Chapter 26
twenty-six
SKYLER
“You know, we could still change our minds and head back to the hotel,” Hudson says, as we drive toward the party which is being held in an achingly upscale restaurant in mid Manhattan. “I can call and cancel this.”
He slides his hand over my thigh. He can’t stop touching me, which I’m absolutely a fan of. I ended up wearing the dress I’d packed to have dinner with him this evening, back when I thought we would be staying right over the water from Liberty and not in the swanky hotel in New York City.
It’s white and long sleeved, with a plunging neckline and a skirt that skims my calves. Perfect for a provincial dinner but somehow out of place in New York. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off my cleavage and I’m here for that.
“By the way,” I say, leaning to whisper in his ear. “I have something for you.”
His eyes lock on mine. “Is it a million dollar ruby necklace you borrowed from a jeweler?” he asks and I laugh. He really is taking this Pretty Woman thing seriously.
“Not quite.” I take his hand, then put his gift into it. He opens it up and frowns, looking at the white scrap of lace on his palm.
“White lace panties,” he says. “I’m not sure they go with my look.”
I grin. “They didn’t go with mine either. And since you’ve already started your collection I thought you could add to it.”
His gaze dips to my dress. He gets the message, I’m bare beneath it. He slides the lace into his pocket.
“You know, the usual response to a gift is to give one back,” I point out.
“I thought you didn’t want me to Julia Roberts you,” he replies. He’s still distracted by my panties. I can tell that by the way he’s shifting in his seat.
“I don’t. I want your underwear.”
He grins. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “Quid pro quo. You have my thong, I want your boxers. I have space in my purse,” I point out, lifting my silver evening bag.
His gaze dips to my mouth. “Just when I think I understand you, you completely surprise me. What’s so sexy about men’s underwear?”
“Nothing. But what’s sexy is you submitting to me.”
“I’m not a submissive,” he murmurs. “Quite the opposite.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so sexy.” I’m kidding really. But there’s something so intense about the way I’m feeling about this man. It helps to try to keep it light.
Because in a few hours I’ll be in his bed. The one thing I said I wouldn’t do. And then I’m not sure who I’ll be anymore.
We arrive at the restaurant all too quickly. The sky is getting dark and all the cars and cabs on the road have their lights on. A few of them are honking their horns, reminding me just how loud normal life is compared to life on Liberty.
“Ouch,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Can’t they take a chill pill?”
“I believe those are now legal in New York,” Hudson jokes, waving his driver off. I guess he’ll call when he wants us to be picked up.
“Does he stay nearby?” I ask.
“What?”
“The driver. Does he just drive around the corner and wait for your call?” I’ve always wondered about this when watching old movies with drivers in them. I want to know their story, see what they do, not the glamorous actresses sweeping through the city.
“Like a beck and call driver? No. He’ll probably go and get some dinner.” Hudson shrugs. “I use a service. They work out the logistics, I just look pretty in their car.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the restaurant door. As soon as we’re at the Maitre d’ station I start to feel a little wobbly. Nobody else in here is wearing white. Everybody’s in dark colors and I stand out like a sore thumb. Maybe I should have taken Hudson’s offer of a dress after all.
I tug at the low neckline, wanting to cover myself up.
“You look glorious,” Hudson tells me.
“Remind me why we’re here again,” I ask.
“Because it’s one of my investor’s birthdays and he invited us.”
“And his name is Daniel?”
“That’s right. He’s there.” He points at a huge table in the restaurant, where a silver haired man is laughing and surrounded by people who stare at him adoringly. “That’s Daniel, next to him is his wife.”
“Which next to him?”
“The left.”
“She looks younger than me.”
“Welcome to New York.” Hudson smiles, sliding his fingers between mine, as somebody calls out his name to greet him.
It turns out that the whole restaurant has been rented for this birthday. Hudson and I are at the main table, across from Daniel and his blonde wife, who is clad in black Dior. I try not to cling too hard to Hudson’s hand as he introduces me to our fellow guests.
It’s one of those parties where couples aren’t seated directly next to each other. Instead, Hudson is three people down from me, and I’m between two men – one of whom is apparently Daniel’s son, who looks distinctly like he doesn’t want to be here. The other is Daniel’s lawyer, whose wife is also wearing black.
Let’s face it, all the women are wearing black. Except me.
“You’re a new one,” the lawyer’s wife says, leaning across her husband to talk to me. “What an interesting dress.”
“Thank you.” I flash her a smile. From the corner of my eye I can feel Hudson watching me. I take a breath and square my shoulders. It’s fine. I’m fine.
“How long have you and Hudson been dating?” she asks.
“Um… a little while.” If you can count bedless sex as dating. I decide not to add that.
“Where did you meet?”
“On Liberty Island. Where Hudson has his hotel. I run the bar there.”
“You’re a bar maid?” Daniel’s son suddenly comes to life. And I immediately wish he hadn’t.
“I own the bar,” I correct him.
“Where did you go to school?” he asks.
“High school?” I clarify. Why would he want to know that?
Everybody around us laughs at my response. “He means college,” the lawyer’s wife tells me.
“Oh. I um…I didn’t go.” I feel my face start to heat up. Hudson stands up and leaves the table and I’m wondering if he’s regretting bringing me. I’m such an idiot. “Well I kind of dropped out of community college after the first semester.”
“Dropped out?” the lawyer’s wife murmurs. “That’s novel.”
“Wish I could have dropped out,” the lawyer says, rolling his eyes. “I only just finished paying off my loans.” He shoots me a smile and I smile back. But I still feel like a stupid fish out of water.
“Okay?” Hudson murmurs, leaning down to kiss my cheek. Where’s he been?
“Of course,” I say too quickly. He strokes my shoulder.
“Where’s your bag?” he asks.
“My bag?” I reach down for it. “Why?” Then he takes it and slips something inside.
And I swear my body implodes. I don’t even need to look inside to know. He’s just put his boxers in there.
Hudson Fitzgerald is going commando for me.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Instead I feel this stupid wave of emotion, because I know he did it to calm me. To make me feel more powerful, because that’s what I need right now.
He hands me my bag back, like he’s just slipped a handkerchief in there. “Isn’t she perfect?” he says to Daniel’s son. “I keep pinching myself to check that I’m not dreaming.”
I look at his face. There’s no hint of malice or humor there. He’s deadly serious. He’s looking at me like he’s the luckiest man in the world.
And I have his underwear in my bag.
This man is so getting the best sex of his life tonight.
The lawyer and his wife are looking at me again, but this time like they’re trying to work me out, not trying to work out what college I went to.
“I’m having a great time,” I tell Hudson. Because suddenly I am. I have his boxers, he has my heart. It’s almost a fair exchange.
“Good.” He turns and walks away, and I watch him with my eyes trained on his behind. His boxer-less, perfect ass.
And it’s all mine. At least for tonight.
* * *
We make out like teenagers on our way back to the hotel, and the driver kindly decides to ignore us, discreetly pressing the button to raise the screen between the front and rear seats. Hudson’s hands are in my hair, on my sides, sliding over my legs, and his lips are devouring mine like we’re both starved and haven’t just eaten a three course meal.
It’s only when the passenger door next to Hudson is opened by an equally discreet doorman that I realize we’re at the hotel and have probably been stopped here for a few minutes.
I breathlessly thank the driver as Hudson leans forward to tip him, then we escape into the hotel, managing to keep our hands off each other for as long as it takes to get into the elevator.
When we step inside, the car is empty, and Hudson jabs the button for the penthouse like he hates it. As the doors close he turns to me, his eyes so dark it takes my breath away.
“That fucking dress,” he says. “Do you know how hard it was not to touch you knowing that you’re not wearing any underwear beneath it?”
I smile, because he’s right. It’s impossible to wear a bra with this dress. And of course he has my panties.
He steps forward, his jaw looking almost mean. “I had to put a napkin over my lap so nobody could see me getting hard,” he says, as I step back against the elevator wall. He reaches out, his hands slamming on either side of me. Caging me in.
“That’s the fun part of no underwear,” I tell him. “You get to lose control.”
“I damn nearly got arrested.”
I grin at him. “I’ve always wanted to have sex with a perp.”
He lowers his head until it’s against mine. “You are the most annoying, aggravating, beautiful, funny woman I’ve ever met.”
“And the first to get your underwear?” I ask.
“Without a doubt.”
Oh I love that. I love it so much. “It made me hot looking at you,” I whisper. “Knowing I have them.”
“I want them back after tonight.”
“Oh no.” I shake my head. “I’m framing them and putting them behind the bar like a hunting trophy.”
“I’d laugh, but I believe you,” he says, cupping my face with his hand. “Jesus, I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you right now.”
He pushes his body against me, as though to prove his point. I can feel how hard he is. It sends a shot of desire through my body.
“Then take me,” I whisper.
“I will. When you’re in my bed.”
“It’s not your bed, it’s the hotel’s.”
“I paid for it. It’s mine.” He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. His body is so tense I swear I feel every muscle tighten against me. Like he’s restraining himself.
And I don’t want him to be restrained. I want him to come undone.
“Are we talking about the bed or me?” I whisper.
“Definitely the bed. I don’t think I could ever pay for you. I don’t have that much money.”
“How much do you think I’m worth?” I flutter my eyelashes at him, because this man has game.
“More than any man can afford.” His lips almost brush mine. They’re so tantalizingly close. Then the elevator door opens and he takes my hand, dragging me into the private lobby that leads to the living room with the stupidly perfect view over Manhattan.
But he doesn’t stop to appreciate it, too intent on the door that leads to the master bedroom with it’s oversized bed that I’ve been eyeing all afternoon. We’ve barely made it inside before he’s scooping me up like he can’t wait any longer, and is carrying me to the bed.
And then I freeze.
I know he feels it. Because he stops walking and freezes too.
I start to tremble. “Sky?” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”
“The bed.”
He blinks. “Okay. Tell me what about the bed?” He frowns. “Did somebody hurt you? In a bed?”
Oh god. “No.” I shake my head. “I think I just got it all built up in my mind. That if I sleep with you in a bed…” I trail off. I can’t tell him, I can’t.
“What will happen? You’ll turn into a frog?”
My lips curl. Don’t make me laugh . He already has the trifecta of perfection. He’s gorgeous, he’s grumpy, and he gave me his boxers.
I can’t deal with him being any more perfect right now.
“I can’t fall in love with you,” I whisper, and as soon as it’s out of my mouth I feel like I’m careening to the ground, even though he’s still holding me tight in his arms. Slowly, he puts me down, his brows knitted as he cups my face.
“Would that be so bad?” he asks me.
“Yes.”
He tips his head to the side. “Because you think I’m an ass?”
“No. Quite the opposite. You’re too much,” I confess. “You’re rich and you’re confident. You walk into a room and everybody turns to look at you. Your family adores you, your daughter thinks you’re some kind of God, and I’m starting to feel the same.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I speak. His lips are parted, like he’s trying to follow along.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about, but I think you have me confused with somebody else,” he says. He cups my face in his warm hands. “And you are so, so fucking wrong.”
“What about?” I whisper.
“I’m the one batting outside my league,” he tells me. “You’re irresistible. From the moment I saw you I wanted you. Then you opened your mouth and pretty much told me to fuck off and I wanted you even more.
“Everybody loves you. My sister, my daughter. Your brother. The whole damn town. You stepped off that ferry and lit everybody’s world up.” He lowers his brow until it touches mine. “You’re worried about falling in love with me? Well I’ve already fallen in love with you. I fell a long fucking time ago and I think it broke every bone in my body.”
I swallow, but the lump in my throat still stays. He loves me? I can’t quite understand it. And yet he doesn’t look like he’s lying at all.
“So let’s do this slowly,” he says. “Tonight is about you. I’m going to sit down on that bed and you tell me what you want. You want to put our pajamas on and go to sleep? We can do that. You want to talk all night, until I prove to you that I’m not going anywhere? We’ll do that, too. Or if you want to sleep on the bed alone, then I’ll take the floor. The last time I did it was the second best night of my life.”
“Sleeping on my bedroom floor was the second best night of your life?”
He nods.
“Why?” I ask him.
“Because it was the first night you let me take care of you.”
Ka-pow. My heart shatters into tiny pieces. I swear I can feel it scattered against my ribcage. “Stop it,” I whisper.
“Stop what?”
“Stop making me fall.”
“I don’t know how to stop,” he says. “Tell me how to.”
But it’s too late. I think we both know that. The tide is high and the pull is hard and no amount of swimming will ever conquer nature. “I want you naked,” I tell him. “On the bed.”
“Okay.”
To my shock he does as I ask, taking his jacket and tie off, then unfastening his shirt. I watch as he shrugs that off too, revealing his taut, muscular chest.
His eyes are on me as he toes his shoes off. Then he flicks his fly open and my breath catches as he pulls his pants down.
He’s hard. His thick length presses against his stomach as he follows my instructions and sits.
I kick my own shoes off, unable to tear my eyes away from this man who’s willing to make himself vulnerable to make me feel better.
“I hate you,” I tell him, pulling my dress down over my breasts, the fabric brushing against my nipples as I slide it further until I’m naked too. “I hate you for making me love you.”
He exhales softly.
“You gave me your boxers,” I whisper, dropping to my knees and crawling to him like a cat in heat. “Nobody’s ever given me their underwear.”
“How many men have you asked?” There’s a hint of jealousy to his voice that I like.
“Just you.”
I reach his feet and incline my head to look at him. I’m still on all fours, naked. His gaze is so intense it makes my nipples harden. Sliding my hands up his calves, I feel his muscles tense beneath my touch, until I get to his thighs, my fingers tracing every line, every sinew.
And then I touch his cock.
It’s smooth and warm and so hard. I’m in love with this part of him, too. I curl my hand around him, feeling him pulse, hearing him groan.
Then I slide my mouth over him. My heart is thudding against my ribcage, my pulse so fast I swear it’s almost unreadable. I lick and suck this strong, stubborn man until he’s so damn close to oblivion he’s vibrating.
“Sky…”
I love the way he calls me that. I love the way he tangles his fingers in my hair, hard enough to feel it, but not so hard it hurts. I love the way he groans as I scratch his inner thighs with my nails, then move up to his balls, my mouth warm, my tongue adoring, finding a rhythm I know can take him over the edge.
This is for the boxers. For sleeping on the floor. For loving me.
“Skyler.” His voice is more urgent this time. I look up and he’s shaking his head. “Not in your mouth. In you.”
I don’t need telling twice. I’m so hot and needy. I push him back on the bed and practically climb him like he’s my favorite piece of play equipment. I close my hand around him again, but this time I rub his tip against me and he presses his mouth to mine urgently, like he needs to kiss me to survive.
I kiss him back, lowering myself down on him until I’m so, so full. And yet I need more. We talked last week about not using condoms, since I’m on the pill and we’re exclusive. And it adds a whole new layer of intimacy as I feel him raw inside of me.
I start to rock, kissing him, scratching him, feeling him grind against me in the most delicious way. It sends shockwaves through my body, making my movements stutter. He slides his hand down my hips, steadying my movements, making love to me in a way I don’t think anybody ever has before.
I slide my fingers into his hair, my eyes open, on his, as we rock and tease and grind until we’re both breathless.
“Now,” I whisper. “Fuck me like you hate me.”
I don’t need to say it twice. He rolls me onto the bed, still inside of me, then starts to give me exactly what I need. Long, mean thrusts, his hand between us, touching me, his mouth hard against mine.
“Hudson…”
“Give it to me,” he mutters against my lips. “I need you to come.”
I need to come too. I’m bucking underneath him, tears in my eyes because I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good. My nails scrape his back, my lips move to his neck, my teeth digging into him.
And then I start to convulse, white hot pleasure coursing through me. I bite him hard and he lets out a shout, his back arching as he comes hard inside of me. It’s animalistic and it’s almost painful and it’s everything I need right now. He holds me tight against him, still spilling inside of me, as I flutter around him again and again.
It feels like minutes before I can breathe. Before he pulls out and rolls onto his side, his hand cupping my face as I try to work out what my own name is.
“Are you okay? Was it too hard?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I whisper, pressing my lips against him. “More than fine. Completely fucked in the best way.”
He laughs softly, pulling me against him so my head is nestled into his shoulder, his hands softly stroking my hair.
“Next time I’ll be more gentle,” he mumbles sleepily, his fingers pressing softly against my scalp in little circular movements.
Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.