: Chapter 19

To say the hotel room is frosty would be an understatement.

In the car, not a word was said.

You could have heard a pin drop in the elevator.

And now that we’re in our room, the only sound filtering through the space is the heavy breathing of a very pissed-off Hudson.

And I don’t know why he’s mad at me. I’m not the one who started this entire thing.

Actually, I killed it at the club before he tackled me like a three-hundred-pound linebacker looking for his fiftieth career sack. I had a very enjoyable tea with Sheridan, where we discussed the dress fitting I needed to schedule. She showed me pictures of her gown and the flowers and the venue. It all looked so dreamy. We ate scones; she introduced me to clotted cream and taught me how to make the proper cup of tea. Note: As per the English, add milk before the tea is poured. Very important to protect the china. Apparently.

When we met with the guys out in the courtyard, it seemed like they’d had just as good of a time, not to mention, neither of them smelled like cigars, so a plus for the ladies.

It was all good…until it wasn’t.

And if he expects an apology from me, he is sorely mistaken. If anything, I deserve an apology because my ass was the one that was on full display.

I was the one who was mooning the courtyard, giving them a bit of an afternoon delight.

A little bit of crumpet with their tea, if you know what I mean.

And that was humiliating.

It was like he reverted back to his old ways again, didn’t trust that I knew what I was doing and tried to fix a problem before there was even a problem to fix.

So…yeah, he should not be mad at me. He should be⁠—

“That was humiliating,” Hudson says from the bedroom doorway, looking pissed and ready to fight.

Well, join the club.

“That was humiliating? Uh, yeah, I know. I was the one ass up, waving my pasty butt at the club.”

“Because of your own doing.”

“My doing?” I say on a scoff. “My doing? You’re being serious? You thought that was all from my doing? Sir, that started with your mediocre tackle.”

“Because you were about to hit your croquet ball into Buckingham Palace.”

“Uh, exaggerate much? Buckingham Palace isn’t that close to the club.”

“Yes, I know; that’s how hard you were about to hit it.”

“Oh my God, drama queen. I was not. I was going for the double hoop,” I say.

“Why? There was no need. Everyone did the single.”

“Yeah, amateurs. I saw the potential of the bonus swing. I wanted two swings to get to hoop three.”

“This wasn’t a fucking prize competition, Sloane. This was a friendly game of croquet.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t in the description. I wanted to represent the Hoppers. I do recall your competitive spirit while in Bora Bora.” I tap my chin. “I believe you were the one dry humping your brother to pop a balloon on the beach.”

“I was not dry humping him. I was sitting on his lap.”

“Thrusting your hips to get the balloon to pop.”

“Don’t act stupid.”

“Excuse me?” I say from the bowels of my stomach as I stand from where I’ve been sitting on the couch. “Did you just call me stupid?”

“No, I said you were acting stupid.”

“Explain to me how that’s better.”

“I’m not questioning your intelligence, just your personality.”

“Umm, not better,” I shoot back.

“Well then, don’t act stupid,” he says without an apologetic tone.

“Wow, you really are trying to get kicked in the penis in the middle of the night, aren’t you? I’ll have you know, my donkey kick is powerful and precise, not something you’re going to want to mess with.”

“Once again, the maturity is really showing.”

My mouth falls open as I watch him spiral into an ass right before my eyes. “You’re kidding me, right?” I ask. “You’re really going to bring that up again? I thought we moved past that, Hudson. And for your information, I showed more maturity than you back there. You were the one knocking me to the ground. I was trying to help. I was the one being the good wife.”

“You poked me in the balls in the middle of a courtyard. That’s you being immature.”

I shake my head. “Don’t freaking test me, Hudson. Do not test me.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks, looking so unimpressed.

I get into a fighting position, arms in front of me, ready to strike. “I’m nimble, quick, and can sting. Also, not afraid to bite.”

“I like biting,” he says, his eyes going dark.

The motherfucker.

“Don’t.” I point at him. “Don’t you dare start with that bullshit. No sexual innuendos. Talk about maturity. You’re over here yelling at me and then turning it sexual.”

“I just said I like biting. That’s it. You’re the one who turned it sexual.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Please, if you didn’t mean it in a sexual way, then how the hell did you mean it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, taking a step closer. “What matters is that what happened at the club was a disaster, and we’ll be lucky if we’re invited back.”

“They’ll invite us back. They didn’t seem to care. People were laughing.”

“Yeah, because that’s what I want, people laughing at us.”

“Jesus, Hudson, pull the stick out. Have a sense of humor. Won’t hurt you.”

Deadpan, he says, “I walked out of there with your hat covering my ass. There’s nothing funny about that. They’re not letting us back in.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that when you chose to wear such tight pants then, without freaking underwear! It was a recipe for disaster from the beginning. Ever think about that? Or maybe you shouldn’t have tackled me.”

“You were going to hurt someone. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to send the ball into orbit. Not to mention, you touched my balls in public. Fucking poked them.”

“I was confused at what I was looking at,” I shout back. “I thought it was gum or something.”

“Jesus fuck, you didn’t think it was gum.”

“I don’t know.” I toss my hands up in the air. “I had no clue what happened back there; I blacked out.” I touch my head. “I honestly feel concussed after you ostrich-ed me.”

“If you say that one more goddamn time,” he says, exhibiting a great deal of irritation.

“It’s true,” I shout. “You ostrich-ed me, sent my head right into the dirt, ass out. I’m wearing that thong you just had to buy, and now everyone at the club has seen my ass in that thong. Everyone. Lucky that I’m the only one that saw your bubblegum balls.”

“Do not fucking call them that.”

“Well, that’s what they were. Do you wax down there? Jesus they were bald.”

His jaw ticks, his teeth clenched together. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you, Sloane.”

“No, you’re trying to blame me for what happened.”

“Because it is your fault,” he shouts, his arms thrusting out. “It all started with you.”

“It started with you,” I yell back. “You could have just let me hit the ball. You were trying to ride in like some hero, and you fucked it up. This is on you, not me. Don’t try to blame me for this shit. It’s insulting that you think you can.”

Fed up with him, I head toward the bedroom, attempting to move past him, but he stops me with his hand to my stomach.

“Let me by,” I say. “I don’t want to play these games with you, Hudson.”

“I’m not playing games, Sloane,” he says, his voice dark and dangerous. “This is my livelihood, and not just mine but my brother’s and my business partners’.”

“Then maybe think about your actions before you act on them,” I say.

“You’re really not going to take any blame on this?” he asks.

“Why should I? You anticipated something in your head that never happened and created a scene. You embarrassed me, you embarrassed yourself, and now you’re trying to figure out a way to place blame elsewhere.”

“You were not innocent in that entire situation, Sloane.”

“Sure, I didn’t handle myself well as my thong-covered ass was flapping in the breeze; excuse me for being awkward and uncomfortable, but I never would have been in that situation if you didn’t try to stop me from swinging in the first place. It started with you. So you can fuck off.”

I move past him and head straight into the bathroom, where I shut the door and stare into the mirror, feeling angry and disappointed. Just when I think we have a moment of clarity, a moment where things are moving along for us and we are actually sort of becoming friends, something like this happens. Hudson spirals, and the man I can’t stand shows up.

It’s not fair, and I’m not going to stand for it.

The bedroom is dark when I finally remove myself from the bathroom. I took another shower because, well, I felt dirty after that conversation with Hudson. I spent a good deal of time brushing and braiding my hair and went to the bathroom once more.

I move around the bed, where my phone is plugged into my charger—looks like the husband did something nice—and I pull back the covers and slide under them.

I will tell you right now, if that man attempts to come over here and snuggle into me, he’s getting the donkey kick right to his bald balls.

Once I’m settled, I hold my breath, waiting in anticipation for the scoop of his hand to my stomach, but when it doesn’t happen, I feel equally disappointed and relieved.

I didn’t want to snuggle awkwardly with him, but I also sort of love it when he pulls me into his chest.

But tonight my anger might just outweigh any interest I have in snuggling.

I close my eyes and attempt to relax my body, not letting our argument or the arrogant man next to me make me lose any sleep.

Tomorrow is going to be a better day.

Tomorrow we’re going to learn how to dance, and when I say “we,” I mean “me.” I will dance with myself if I have to. I refuse to be in this man’s arms more than I need to be.

Nope, not after today. Not happening.

I adjust my head on my pillow, happy with my plan.

Now to just fall asleep⁠—

“I’m not happy with myself,” Hudson says, the soft tone of his voice breaking over my skin.

No, do not feel sorry for him.

Do not feel emotions toward him.

Let him be unhappy with himself. He should be.

“This is not how I envisioned things going when we left my dad’s business.”

Still not paying attention.

Still just trying to go to sleep on my own terms.

“We grew up with everything at our disposal,” he continues. “We had the fancy schools, the expensive cars, the latest and greatest gadgets, but we never really had our dad’s approval.”

Ooof, that cuts deep. But still, not paying attention even though he’s finally opening up like I’ve wanted.

Not falling for it.

I’m mad…

“When I started working for him, I thought that maybe that’s when he’d tell me he was proud of me. Sure, graduating college didn’t to do it, but maybe…just maybe working for him and him seeing my potential, that was going to do it. But as time went on, I started to see that winning his pride, winning his affection, was going to take more than just doing a good job.” He clears his throat. “So, I worked harder. While Haisley took off and did her own thing and Hardy took over the almond business, I focused on following in my dad’s footsteps. And with every passing year, with every new deal secured or idea that I saw come to life, it was never… good enough. Nothing has ever been good enough.”

Crack.

Did you hear that?

That was me breaking, only slightly. But breaking just enough to pay more attention to what he’s saying.

“Then I started to see who he really was as a man. Conniving. Deceitful. Ready to ruin someone’s life for his own benefit, and I knew, I knew there was no way I wanted to be like him. I didn’t want his approval. I didn’t want him to be proud. I actually wanted him to be disgusted with me because I wasn’t about to make the same deals he was. I wasn’t about to put myself forward over everyone else. That’s when Hardy and I broke off from our dad, when we contacted the Cane brothers and started a co-op. We invested, and we invested quickly. Luckily, so far, it’s paid off, but I see the lasting impact my dad’s business has had on the world, and I feel it’s my responsibility to reverse that.”

I rub my lips together, my heart sort of breaking for him.

“I know I’m chasing a dream that almost feels impossible, but with my dad hanging a lawsuit over our heads, trying to steal our business and take down his own sons, I feel this tremendous pressure to rise above and prove that you can create a successful business without destroying the people around you to do so.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Joining the Mayfair Club gets me closer to expanding the business, but also, it’s… it’s something my dad never did, despite wanting to be part of it. He wanted the status. He didn’t care what the club values; he cared about the merit. And I know that because of that, he never received a member recommendation. So being there today, being able to do something my dad wasn’t able to do, fuck, it felt good, Sloane. I felt like I was accomplishing something, and when it all fell apart, I just felt like I could hear my dad in the background. I felt like I could hear him laughing at me, and I lost it. I lost it on you, and I never should have. None of it was your fault. I’m sorry.”

And there it is.

The apology.

A sincere apology.

One I feel like men in his position would never even think about offering to someone like me. And here he is willingly handing it over.

“I really am sorry.”

He shifts on the bed, and I can tell he turns away toward his side.

Dammit.

Why does he have to do this to me? Why does he need to make me feel empathy for him when that’s the last thing I want to feel? I don’t want to have any emotions toward him, but ugh, I can’t imagine the pressure he goes through daily, knowing he has a powerful father hovering over him, just waiting for him to make a mistake. The pressure must be so incredibly heavy to shoulder.

I might know a thing or two about that. Jude has been the father figure in my life, a strong one at that. I would be lost without him, but he also has a hard time accepting me for who I am, for the person I’ve grown to be.

And even though I shouldn’t feel this way toward Hudson, I don’t want him shouldering all of that. I don’t want him having to worry alone. I want him to be able to lean on me. To use me for an escape, to talk to me about these things instead of letting them live inside himself and eating him alive.

So I turn around and scoot toward him and tug on his shoulder, rolling him to his back. I slide my hand over his thick, well-defined pecs and lean on my elbow as I stare down at him. “I’m sorry, too.”

He shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize. This is not on you. It’s on me.”

“Hudson—”

“I’m serious, Sloane.” He cups my cheek. “You’re doing so fucking great. You really are. I know how hard you’re working. And I’m over here being a dick to you because I’m frustrated with myself. I don’t… Fuck…” He looks away and then quietly says, “I don’t want to be my dad.”

“You’re not,” I say, even though I don’t know his dad very well. I mean, Reginald Hopper knows how to put on a show. When we were all in Bora Bora together, he played the loving father role, but I know that’s not the real man that he is. I know from Jude that Reginald is a devious man, someone who, like Hudson said, would do anything to get his way, and we saw that clear as day when he manipulated the situation with Maggie and Brody. Hudson it not like that.

“I am,” he says quietly.

I tip his chin, so he has to look at me. When his eyes meet mine, I shake my head. “You’re not, Hudson. If anything, you’re protective, overly protective. If you were like your father, do you think you’d make sure that I was comfortable, that I was able to help my sister purchase the house that we so desperately wanted to keep in our family? No, you probably would have turned me away for good.” I run my finger over his forehead and down his cheek. “And if you were like him, instead of holding out and never kissing me, never fucking me, you would have taken what you wanted without any consideration of my feelings. That’s not you.”

“I could never take advantage of you or your body,” he says softly. “Never.”

“Exactly, Hudson. That’s because you’re not like your dad. You’re nothing like him, and you can’t think that way. You are so much better than him in all aspects. I know enough about him and I know enough about you to be confident that there’s no comparison. None.”

“How can you say those things?” he whispers. “After all the shit that I’ve put you through. How can you say that?”

“You haven’t put me through anything I haven’t agreed to,” I answer. “This was my idea to get married. I agreed to being Sheridan’s bridesmaid. What’s going on between us has nothing to do with what you’ve put me through and everything to do with me knowing exactly what I decided to do.” I lean in closer and whisper, “And I’ve agreed to this.” Then I press a kiss to the tip of his nose and pull away.

“Fuck,” he quietly whispers but then puts his arm around me. “Come here.”

He lowers me to his chest, where I rest my head, and he pulls me in tight, his arm circling me. His hand finds my thigh and then pushes my shirt up, leaving my hip bare to his palm.

A warm sensation spreads through my body as I rest against him, realizing that I haven’t had this form of comfort, not ever really. Where human touch can lead to warmth. Where a clasped arm can lead to protection. This right here is new.

And I…I love it.

This isn’t sex.

This isn’t carnal attraction.

I thought I could have a physical relationship without it going deeper, but this is intimacy. This is so much more than I’ve ever had. And as much as I try to keep my walls up around this man, because he’s kept his up, this moment, with him holding me tight, this could very well break down those walls.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thank you for what?” I ask as I feel so freaking comfortable resting on this man. I may not want this to ever end.

“Thank you for understanding me.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” I say. “That’s what being married is all about. We understand each other.” I rest my hand on his bare stomach and let my thumb trail over his stacked abs.

He blows out a heavy breath and says, “Careful, any lower and you’re going to turn me on.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” I say as his hand slides up my side, pulling my shirt with it.

“No, we wouldn’t,” he says as his thumb connects with the side of my breast.

I roll my teeth over my lip as my hips move in closer to him. “Do that again and I might straddle you.”

“Can’t have that,” he says. “Maybe you should, uh…roll over, face away from me.”

“Maybe,” I say. “Think it would be better?”

“Yeah.” He lets out a short breath. “I do.”

“Okay.” I push off his chest and then stare down at his handsome face. I glance at his mouth and then back at his nose.

His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips, and I swear with one little movement, he has me panting, wanting more than he’s been willing to give me.

I lower my mouth, mere inches from his face, and I wait a moment to see if he might break, to see if he wet his lips for a reason, but when he doesn’t make a move, I kiss his nose one more time and then turn away from him. He follows my lead, scooting in behind me, and because he yanked my shirt up, he slides his hand over my midsection easily and pulls me into his nice warm body.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” he says.

“No, I’m not.”

“Why not?” he asks, speaking closely to my ear.

“To torture us both.”

“Well, you’re doing a damn good job.”

“Thank you. I will take that compliment with pride.”

He chuckles and smooths his hand up my stomach. “Fuck, Sloane.”

Two words.

Just two words and my entire body lights up.

“You want this, don’t you?”

“More than you fucking know.”

“Then just have me. Please, Hudson.”

I feel him shake his head as his hand glides under my breast. “I can’t.”

“Then you can’t feel me like that. You’re making me wet.”

“How wet?” he asks.

“Really wet.” And then because I can’t stand this push and pull, I move my fingers between my legs, slide them up my slit, then reach up and swipe them across his bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, you taste… Jesus, Sloane.”

“Don’t you want more? Don’t you want to fucking bury your tongue between my legs and feast?”

“Don’t,” he says, his hand sliding across the underside of my breast again. “Fuck, please don’t.”

No, I’m over this.

I’m so over this restriction he’s put on us. It’s nonsense. We both want each other. Why not take it?

“Don’t you want me between your legs, sucking your cock? Don’t you hate knowing the last cock I ever sucked was Devin’s?”

He pauses, and I know I struck a chord.

It’s not a fair chord.

I played dirty, but come on!

Please, someone break this man.

When he doesn’t move or say anything, I realize how much of a line I crossed.

“Hudson, I⁠—”

“Don’t.”

“But, Hudson, I’m⁠—”

“Don’t,” he says more firmly. “Just fucking don’t.” Then he reaches over me and tugs on the drawer of the nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

He moves back to his position and then hands me my vibrator. With our gazes connected, in a deep, growly voice, he says, “Fuck yourself.”

“Wh-what?” I ask.

“You heard me. Fuck yourself.” When I don’t move, he adds, “Now.”

Shaky but also so fucking turned on by being ordered around, I move the vibrator between my legs and turn it on, letting the vibrations buzz through me and relax my entire body.

“Fuck,” I whisper as my eyes shut and I sink into the mattress.

Hudson’s hand finds my stomach again and then glides up, under my shirt, and when I think he’s about to touch my breasts, he doesn’t. He slides his forearm between my breasts right before his hand clamps around my neck.

God, yes.

I love everything about the way he’s commanding me, controlling me. His large palm, pressing down on my throat, owning me.

His lips lower to my ear as he says, “I might not be able to fuck you, and I might not be able to experience your mouth, but I sure as fuck am going to lie here and listen to you come.”

My teeth roll over my lip, and I shift the vibrator so it’s right against my clit. I know it will only take seconds in this position.

“That’s right,” he whispers. “Pretend it’s my cock, sliding against your wet cunt.” He breathes in sharply. “Pretend it’s me, hovering over you.” His thumb presses into the spot just below my ear.

“God, yes,” I whisper as my body starts to climb.

“Pretend I’m so out of control from that slick pussy that I start thrusting over you, wishing that maybe just one thrust…one thrust would slip inside you.”

“Fuck,” I say as my pleasure starts to coil. “Hudson, I…I want you.”

“Pretend, Sloane. Now with one taste, one thrust, I’d never be able to stop. I’d own your cunt. I’d claim it as mine, no one else’s.”

The vibrations send chills down my spine, my body starting to reach its apex.

“I want your cock. Give me your cock.”

“No,” he snaps. “But you will have my cum.”

He sits up, pulls his cock out of his briefs—his long, thick cock that’s pulsing for attention—and starts stroking himself. He sits on his knees, hovering over me as one hand returns to my neck and the other pleasures himself.

“That’s it, you fucking filthy girl, fuck yourself. Let me hear you finish.”

“Fuck,” I gasp. “Touch me.”

“No. Touch yourself.”

Frustrated, I flip my shirt up to my neck, exposing my breasts to him and catch the absolute torture as he stares down at me, at my rock-hard nipples.

“Jesus fuck,” he says as he wets his lips, his hand loosening on my neck.

“Touch them, Hudson. I know you want to.”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Pinch my nipples. The minute you do, I’m coming. Anything, Hudson. Please, anything.”

“No,” he says with such control that it makes me nuts. I drop the vibrator, lift up, and remove the shirt completely, leaving me totally exposed to him. I spread my legs and start shooting the vibrator in and out.

“I need your giant cock. I need you to give me what I need. Show me you’ll be my best fuck ever. I know you will, but show me.”

“Make yourself come, god dammit,” he says, his breath losing control has he continues to stroke himself, now faster. “Fuck yourself…now, Sloane.”

He’s close—I can see it in his posture, in his tense muscles, in the veins rippling in his neck.

“Fuck,” he shouts and then moves his cock closer to my mouth. I raise up only slightly and then when his eyes are shut, I drag my tongue over the tip.

His eyes blink open, his hand stops, and the look of utter torture falls over his expression.

“Delicious,” I say.

Anger rolls through him, and he pins me down again by the neck, brings his cock right up to my mouth, and then starts pumping again. He stiffens and then starts coming as he shouts profanities.

“Motherfucker, take this cum. Take it.”

His cum falls into my mouth and around my neck, and it’s the most delicious and thrilling thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s so freaking erotic watching him come undone that in a matter of seconds, I’m shaking, convulsing, and calling out his name as I finish as well.

When I’m done, I turn off the vibrator and lie there, marked as his. Again.

And just like the night before, he presses his lips to my ear and growls, “Mine.”