I sucked in a quick breath, shocked at this new addition to the story. “He told you that?”
Mira clasped her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, did you not know?”
“No, no, I knew.” I hadn’t known, of course. But what really struck me was the possibility that it could be true. I’d dismissed it when it had occurred to me before. Now, I couldn’t dismiss it so easily.
I also couldn’t think about it right then. Not when Mira still looked frightened that she’d said something she shouldn’t have. I tried to ease her. “It was crazy romantic that he bought the club. I just didn’t think he’d tell anyone.”
What I said worked. Mira’s face relaxed. “It is surprising. He’s usually so private about his emotions. You must bring out something in him.” She stepped away from me. “And this dress will totally bring something out in him or else he’s completely blind. You look incredible!”
She was right—I did look incredible. And when we walked out into the boutique, Hudson did more than merely smile and nod. He hung up his phone and gawked.
“Do you like?” I could already tell the answer from his hungry eyes. That look of his, it never failed to arouse me, never failed to make my panties wet.
He nodded slowly, seemingly speechless, and I marveled that I had brought him to that state. It made me feel more attractive and more powerful than I’d ever felt.
“Wow, Huds is at a loss for words,” Mira said, her hands resting on her pregnant belly. “Call Ripley’s.”
Ignoring his sister, Hudson walked up to me. “I’d take you in my arms,” he murmured, “but I wouldn’t be able to look at you anymore. You’re stunning, Alayna.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. This moment was for us, not Mira. I was beautiful to him and that made him all the more beautiful to me. It also made my ni**les stand at attention, an uncomfortable predicament when a corset already had my br**sts in a vise grip.
“Okay guys, I’d tell you to get a room, but I’m afraid you’ll use one of the dressing rooms.” Mira threatened to break the moment, but the intensity of it lingered. “I don’t have to ask if you’re buying this one.”
“We’re taking it.” Hudson didn’t take his eyes off me, proving the truth in his statement since he couldn’t stop looking.
A brief image flashed into my mind of him and me going at it right there on the showroom floor. But since we had spectators—and since, by my own decree it was a sex-free day—I looked away. The lapse in eye contact helped give me the strength to pull away as well. “I’ll get changed.”
Mira led the way, stopping at the door of the dressing room to glance at her watch. “Aw, crap, is that really the time? I’m totally late! Go on in. I’ll send Stacy to help you undress.” She hugged me quickly. “And it was so wonderful to finally meet you. I’ll see you tomorrow at the fashion show.”
I huffed at a strand of hair that had fallen over my face and entered the dressing room, not at all eager to encounter Stacy and her dagger eyes alone. While I waited for her, I reached behind my back to see if I could unlace the corset myself, snagging my fingernail on one of the threads. I was examining the nail, trying to smooth out the rough edge when I felt Stacy’s hands undoing the laces. She had so much hatred for me she hadn’t even offered a greeting.
I glanced up from my nail at her in the mirror. But it wasn’t Stacy undoing my corset—it was Hudson.
He met my eyes, pinning my reflection with a greedy stare. Slowly, without breaking his gaze, he continued loosening the laces of my bodice.
I didn’t stop him. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t stop him.
When he’d finished loosening my gown, his hands traveled to the spaghetti straps at my shoulders. I watched as he moved the straps over the curve of my bones and down my arms. The dress fell to the floor, leaving me in nothing but black strappy heels and my red thong.
Hudson’s eyes widened and my sex clenched.
I wanted him. Whatever I told myself about healthy and unhealthy relationships, it didn’t matter. I was already in this with him. If there was a point of attachment that would lead me to obsession, I’d already passed it. And admitting that made me sorry I’d ever tried to be anything different with him.
Hudson’s hands ran around my waist, meeting above my navel. Then while one hand traveled up to fondle my breast, the other moved under the band of my thong. I stepped my legs apart, an invitation for him to find my swollen bud. His lip twitched the slightest bit as he slid his fingers through my slick desire, parting the folds of my sex, and releasing the musky aroma of my lust. In that moment he knew how much I longed for him, embarrassingly wet as I was.
He continued to plump my breast that was suddenly heavy and tender as he flicked his thumb across my raised nipple. The attention he gave to my bosom magnified the action below, his pad returning to tease my clit, and I let out a breathy moan. He stretched his arm over my torso, supporting me as I weakened from pleasure and I closed my eyes to relish in the nearness of cl**ax.
“Alayna, watch.” Hudson’s thick voice at my ear startled my eyes open. “See how beautiful you are when you come.”
My sexual history had not been comprehensive. Dark rooms with half-drunk partners and clumsy fumbling hands. Keeping my eyes open during only ever happened on accident. Mirrors and public places were never on my fantasy list. But I watched his hand moving at my core, his thumb circling my sensitive nub, his finger dipping into my wet center. He was right—it was beautiful. It was beautiful how he stroked me, how he knew what to do to make me feel the way I wanted to feel, how my skin flushed and my back arched. It was beautiful how he held me when I jolted in his arms, my orgasm moving through me in one long eruption.
“Put your palms on the mirror.” His husky command and the anticipation of knowing what he was about to do sparked a new wave of arousal, even more intense than before.
Still shaking, I reached my hands out in front of me, his arms leaving me as soon as I had managed to support myself. Behind me, I heard his zipper, the sound raising my level of excitement, knowing his c**k was released and seconds away from being inside of me. The four-inch heels I still wore put me right at his level, and he pushed easily into my moist channel with a groan. “Fuck, Alayna!”
Our eyes met in the mirror, the connection between us frighteningly intense, and a panic rushed through me. He saw it, or sensed it, and he coaxed me through it, telling me he was with me, assuring me he’d take care of me, promising me he felt it too.