.” I look down at my phone.
Stevie Nicks would love it. – Hudson
I hit send and try to concentrate on this damn meeting, because people have made an effort to be here and it’s my business. But I’m already regretting trying to combine business and pleasure.
Would she love this, do you think? – Skyler ;)
As soon as her reply appears on my phone I know I should ignore it. But the need to open it is like a damn fly, so persistent it’s aggravating. So I look down at my phone again and slide my finger over the screen.
Fuck. She’s naked. And yeah, she has her back to the mirror that she’s taken this selfie in. All I can see is the smooth creaminess of her skin and the plump curves of her behind, but that’s all it takes for every part of me to fire up.
“Let’s take a break,” I say, interrupting Ria.
Everybody sitting around the table looks at me.
“Ten minutes,” I add, because none of them would dare to contradict me. “I need to make a couple of phone calls, then we’ll reconvene.”
Before any of them can say a word, I’m up and striding out of the board room, storming past my assistant into my office, and closing the door behind me.
I open up my phone again, my eyes lingering on the way her back curves into a dip before flaring out again. Her ass looks perfect, so high and full. I swallow hard, because right now I need to feel her skin in my hands. My mouth on her body.
My cock deep inside of her until we’re both screaming each other’s names.
I hit the call button and she answers within a second.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” she asks innocently.
“I called a break,” I tell her thickly. “Somebody keeps annoying me with sexy photos.”
“Annoying?” she repeats. “Noted. No more photos will be sent.”
“What are you wearing right now?” I demand, ignoring her warning.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Absolutely.”
“A thong. Nothing else.”
“Where are you?”
“In our bedroom,” she says huskily. “By the way, thank you for the massage.”
“I didn’t give it to you.”
“But you paid for it. Which is very Richard Gere of you, by the way. What are you wearing?” she asks.
“Way too much.”
“I’m sure your staff would disagree,” she says, sounding gleeful.
“I don’t really give a damn what they think,” I tell her. “Send me another picture.”
“Oh, so you like them, huh?” She lets out a little breath and it does delicious things to my dick. “Tell you what, I’ll video call you. That way there’s no evidence on your phone.”
“I could screenshot you,” I say.
“But you wouldn’t. Because you’re a man who only works on consent.” My screen lights up with a message telling me that Skyler would like to change our call from an audio to a video one. I hit accept immediately.
And then her face appears and I’m fucking breathless. She’s so damn beautiful. She’s smiling and she’s happy and it does the stupidest things to me.
“Hi,” she breathes.
“Hi.” I take in her glowing skin, her wet hair. “Are you having a good time?”
“The spa was nice. But I missed you.”
“Next time I’ll join you,” I promise.
“There’s going to be a next time? Interesting.” Her eyes sparkle. “So do it. Show me what you’re wearing.”
I roll my eyes but turn to face the mirror on my wall, flipping the camera to face it.
“You haven’t even taken off your jacket or loosened your tie,” she says, laughing. “You’re the most uptight man I’ve ever met.”
“I just have standards.” I turn the camera back to my face and smirk at her.
“Do they include talking to naked women when you’re supposed to be working?” she asks huskily.
“You’re not naked. You’re wearing a thong.”
“Are you sure about that?” she murmurs.
My eyes are trained on the phone screen as she flips the camera around. It’s pointing toward the ceiling before she slowly turns her camera to her own mirror. She takes a step back and I see her beautiful body in the reflective glass. Every inch of her is perfect. And yes, she’s completely fucking naked.
“I’ll tell them we can’t go to the party,” I say. “We’ll have room service after the first round.”
It’s her turn to smile. “Absolutely not. I’ve already decided what to wear.”
“I liked the post-massage chic style,” I tell her.
“I’m glad. But you haven’t paid nearly enough for blindsiding me about this party. So my plan is to torture you all evening until you’re barely holding onto your sanity by a thread.”
“It’s working so far.” I love the way this woman bounces back.
I love way too much about her. I blink that thought away.
“Good. Now go back to your meeting. I’ll see you when you get back,” she says, making it sound almost ominous.
“Be naked. And wet.”
“No can do, sorry. There’s no bed related shenanigans until after the party.” She turns the camera back to her face.
And I can’t say I’m sorry. Yes, she has a body made for sin, but her face is so damn perfect. I like looking into her eyes.
I like her.
And isn’t that a turnaround for the books?