CHAPTER FOURTEEN HUDSON
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HUDSON
I take her soft hand in mine and lead her to the master bedroom.
I'm not a man who hesitates, but my hand is actually shaking as I reach into the nightstand drawer for the ring I bought the first week I met her.
I pull it out, the deep blue fabric of the box catching the silver light, and I feel my throat tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the dry Texas air.
"Hudson?" she whispers, her voice small, fragile in a way that makes me want to burn the rest of the world down just to keep her warm. She looks at the box, then up at me, her breath hitching in her chest.
"I’ve been waiting for the right moment to give this to you.
I didn’t want to rush things," I say, my voice gravelly and thick.
I sit on the mattress and pull her down next to me.
"I bought this the night you rejected me in the Montoya lobby.
I walked out of that building feeling like I'd been slapped and woken up all at the same time. "
I flip the lid open. The ring isn't a ten-carat showpiece designed to brand her as a piece of arm candy. It's an antique, a simple one-carat diamond set in delicate gold filigree. It's gorgeous. It’s understated. It's perfect. Just like her.
Tinsley's breath hitches, a sharp sound that cuts through the room. She looks at the ring, then back at me, her eyes filling with a shimmering, liquid light. "The night we met. Hudson, you didn't even know me."
"I knew you stole my heart on the spot," I admit, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her soft skin.
"I walked out of that meeting and went straight to the jeweler.
I knew even then that I'd spend the rest of my life trying to earn you. Please tell me you’ll marry me. "
She lets out a sob, a broken, beautiful sound of relief that lands right in the center of my chest. The fears she carried about 'losing herself' to a man like me, the walls she built to protect her independence from the world, I can see them vanishing in the depths of those aqua eyes.
She lunges forward, her arms wrapping around my neck so hard I nearly topple backward.
"Yes," she chokes out against my skin, her tears hot and damp against my neck. "God, yes, Hudson."
I slide the ring onto her finger, and it fits perfectly.
The air in the room shifts, growing thick and heavy with a different kind of urgency. It isn't just the frantic heat of the last few weeks, it's something worshipful. This is a celebration of a life created and a life promised. I push her back into the pillows, my hands framing her face.
"I'm going to fuck you so slowly," I murmur, my forehead resting against hers, my eyes locked on hers. "You're so beautiful, Tinsley. So fucking perfect. And you're carrying my child. I can't even wrap my head around how lucky I am."
I strip the shirt and lacy bra from her body, my eyes roaming over her luscious curves.
I lean over and take one of her tight nipples into my mouth and suck hard, savoring the way she cries out my name, her nails raking down my back.
Every touch is deliberate, a promise of the future I intend to build around her.
I move lower, my hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her toward the edge of the bed so I can kneel between her legs on the floor.
I don't rush. I drag her yoga pants down her legs and toss them aside.
Then I spread her folds with my thumbs. Her sweet pussy drips with a need that mirrors my own.
The scent of her, citrus and raw arousal, fills my head until I can't think of anything else.
"Hudson, please," she whimpers, her head tossing back against the headboard. "I need… I want to feel you. Now."
"Not yet," I growl, the possessiveness in my voice echoing in the large room.
I lean down and bury my face in her heat, my tongue circling her clit before I take it into my mouth, sucking her deep.
Her scream echoes around the room, and her legs wrap around my shoulders, locking me in place.
She tastes like salt and sunshine and everything I've ever wanted.
I grip her thighs, holding her legs open for my tongue as I worship her, moving from slow, broad strokes to sharp, flickering laps that have her weeping my name.
I work her with my mouth until she's shaking, her muscles jumping under my hands.
When I finally stand to shed my own clothes, my cock is rock-hard, straining with a pulse that feels like it's keeping time with her heartbeat.
I watch her eyes track me, those sharp aqua depths darkening with a hunger that makes my blood boil.
She reaches out, her fingers grazing the head of my cock, a touch so light it nearly breaks my restraint.
I move over her, the head of my cock grazing her entrance, teasing the slick heat of her pussy. I lean down, my mouth hovering just inches from hers, our breaths mingling in the dark. "Look at me, Tinsley. I want to see you when I enter you. I want to see you realize that I'm never letting you go."
She meets my gaze, her expression raw and open, her soul laid bare.
I push inside, inch by thick inch, feeling her stretch to accommodate me.
She's so tight, so soaking wet, that I have to grit my teeth and close my eyes for a fraction of a second to keep from coming instantly.
I fill her completely, my weight supported on my forearms as I look down at where we're joined.
"Fuck, you feel good," I hiss, beginning a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm. I'm not pounding into her yet; I'm savoring the friction, the way her pussy clamps down on my cock with every thrust. I feel every ridge, every pulse of her internal muscles.
I increase the pace, the heavy oak bed frame knocking against the wall in a steady, frantic beat.
I watch her face as her orgasm begins to build, her eyes fluttering shut as she loses herself in the sensation.
I reach down, my thumb finding her clit and grinding against it while I hammer into her, my movements becoming rougher, more desperate.
She comes with a shattering cry, her body convulsing around me, the internal ripples of her pussy pulling me over the edge with a violence that leaves me breathless.
I let out a low, guttural groan and empty myself into her, my release hitting her in hot, thick spurts.
I collapse against her, our breathing the only sound in the room, the silence finally feeling like a sanctuary instead of a threat.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled in sweat-damp sheets and the heavy weight of our new reality. The moon moves across the sky, casting new shadows in the corners of the room. “I love you, sweetheart,” I breathe against her soft neck.
“I love you, too.” As she snuggles tight against my side, I realize I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. Life doesn’t get any better than this.