But this wasn’t his bed. This was the club. And whether I freaked out or not, mixing work with sex was never a good idea.
Ah. Was that what David had been saying when he broke it off with me? What a moment for understanding to click in.
I put my hands on the edge of the table. “I, uh, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. I need to go. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
I stood and he did too.
“I wish you wouldn’t. But if you must…” He sounded needy, reflecting how I felt.
I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I’d stay. “I’ve got to get to work.”
I moved to the door and placed my hand on the knob. But Hudson’s palm pressed on the top of the door, holding it closed and trapping me between him and the wall.
He lowered his head to my ear. “Wait, Alayna.” His breath tickled and burned simultaneously. I closed my eyes, taking it in, bearing it. “I apologize for overwhelming you. That wasn’t my intent. But I want you to know that whether or not you decide to help with my situation, I will continue to seduce you. I’m a man who gets what he wants. And I want you.”
Um, holy wow.
Turned on did not begin to describe how his statement made me feel.
Then his mouth was on me, nibbling at my earlobe. I drew in a sharp breath. Involuntarily, I let my head roll to the side, granting him better access.
And, man, did he take what I gave, nipping a trail down my neck, sending ripples of desire through my belly. I moved my hand off the doorknob and grabbed his arm to steady myself. He curled his other arm around me, his hand settling on my breast. I gasped at the contact, leaning in to his touch.
He kneaded my breast as he nuzzled his face in my hair. “I should have told you earlier,” he said softly. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight. I can’t keep my eyes off you. Serious and sexy wrapped into one package.” He pressed against me and I could feel his erection at my lower back. “Kiss me, Alayna.”
It was so hot how he used my name freely. As if it was his to use. And in many ways it was. Almost no one called me anything but Laynie. He’d claimed my name when he claimed me.
All that was left was for me to accept it.
His mouth was waiting as I turned my head. Instantly, he captured mine with his own and I whimpered. He slipped his tongue in possessively and skillfully, urging mine to come out and play. His kiss was just as demanding and confident as he was, his firm lips driving the tempo, stealing my breath and sending a firm buzz to my lady parts. God, imagine his lips down there…
I shifted my body, needing more contact, and instinctively, he turned too so we were face to face. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I pulled him deeper, wanting to feel him in every part of my mouth. He knew what I needed, licking and stroking into me, as his hands slid down to clutch my ass.
I wanted all of him. Screw my shift and any other excuse I’d made to myself during the course of the conversation. Even if it led to obsessing, I needed him inside me, and not only with his tongue. I rolled my h*ps against his, begging for him to touch me there, to ease the ache at my core.
Hudson responded, moving his hands from my behind to my shoulders. Then he gently pushed me away, breaking our kiss, but leaving his hands on my shoulders as if trying to hold me at that distance.
My mouth felt empty and cold as I struggled to calm my breathing. Hudson’s breaths were equally ragged, and he panted in rhythm with me. As my brain returned from a state of blissful haze, I became uneasy, unable to understand his sudden retreat.
Recognizing my concern, Hudson moved his hand to brush my cheek. “Not here, precious. Not like this.” His other hand wrapped around my neck and he pressed his forehead against mine. “I will have you beneath me. In a bed. Where I can adore you properly.”
His statement was a promise. A sensual threat that had me itching to make it come to pass.
But I had to get to work. And he was right. A fast f**k in the bubble room would not nearly be enough for what I wanted with Hudson. No, needed. Hudson was far from what I wanted. But I’d gone beyond that now. I had to have him, bad for me though he may be.
I closed my eyes as Hudson trailed a hand down to my bosom and reached inside. My eyes startled opened when, instead of feeling his fingers on my breast, I felt my phone being removed.
He unlocked the screen and dialed a number. A moment later I heard his phone ring. “Now we have each other’s numbers. I expect you to use it.” He replaced my phone inside my bra cup, his eyes lingering on my cle**age before pulling me in to brush his lips across mine. “Call me when you’re ready. Tomorrow.”
He kissed me swiftly and then was gone, leaving me to wonder if I’d be “ready” to call him as soon as tomorrow. And if I could wait that long.
I woke up right before noon the next morning when I heard my phone buzz an incoming text. It was plugged in on the nightstand next to me, but I wasn’t ready to wake up, having gotten to bed after six.
Lying with my eyes closed, I grinned into my pillow and recalled the events of the night before. The things Hudson had said to me, the way he’d kissed me, touched me—my heart sped up at the memory. Had all of that really happened? My obsessive relationship disorder made it really easy for me to imagine that things happened between me and others that actually hadn’t. It had been several years since I had fallen into those old habits. Now, was I doing it again?
No, I wasn’t making it up. I couldn’t make up a kiss like that. It had happened. And I had wanted more to happen. But in the morning with distance and fresh eyes, I could see so much better how it shouldn’t happen. As much as I wanted him, I was already thinking about him way more than was healthy.
I went through the steps of recognizing unnatural fixation in my mind:
Did I think about Hudson to the point that it affected my work or daily life? I’d certainly thought about him a lot after he’d left the club, but I’d managed to work my shift without a problem.
Did I think he was the only one for me? No way. In fact, I suspected I shouldn’t be mixed up with him at all.
Did I believe I would never be happy if I didn’t see him again? I’d be disappointed, but not devastated. Well, probably not devastated. All right, I’d be devastated.
Did I call him or visit him obsessively to the point of stalking? I didn’t know where he lived or worked. If I was fixating, I’d have figured that out before I’d gone to bed that morning. I didn’t even have his number.