Chapter 8
Hudson
Ipull into the familiar neighborhood and watch as the gates close behind me. On one hand, it’s like they’re trapping me in here. On the other hand, if this is home, I imagine it’s nice to feel like you’re physically shutting the rest of the world out.
There are several stops on my route today, and I can’t get over how fucking creepy I feel for having already checked to see if Shannon’s package requires a signature.
Much to my dismay, it doesn’t.
I briefly think about ringing the doorbell just to say hello, but that’s crossing a line. Mood soured, I pull into the driveway and grab the envelope from the bin next to me. I scan it and am walking up the brick stairs when I see a flash of movement in the living room just beyond the foyer.
Maybe she saw me and she’s going to open the door and say hello. It’s not on me if she opens the door first. It would be rude not to ask how she’s doing.
I don’t even realize I’m squinting through the glazed glass, trying to catch a glimpse until she straightens up with her back to me and…oh, fuck.
My cock jumps so hard I’m afraid he’s about to ring the doorbell his damn self.
Shannon’s wearing some kind of unique, strappy, lingerie with a bodice like a corset. The dark, blood red piece makes her look like a vampire queen. Her toned legs are on full display as is her matching ass.
I’ve never seen an ass like that.
Please turn around, I silently beg.
As if she can hear me, she turns partially, and sets her camera up on the fireplace mantle before sitting back on the couch and spreading her legs.
I’m hard as steel as I watch her move back and forth from the couch to the phone, assuming she’s checking the pictures.
I damn near lose my fucking mind when she sucks a finger into her mouth and begins playing with herself. Although I can’t see what she’s touching, my imagination is doing an impeccable job of filling in the rest of the image.
I should stop this.
I should go.
This is so wrong. Not only is she unaware she’s being watched, this is another man’s wife for Christ’s sake.
Go back to the truck, Goddorah!
I’ve been here too long already. Dispatch monitors the truck GPS all day. If we’re stopped longer than four minutes, they check in to make sure the driver and the truck are okay.
I glance down at my watch.
I’ve been here six minutes to drop off an envelope that didn’t even require a signature.
Fuck.
Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away right as Shannon drops her head back on the couch, her shoulder moving with the increased speed of her hand. Walking away from this sight might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life…and I was a combat drone pilot overseas for four years.
I really don’t want to lose this job though, so I spin around to race down the steps of the porch. Unfortunately, I turn so fast, the scanner on my belt swings out and smacks the glass door loudly.
I don’t look back to see if Shannon heard it before climbing in the truck, checking in with dispatch, and driving away like my ass is on fire.
Unable to focus the rest of the day, I text Wendy as soon as my shift ends, silently thanking God I don’t work at the fire station again until tomorrow because tonight I need a release.
Wendy
Yeah, I’m free tonight.
My relief is soon replaced by guilt.
Hudson
Full disclosure, I need a distraction.
Understanding it might kill my chances, I admit that I need to use Wendy to block Shannon out of my mind. I don’t give her all the details because we don’t have that kind of relationship, but I need to be honest with her. I’ve done enough shitty things today.
Wendy
As long as you get me off, you can use me however you want. ;)
Hudson
Make sure you’re hydrated. See you at 6?
She sends me the squirting water emoji and I chuckle, feeling the pressure lighten in my chest.
I don’t bring women to my place. Ever. That’s my sanctuary and where I spend a lot of time with Cam and Ally.
I don’t want to have to worry about them coming across a rogue thong, sex toys, or edible lube.
I silently adjust my evening in my head and make a mental note to leave by five-thirty to get to Wendy’s place right on time.
Two weeks go by before I have another delivery for Shannon’s house. I’ve tried everything I can to stop thinking about her, but it’s no use. The more I fight it, the more I see her face and incredible body in my mind.
I called Knox to lament because Phoenix rarely takes anything seriously and Jake’s still in his happy bubble with Dylan, living their best lives.
I don’t want to add any stress to his life because he’s suffered enough already, and I absolutely hate the fact that I wasn’t there to help them when they needed it.
When discussing things with Knox, he tried to reassure me that I haven’t done anything wrong, explaining maybe this is my brain’s way of telling me it’s time to settle down.
That would be lovely, however, if my brain could have given me the memo without using a married woman to get my attention, that would have been even better.
It also seems like overkill, considering settling down was already what I wanted to do.
When I pull up to Shannon’s house, I see a familiar black Ferrari in the driveway and I immediately know it was the same one I parked next to that night I went out with Phoe.
My stomach sours at the thought that maybe her husband came home for a lunch quickie, but honestly, good for them.
I hope she’s happy and fulfilled. Maybe knowing that will help me move the fuck on from this inappropriate obsession.
It’s hotter than Satan’s asshole today, and I have sweat dripping down my neck, back, and ass crack.
In an effort to stave off a heatstroke, I’m wearing a t-shirt with the company logo instead of my uniform button-up.
It’s a little tight because it’s usually worn as an undershirt, but it’s all I’ve got.
Grabbing the box—the fucker weighs about a hundred pounds—I make my way to the door.
I press the box into the stone wall on the front porch, leaning my weight into it so I can free up a hand to knock.
A man opens the door and my teeth clench. I have no reason to dislike him, other than he gets to share dinners with Shannon, but she’s his wife for fuck’s sake. They have a kid which means they’ve shared a helluva lot more than dinner.
I stare for a second. He’s not what I pictured as her type.
As if you know anything about her type, dumbass, my subconscious chides.
The man is maybe six feet tall. His brown hair contains several gray strands, but it makes him look distinguished rather than old.
It’s his posture that makes him appear much older than Shannon, however old she may be.
His rounded shoulders are at odds with the intellectual look he seems to be aiming for with his suit. He’s lean, but soft.
I shake my brain, trying to force a smile.
“Oh, good it’s here,” the man says, not even looking at me. “Be careful with that. It’s an ancient vase.” Now I’m annoyed. Just pronounce it v-a-s-e, like everyone else in this country. It’s not a vahz just because you have money.
“Sure thing,” I say out loud. “Can you sign here?” I exaggerate my southern accent, just to emphasize the difference in the men we are.
I bristle at how quickly I’ve allowed this man to get under my skin.
As I hand him the electronic pad, I try not to be too obvious that I’m looking for any sign of Shannon, but I don’t see her.
“Where would you like this?” I ask, pulling away from the wall and bracing the weight of the vase against my chest.
“In here would be fine.” He gestures for me to come in the house and follow him around the corner into what is clearly his office. Technically, I’m not allowed to go inside people’s homes, but I’m stalling, hoping like hell Shannon makes an appearance.
My efforts are rewarded when a moment later, I hear light footsteps on the staircase.
“Oh, Hudson, hi!” she whispers enthusiastically.
Her long hair is flowing over both shoulders and her blouse is unbuttoned to a distracting level, revealing the swell of her perfect breasts.
I’m assuming her unembarrassed greeting means she most likely isn’t aware I caught her pleasuring herself two weeks ago, even though I can’t get the images out of my head.
My cock twitches at the memory, and disappointment wraps me in a cold embrace. Part of me wanted her to know. The masochist in me wants to know how she’d react.
“Hey, Shannon.” I set the vase down and rub my hand across the back of my neck, suddenly much warmer.
“So, you’re the guy who brought my wife flowers,” her husband says. I’d be impressed if he sounded angry, but he actually sounds almost…bored. Like he wants me to know he knows I brought them, but also that he’s so cocksure about Shannon’s love for him that I pose no threat at all.
Is that true?
Wait, I’m not a threat. Am I? Do I want to be?
Ugh, well played, asshole. Now you’re in my head.
I stand up taller and inhale in a way that puffs my chest out just a little more. “Hudson Goddorah,” I say, sticking my hand out. “I, uh, woke your daughter up and your wife was very unhappy about it. I felt I should apologize.”
The man must not be as cultured as I expected him to be because he makes no comment about my last name before his eyes run over my exposed arms where the veins in my biceps and forearms are now popping thanks to the weight of the box.
The man actually chuckles. “Gregor Hartley.”
The name sounds familiar, but standing in Shannon’s presence means I have no bandwidth to figure it out, so I let the moment pass.
I grip the man’s hand a little firmer than necessary in that way men do to win the pissing match. Greg goes limp fish and sneers. “Well, thank God my wife is accustomed to a certain lifestyle or I might be concerned about leaving her here all day knowing you’re out there driving around.”
Did this prick just insinuate I’m poor?
Sure, I obviously don’t make his kind of money, but being rich isn’t just about dollar signs. I think about Monica, Camden, Ally, Jake, Dylan, Phoenix, Knox, and hell, even Wendy. I’m plenty rich.
Shannon looks horrified. “Gregor!”
Gregor claps me on the shoulder. “Ah, he knows what I mean. It was a compliment. Strapping young thing like him, he’s still got plenty of time to figure out what he wants to do with his life.”
I’m usually better at biting my tongue. You learn a lot in the military. Understanding that your opinion doesn’t matter is one of the first things that gets drilled into you. But today, all my training goes out the window.
“With all due respect, I’m thirty-years-old, I served two tours overseas, and now, I’m doing exactly what I want with my life.” Okay, so that’s not entirely true, but close enough for this argument.
Shannon’s eyes flare and I hear her breath hitch.
“I apologize for my husband’s rude comments, Hudson. There’s certainly no need to justify yourself.”
Gregor gives me a scathing glare, letting me know he isn’t happy about his wife taking my side.
“Just a reminder that you can’t always judge a book by its cover,” I tell her, returning the dig to her husband.
She works to hide her smile by folding her lips in on themselves before speaking again. “Oh, before you go, I found this on front porch a couple weeks ago. I assume it belongs to you?”
Shannon holds out the electronic pen that usually stays clipped in my machine. I’d wondered where this had gone.
Then I realize it must have flung out when my scanner smacked her front door.
Shit.
“Oh, uh, thanks. We lose these things all the time,” I say, fumbling to slip the pen in my pocket.
This is the first time I’ve ever been nervous around a woman. The look in her eyes is telling me not only does she know I saw her, but she wants me to know she knows. And just like that, I have my answer about how she’d react.
Which is really fucking bad.
My heart does a flip in my chest. A dangerous flip, I might add because her husband is still standing right here looking back and forth, between she and I, as we share this secret.
Gregor clears his throat as if to remind us of his presence, although the gesture isn’t needed. His terrible cologne is singeing my nose hairs and no way could I forget he’s here. “Well, thank you for bringing that in.” He starts to walk toward me, ushering me out the front door.
“Anytime.” I smirk. And just to be a bit of an asshole, I add, “Next time order something with a little weight to it. I like to get my workout in throughout the day and save myself a trip to the gym.” I flex my right biceps as I jog down the stairs, laughing the whole way to my truck.
I finish the day and am relieved when I walk in my front door. The silence is welcome after ringing doorbells, talking to people, and hearing the conversations over the walkie-talkie all day, but sometimes it gets lonely.
I briefly think about calling Wendy again, but after the last time, despite being up front, I felt like trash afterwards. When I closed my eyes to tip over the edge, it was the first time I thought about a woman other than the one I was balls-deep inside of.
So instead of calling, I pour a finger of top-shelf tequila—something Dylan got me hooked on—and sit down to relax while desperately trying to talk myself out of doing something stupid, but I lose that fight quickly.
With my ability to produce rational thoughts lowered just enough for me to peer over into the territory of irrational thoughts that sound like a good idea, I scour social media for Shannon Hartley.