37. Eva
EVA
That night, I return to my apartment just to grab some clothes and a few personal things.
When I walk in, the place is silent. A thin layer of dust covers everything.
There’s a note in my mailbox from my landlord, saying he's praying for my safe return.
Hudson stands just inside the living room, looking around at the bright colors and cheerful decor. I suppose it matched who I was before everything changed.
The electricity is off. Not a shock, since I haven’t paid the bill in months.
I can smell the rotting food in the fridge before I even open it. I light a few candles and grab a working flashlight to start packing.
“I’ll have to come back and clean this out,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Blech. That stinks. Putrid.”
No response.
I glance back over my shoulder.
Hudson hasn't moved.
He's still standing in the middle of the living room, staring into the dark apartment.
At the bright throw pillows on the couch.
The framed photos on the wall.
All the little pieces of a life that stayed frozen while I was away.
“What?” I ask. “The smell got to you?”
“No.” His voice is quiet. “It’s just…”
He trails off and shoves his hands into the pockets of his joggers.
I pause, watching him.
“It’s just what?” I ask.
"Standing here..." he says slowly. "Seeing all this..."
His gaze drifts around the apartment.
"I keep wondering what your life would have looked like if I'd never touched it."
His jaw tightens.
"And Lucian would probably still be alive."
That hits me hard.
"I can't stop thinking about it."
For a moment, we both stay silent.
I shake my head.
"You're giving yourself too much credit."
He finally looks at me.
"I'm serious."
I gesture around the apartment.
"You didn't create my father."
His expression darkens.
"You didn't create Martin."
I step closer.
"You didn't build two criminal organizations."
His jaw flexes.
"You made choices."
I hold his gaze, not letting him look away.
"Some really spectacularly bad ones."
He lets out a small huff.
"But so did I."
My smile fades.
"And somehow we're still here."
A long silence hangs between us.
I bite my top lip.
Because there's something I've needed to say for a long time.
"I hated you."
His expression doesn't change.
"You probably still should."
"But I don't."
I meet his eyes.
“At first, it was just this weird, messed-up chemistry,” I say. “And I hated that too. Hated myself for it.”
I exhale softly.
“But it wasn’t just me, was it?”
“Of course it wasn’t,” he says gruffly.
I walk over and stop in front of him. For a moment, we’re both at a loss for words.
Then I wrap my arms around his middle and lean against his chest.
He stiffens immediately, unsure how to react.
But I keep holding him anyway.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I say quietly. “For either of us.”
His heart is pounding so hard I can feel it through his shirt.
"We both probably need a lot of therapy," I admit.
I can feel his heartbeat under my ear.
"But I'm still here."
I hug him tighter.
"I know what happened. I know what you did. And I still choose you."
He finally wraps his arms around me, his big hands resting gently on my back. He lowers his head until his chin rests on mine, holding me close, maybe a little too close.
“Why are you so comfortable?” I ask with a weepy laugh. “It's like hugging a furnace.”
“Genes,” he says. “Mostly shitty ones. Sorry.”
I smile into his chest.
“Mine aren’t great either, but maybe we can take the good parts and help them grow.”
He stays quiet.
“I had a good mom,” I continue softly. “You did too.”
“She tried,” he says.
“Then maybe we can try too.”
“I can try,” he says quietly.
I pull back enough to look up at him.
“I want you to take me home with you tonight.”
A slow smile appears at the corner of his mouth.
“And when we get there,” I add, “I want you to take me to bed. I’d take you to bed here, but it smells like death, and that’s not working for me.”
That finally makes him laugh.
“Alright, princess,” he says. “Finish packing.”
I head back to my bedroom and grab the last of my things. When I come out, Hudson takes the bag from my hand without a second thought, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Then we head downstairs to the parking garage, where his Mustang sits in my assigned spot.
The drive back is silent, but my mind is racing.
* * *
Tomorrow, I need to replace my phone, call my staff, figure out what to say, and explain months of missing time without implicating Hudson.
But beneath all that, something bigger weighs on me.
Lucian is dead.
My father is dead.
Everything I thought my life was has disappeared.
And I'm so tired.
Tired of grieving.
Tired of thinking.
Tired of carrying the weight of things I can’t fix.
Those thoughts follow me all the way back to Hudson’s apartment.
They’re still swirling in my mind when he sets down my bag and lifts my chin with his finger.
“Hey,” he says softly. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
I exhale.
“My very long to-do list.”
“Want me to help you forget about it for a while?”
I meet his gaze and find his eyes dark and hungry. I nod.
“Good,” he says.
He leans in and kisses me, slow and sweet at first, but it quickly turns hungry and rough. I gasp into his mouth as he presses me back against the wall.
Then his hands are under my thighs, and I'm lifted effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist.
The way he does it so easily sends a rush of heat through me.
“Is this okay?” he asks against my mouth, breath uneven now. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s good,” I whisper. “You won’t.”
He carries me through the apartment to the bedroom, where he lays me gently on the bed. I claw at his hoodie, and he uses one hand to pull it over his head, along with the t-shirt underneath.
God, just looking at him.
He’s huge, scarred, and beautiful in a way that almost doesn’t make sense.
I reach out and drag my fingertips down his chest.
He closes his eyes and moans at my light touch, and when he opens them, he looks positively feral with lust.
“I want to see all of you,” I say, nodding to the significant bulge beneath his pants.
His gaze darkens instantly.
Hudson kicks off his shoes and pulls down his sweats and boxer briefs in one quick move. Suddenly, he’s standing there naked, his cock hard and already leaking. I reach out and stroke him, then sit at the edge of the bed and urge him closer.
He moans, grabbing my hair as I take him in my mouth.
“Fuck, yeah,” he breathes.
I start slow, licking around the head and enjoying how his body reacts. But Hudson can’t hold back for long. His hips push forward, his cock hitting the back of my throat as his grip tightens.
I moan with him in my mouth and feel him shudder.
“Eva…”
His voice sounds completely wrecked.
I want him to come like this. I want to take everything from him.
But suddenly he pulls back hard, breathing heavily.
“Too much,” he pants. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last.”
I barely register it before he pulls my clothes off just as quickly.
My hoodie, my bra, my sweatpants, and my underwear, all coming off piece by piece.
When I’m finally naked, he leans back slightly and says low and rough, “Move back for me.”
I do.
“Spread your legs.”
Heat floods my face, but I obey.
Hudson goes still.
Just looking at me.
And looking.
His eyes move over my breasts, down the curve of my stomach, and lower, to where I’m already wet for him. His jaw tightens when he sees it.
“You have any idea what you do to me?”
The question sends another pulse of heat through me.
His eyes lift to my mouth, swollen from kissing.
He moves slowly, crawling up the bed toward me. His lips touch my forehead, then my cheekbones and jawline, still gentle. He kisses my lips, under my chin, my chest, my collarbone, and the soft skin under my arms.
He kisses every inch of me, finding spots I didn’t even know were sensitive. It makes my pussy ache for him, moaning and begging for more.
“Look at you,” he says quietly. “So responsive.”
By the time his mouth finally reaches my thighs, I’m aching for him so badly it almost hurts.
“Hudson,” I whine.
“I know,” he says softly, spreading my legs wider with his hands. “I know, baby.”
And then his mouth finally finds my throbbing clit.
Relief crashes through me so hard I nearly cry.
My hips thrust to meet his eager tongue, now swirling that bead of nerves as his fingers slip inside, one, two, three.
Slow at first.
Then deeper.
“Oh my God?—”
“That’s it,” he says, his voice rougher now. “Tell me what you feel.”
His mouth works me harder, his tongue circling my clit while his fingers curl deep inside me, making my whole body tense up.
“Hudson—”
“Do you like this?” he asks, his tone naughtier than his words. Teasing. Possessive. “Like what I do to you?”
I can barely think straight.
All I can do is moan.
His teeth catch lightly on my clit, and I gasp hard.
“Words,” he warns softly.
"I love it," I gasp.
The pressure keeps building.
"I love what you do to me."
A low sound rumbles out of him.
"Yeah?"
I nod desperately.
"Please don't stop."
“That’s my girl,” He growls, seemingly pleased with my response. “Good fucking answer.”
He moves faster, thrusting deeper as I squeeze my thighs together, loving the friction. He’s finger-fucking me hard, so hard that I know I’ll feel it tomorrow, but I love it. I want more and more.
“Hudson—”
The pleasure crashes through me all at once.
For a moment, I stop breathing. My whole body tightens, skin tingling and toes curling as the orgasm hits me so hard it leaves me dizzy.
Hudson lets me ride the wave, and only when the orgasm turns to aftershocks does he move to position his massive cock at my entrance. He doesn’t ask if I’m ready. Doesn’t wait. He rams inside of me, and I cry out, another orgasm immediately on the heels of the first.
“Fuck, Eva,” he growls through gritted teeth. “What do you do to me? Fuck, you feel good. Pussy feels so good. Come for me, baby.”
I hang on for dear life as he pistons inside of me, hard and fast as I come on his cock.
“Keep coming. Give me everything you have.”
This orgasm feels endless. My heart races, my breathing is loud, and my skin is slick with sweat. Hudson kisses the corner of my mouth and my neck. I arch, and he catches my nipple with his mouth, tugging it gently between his teeth.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes. More. That. Yes.”
He pulls out just to focus on my breasts with his hands, mouth, and teeth. He sucks and bites, and I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
I should hate that, but instead, I find myself wanting the reminder.
When he slides back inside me, he’s slower and more controlled. He moves carefully, our bodies fitting together, the friction burning between us.
Hudson holds me there, forehead resting against mine.
We are as close as two people can be.
But I still want him closer, so I wrap my arms and legs around him. We move together, and I’m already on the edge again.
“You’re mine,” he says, and not for the first time. “This body. This pussy. This mouth. All of it, it’s mine. Say it.”
"I'm yours," I whisper.
Tears run down my cheeks.
None of this makes sense.
There is too much history between us. Too much damage.
But none of it changes the way I feel when he holds me.
I look into his eyes.
"I love you."
He looks completely undone. He thrusts deeper and kisses me hard, almost desperately, his forehead pressed to mine as he holds me tighter.
“I have never wanted anything the way I want you,” he says roughly. “I will never take this for granted.”
“And you love me?”I ask softly.
His eyes close.
Then he opens his eyes and looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.