Chapter 23
Liv
My head hurt, and my stomach was roiling when Hudson’s kisses woke me up. I didn’t know how people could eat so many sweets. I remembered eating sugary cereal and Pop Tarts in school, but candy had never been my thing, and now I knew why.
I groaned, and he took it as a sign to palm my breast.
“I’m going to be sick,” I groused, pushing his hand back and almost falling out of the bed.
“Are you serious?”
“Do I not sound serious?” My stomach convulsed, and I ran to the bathroom, holding my mouth and making it to the toilet just in time.
“Shit,” I heard him mutter over the loud, unladylike sounds coming from my body as all of last night’s treats vacated it.
He was behind me, pulling my hair back within seconds. Embarrassment stretched through me, and I pushed him away just as another retching convulsion hit me.
“Cut that out. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ve seen you throw up before. Remember the funnel cake?”
The thought had what remained of my sugary feast and the glass of merlot I’d topped it with surging forth until I was dry heaving.
“Is it a bad time to tell you I told you so on the glass of wine you ended the night on?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hoarse as I ripped a piece of toilet paper off and wiped my mouth. I reached up and flushed, then flopped back against his legs. Cool hands wiped my forehead, pushing loose strands of hair from where they stuck to my face.
“Even throwing up, you’re ravishing.”
I moved my head so that I could see him looking down at me, and I grimaced. “Remind me never to listen to your food recommendations again.”
“Come on, you enjoyed them while you were eating them.”
I groaned as my stomach revolted at the thought. A kiss landed on my head before he stepped away, making sure I didn’t fall back by bracing me with his hand first. As he turned the shower on, I realized he was still naked, his firm butt muscles clenching when he stretched to adjust the shower head.
He returned to me, scooped me up, and walked us to the shower. I was still completely naked as well. The number of times we’d had sex before we both passed out had left me too exhausted to worry about clothes. Little did I know what awaited me the next morning.
With a quick move, he curled me further into his chest and tested the water temperature.
“Perfect. Let’s get you washed up, and I’ll leave you snuggled up while I go take care of things.”
“Did you oversleep?” I asked, wincing as my feet hit the tub.
“No, Olivia, it’s only four-thirty in the morning.”
Another groan came from me.
“Better stop that or I’ll think twice about leaving my morning wood unsatisfied.”
“You’re gross.”
“Normally you like it, but I can’t say I’ve ever had a woman run to the toilet and throw up when I made a move on her.”
The vicious sting of jealousy hit me as his hands lathered my body up.
“Thought we were staying in the moment,” I snarled, immediately regretting it.
His eyes snapped to me, and he stepped back. “It was a joke, Olivia.”
“Well, I didn’t find it funny. I’m sick, and you’re talking about other women.”
He hovered over me, closing the space between us. “Stop it.”
But I couldn’t because I felt weak. Having him care for me, losing control of my stomach.
And then there was the day. Saturday. Two days before I would leave for home.
My defenses lifted, and my shields came crashing into place.
Vulnerability had a way of causing a fight reaction in me.
Until this week, when it seemed I couldn’t step from its shadow long enough to make my stance against it.
“Olivia.” The warning was clear, the frown accentuating his mood, a storm brewing in his eyes like shadows stretching to cover the daylight.
I bristled, trying to move around him. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll have someone else occupying your bed once I leave.”
His arm snapped out, and he shoved me against the shower wall, my breath escaping in an exhale that juxtaposed the soft patter of the water. Anger etched creases around his eyes as he stepped against me, his hand encircling my neck as he lowered his face to mine.
“I know what you’re doing, Olivia.” Fingers splayed over my throat and up my chin, firm yet soft at once.
“Pushing me away to make this easier. I didn’t see it when we were young.
The way you started distancing yourself, making excuses to stay at your dorm and not with me.
Picking small fights until the day you picked one I couldn’t win, and you backed me into a corner.
” He lowered his head, his face contorted in pain, and my chest lurched as if it were punching its way to him.
“Now you’re doing it again because you don’t like me seeing you like this.
Because you don’t want to face what lies ahead.
Well, neither do I.” His cheek brushed over mine, his stubble scraping sensually across my skin, and my entire body woke.
“I see you for what you are, Olivia, and who I see isn’t weak and fearful.
She’s tough and smart, and amazing. And, fuck, she’s worth loving, so let me love you and stop fighting me every time you get scared. ”
A retched sound escaped my throat, like a dying animal had taken root there and let out its last cry. Water poured over us, the cold tile pressing into my back as emotion fractured the hues in his eyes.
His fingers buried further in my hair, and he smashed his mouth against mine, sending heat searing my body and the air fleeing my lungs.
“Fuck, you taste like vomit,” he grumbled, stopping the kiss and turning his face into the streaming water. Catching it in his mouth, he spat it back out and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Well, you’re the one who kissed me.” I didn’t know what else to say. His declaration was still bounding through my mind. The plea and the promise in it.
“You’re hard to resist. Let’s get you cleaned up and brush those teeth. Maybe get some mouthwash in there.”
With my cheeks heating from his teasing, I shoved him, but he didn’t move. It was like pushing against a brick wall. All muscle and no give.
“Your morning breath isn’t any better.”
He let out a loud laugh. “You’re cute.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
He lathered up his hands with shampoo and motioned for me to turn. “I wouldn’t think of it. And don’t think I’m going to spoil you like this all the time. You’re already spoiled, and I’m working on breaking you in. Kind of like an unruly horse.”
I tried to turn to scold him, but he tugged my hair.
“I am not an unruly horse.”
His fingers sank into the strands of my hair, massaging my scalp.
“I know,” he said, giving my shoulder a kiss. “How’s your stomach?”
My stomach. I’d forgotten all about how explosive it had been not twenty minutes earlier. As if in answer, it churned.
“It’s been better.”
He rinsed my hair, and I closed my eyes at the gentle touches, letting myself relax into them.
Sending the worries cascading into the recesses of my mind until I had no choice but to deal with them.
Let me love you. His last statement swirled in its place.
That I was worth loving. I had never thought I wasn’t, but maybe I’d never had to give voice to it to have my actions give it credence.
Had I pushed everyone away because I thought I was less than Hudson saw me? Less than how others did?
I swiped water from the tip of my nose as he ran conditioner through my hair. The only sound between us was the tapping of the water on the tub floor.
No, I never had an issue with confidence.
But that didn’t mean I hadn’t pushed people away.
Barricaded my heart, especially after Hudson.
I’d never gotten over the pain, and to open myself to more of it seemed impossible.
People weren’t dependable. They left, they used you for your money, they pretended to care, they died.
A shudder shook my body. There had only been four people I’d ever loved in my life: my father, my mother, my brother, Hudson.
My father had turned my love away, putting toxicity and abuse in its place.
My mother had died, leaving me when I needed to hear her tell me that love was more important than money, needed her arms to hold me and tell me to do what my heart told me to do.
And I’d left Hudson, giving up his love for the only remaining person who still loved me, my brother.
Hudson’s arms encased me, pulling me into his chest as tears streamed down my face.
“That’s it,” he said, thinking it was my stomach that had caused my reaction. “You’re on the couch for the rest of the day. When I’m done with the horses, I’ll run into town and get you some soup. Maybe some of those damn cat socks you have a fetish for.”
I laughed, the sound strange when paired with the tears that still leaked from my eyes. He laid a kiss on my head and stopped the water. Within seconds, he had me bundled up in a fluffy towel, rubbing it over my hair like I was a child.
“I can do that myself,” I said, keeping my eyes from his. Not wanting him to see that I’d been crying again. I swore I was going to tape my tear ducts shut if they didn’t stop overworking.
Calloused fingers turned my face so that I couldn’t avoid his gaze. His brow crinkled, those worried creases forming around his eyes again.
“I take it back,” he said, and I scrunched my eyes, not understanding. “I am going to spoil you because you’re not spoiled. I was wrong.”
“I’m a billionaire. I’m definitely spoiled,” I argued, forcing a smile.
His gaze didn’t waver. “Not in the ways that matter.”
My mouth parted with my inhale.