: Chapter 21

The sound of the hotel door closing wakes me from my slumber. It takes a few seconds, but I blink my eyes open, letting them adjust to the light pouring in from the gauzy curtains where the sun is radiating a glow across the room. I shift my body, twisting toward the other side of the bed, looking for Hudson, but when I come up short, I sit up taller, feeling a wave of pain push through me.

Fuck, that hurts.

I glance around the room, looking for any sign of Hudson. When I can’t see him, I let the blankets fall from my chest and reach for my shirt that for some reason is not on the edge of the bed. I slip it on over my head and head straight for the bathroom where I spend a few minutes brushing my teeth and using the bathroom.

When I’m washing my hands, I glance in the mirror, and I’m stunned when I find a lightly colored bruise traveling down the column of my neck. Shocked, I lift my shirt and look over the rest of my chest, taking in the marks that mar my skin.

Hudson was here.

Flashbacks to last night flit through my mind as I let my shirt down. I knew things would be different with him, but I never thought they would be like that. I never thought I’d feel a sense of being protected as he claimed me, marked me, possessively took control of me. He didn’t shy away from what he wanted, what I wanted. He didn’t hold back or treat me like I couldn’t handle a more intense experience. It was as if he saw me as his equal for the first time, like he fully respected me, and that’s a feeling I can’t ever forget.

I straighten out my hair before heading to the living room, where I glance around, looking for him, but I come up short. Disappointment washes through me. Concern. Fear.

He left.

It’s a red flag, a man disappearing after the night we shared. They should never leave and make you feel alone, lost, like you might have done something wrong. And yet I take a seat on the couch, attempting to tell myself that everything is okay.

That he’s not running off.

That he’s not regretting the night before.

That maybe he went for a jog or a workout…or that he needs to call his brother because he thinks this was the biggest mistake of his life, and now, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

I walk back to the bedroom and slip on a pair of pajama bottoms, then return to the living room. I check the terrace, just in case I missed him out there, but nope, he’s gone, and he took his phone with him.

No doubt he’s making the call.

He’s probably trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. Looking for help, assistance, anything to make him feel better about his choices.

I sit back on the couch and pull my legs into my chest as tears start to well in my eyes.

This is stupid. You shouldn’t be crying over this. You said you weren’t going to get invested, and here you are…investing.

No, you will not sit here and be sad.

I stand from the couch and find my sandals.

If anything, I’m allowing myself to be sad, but I will have coffee and a croissant while I’m sad.

I change out of my clothes in the bedroom—goodbye pajama pants I had on for a minute—and switch into leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I pull on socks over my leggings and go to the bathroom, where I throw my hair up into a messy bun, pulling two strands from the side to frame my face.

Pleased, I snag my phone from the nightstand and head out of the hotel room to the elevator. I’m the kind of girl that keeps everything on her phone, credit cards, mobile hotel key. If I ever lost my phone, I’d be lost myself.

I half expect to see Hudson in the hallway for some reason, but when I don’t, I keep my head held high. You’re fine.

Everything is fine.

This is what he was afraid of, attachment. So get it together, Sloane.

When the elevator doors open, I get in and press the lobby button before leaning against the wall.

That kiss though, God—it was everything I expected and more. Soft and deep, like we were connecting on a different level, a higher level, one I never would have expected with him given how closed off he’s been. And yet, he opened up last night. Something happened to him, something Hardy told him that made him open up. If I only knew what it was.

The elevator opens, and I’m about to get off when I realize I’m not at the lobby level. An older woman walks onto the elevator and smiles at me right before doing a double take.

“My goodness,” she says, pressing her hand to her neck. “Are you okay?”

Shit…I forgot about the bruises.

“I am.” I put on a smile. “Don’t even ask, one of those incidents you wouldn’t believe if you heard it.” I chuckle. “Let’s just say I’m never playing croquet again.”

She laughs, thankfully. “Ah, a dangerous sport if not played properly.”

“Tell me about it.”

When we reach the lobby, I think about going back up to the room to cover up but then skip it because who cares. The croquet story worked; I’ll use it again if I need to.

I head out of the lobby and across the street to Joe and the Juice. Before I can do so, the door opens and Hudson walks through with two cups of coffee in hand and a bag.

“Excuse me,” he says, not even noticing me.

“Hudson,” I say, surprised to see him.

He pauses and turns. When his eyes meet mine, they soften. “Sloane, what are you doing—fuck.” He steps in closer and bends to look at my neck. “Fuck, did I do that?”

I clear my throat and nod. “Um, yes, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Pardon me,” a man says as he tries to get through the doors.

Hudson and I move to the side, the bustle of the city going by us as he looks more closely at my neck.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I lost control.”

“It’s fine,” I say and then meet my eyes to his. “I liked it.”

“I shouldn’t have been so rough.”

I press my hand to his arm. “I liked it, Hudson. I liked it a lot.”

He wets his lips and then nods. “I, uh, I came down here to grab you some coffee and a croissant, but they don’t have croissants, so I grabbed banana bread.”

“You…you did?” I ask.

His brow knits together. “Why do you ask like that?”

“Because when I woke up and you weren’t in the room, I thought that maybe you were, I don’t know…regretting things.”

He leans in close and says, “I fucking came inside you last night. I claimed you as mine. Do you think I would regret that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s been up and down with you.”

“I know,” he says softly and then sighs. “Want to go for a walk?”

“I’d love that,” I say.

He hands me my coffee and the bread, and then drapes his arm over my shoulder and directs me down the street toward The Green Park. We don’t say anything to each other, rather we just enjoy the moment. It’s a beautiful day in London. Crisp morning air, blue skies dotted by white, cotton-like clouds, and the green of the grass is gorgeous, the leaves on the trees just starting to turn.

We reach a bench in the middle of the park, and he helps me down by holding my hand before taking a seat himself. He drapes his arm over the back of the bench and turns toward me. I do the same, moving in close so I can feel his body’s warmth. He cups my cheek and drags his thumb over my jaw, a loving look in his eyes.

I went from being on the verge of tears this morning, thinking this man regretted everything about last night, to him lovingly cupping my face while we have coffee in a park in the middle of London together.

What a roller coaster.

“I, um…I kind of panicked this morning when I didn’t see you,” I say, wanting to be fully transparent with him. “I thought you regretted last night, which I know is not the case now, and I get sort of emotional, which I hate myself for⁠—”

“Why?” he asks.

“Why what?”

“Why do you hate yourself for getting emotional?”

“Because this is casual, you know. Sure, we’re married, but we’re not married forever, and I don’t want you thinking I’m catching feelings or anything. I think I was just embarrassed, and that embarrassment morphed into emotions. Like I said before, the only other guy who⁠—”

“Do not say his name,” Hudson says while taking a sip of his coffee. “Do not fucking say his name.”

“Okay, well, he was the only other one I had a good time with, and I was nervous that, I don’t know, something was wrong with me or I don’t know. Just a lot of doubt.”

A kid on a scooter zooms past us, startling me right before Hudson takes my hand in his. He brings my knuckles to his lips and gently kisses them. When he pulls away, he says, “I’m sorry I made you feel any less than what you are, which is perfect.” He kisses my knuckles one more time. “In all honesty, I walked out this morning, looking to…hell, looking to put distance between us.”

I knew it.

I felt it.

His energy was off last night.

“But when I got downstairs to the lobby, I felt this stab in my chest, like I was doing the wrong thing.” His eyes meet mine. “You’re not the problem. You’re the release.” He clears his throat. “So I got coffee instead to bring back to you and talk. And I’m sorry that you felt insecure or embarrassed. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. Absolutely nothing.”

“Okay.” I stare down at my coffee mug. “So why were you going to leave then?”

“Because my life is fucked,” he says softly.

“What do you mean?”

He drags his hand over his face, looking visibly distraught. “Last night I got a call from Hardy. Our dad is suing us.”

“Suing you?” I say, my brows turning down. “Why exactly is he suing you again?”

“Because we started our own business, and he’s not happy about it. He’s not happy we left him. He’s not happy that we’re working with the Cane brothers and hates everything about our business model. And because he is not a normal human, he wants to take it out on us, and that’s exactly what he did. The threat has been hanging over our heads for a while now, but yesterday, the papers were served.”

“I’m so sorry.” I press my hand to his leg, scooting in closer. “That’s…that’s really shitty, Hudson.”

“That’s not even the worst part.” He shakes his head, laughing as if he can’t believe it. “He actually might have partial ownership over everything we’ve done since leaving his business because there’s apparently fine print about our trust fund money, that if we use it to invest in anything, he has part ownership.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Hudson nods. “Yes, so everything Hardy and I and your brother have done up to this point basically will benefit my father.”

“Oh my God, Hudson. That’s terrible.”

How could someone’s father do that to them? Someone who is actually family? I mean, my parents were never in my life; we were raised by my grandma, and it is true we often felt like we were a burden to her, but I could not imagine growing up with someone who is supposed to love me and protect me just automatically trying to destroy everything I’ve built.

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugs, looking utterly defeated. “No idea. I guess just wait and see how fucked we are after the lawyers review everything.”

“There isn’t anything you can do?”

“I really don’t know, Sloane. Honestly, I don’t want to think about it.”

“I can understand that.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring past my shoulder and sipping his coffee. After a few seconds, he asks, “Want to get lost today?”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes meet mine. “Let’s get lost, forget about everything, and just…not think. Just see the sights. Explore.”

“Don’t we have dance lessons today?”

“I’ll move them to tomorrow.” He smooths his hand down my neck, over my bruise. “Get lost with me. Help me forget for just one day.”

I swallow a sip of my coffee and realize that this could be the death of me, this minor request. Because I’m already bordering on feeling more for this man, but having him need me in this moment, having him lean on me, I know it will take its toll. Because I like to be needed.

I like to be needed by him.

I like the value I offer to him, especially since I’ve felt so lost, so unsure of myself. Seeing that I can have this kind of effect on someone, it brings me joy.

I know I will act like I’m not affected, even though deep down, being the person that helps him forget will only elevate this bubbling feeling inside me. It will elevate the attachment I already have. And that can be very dangerous because I said I wasn’t going to grow attached.

But look at his face. Those pleading, tormented eyes. I can see the toll his father has taken on him. I can sense that he’s teetering on breaking down, and I know that feeling all too well. I don’t want him to feel that way, so even though I know this will possibly be my undoing, I know there is only one answer.

“I would love to.”

Hand in hand, we make our way back into the lobby after a long walk through The Green Park and up the elevator to our room.

“I’m going to take a quick shower and get changed. I can be ready in about ten if you don’t mind me going without makeup.”

“You’re beautiful either way,” he says as the elevator doors part on our floor.

“Thank you,” I say as he opens the door to our hotel suite. I let go of his hand and head to the bathroom. On the way, I strip out of my shirt and drop it to the floor before looking over my shoulder to watch him where he stands at the door, observing me. I reach behind me and undo my bra and drop that to the floor before pushing my leggings all the way to the floor as well and toeing them away, leaving me naked.

His eyes never leave me.

His gaze so intense.

Wanting that connection with him, the one that I felt last night so this void that I feel in the pit of my stomach is no longer there, I strut up to him and slip my hand under his shirt when I reach him.

His fingers travel over my neck, along my collarbone, and over my breasts where he marked them last night. I push his shirt up even farther until he allows me to take it off fully.

God, he’s so hot.

How he has time to keep up with his physique, I have no idea, but I can’t get enough of it. I bring my mouth to his chest and start kissing his pecs, dragging my tongue over his nipples, then I lower down to his abs, licking every single crevice until I’m eye level with his growing erection.

Smiling, I slip my fingers into the waistband of his joggers and pull them down, releasing his cock.

It’s heavy in my palm as I start stroking it and watch it grow more and more with every stroke until he’s fully hard, stretching toward my mouth, ready for me.

I love sucking cock so much.

I love the control it gives me.

I love seeing a man fall apart because of my mouth.

It gives me intense pleasure.

I gently nudge him backward until he’s leaning against the wall and then help him out of his shoes, socks, and pants. When he’s completely naked, I spread his legs farther and cup him. While I occasionally lick the tip of his dick, I massage his balls in my hand, prepping him, getting him worked up to the point that he’s ready to burst.

“Fuck,” he grumbles as he rests his head against the wall. “So fucking good.”

Pleased, I continue to play with his balls while I bring my mouth to the root of his shaft and work my lips over it, kissing, sucking, licking, but staying in one centralized place. I know this drives him crazy from the way he tightens his hands into fists. Normally, the sensation of pumping up and down is what they want, but staying centralized, in one place—its stimulating and also drives them nuts wanting more.

“Sloane.”

I release him from my hand and stand up, leaving him stretching up toward his stomach. When his eyes meet mine, I say, “Stay there.”

I go to my nightstand where I grab my vibrator and my lube—thank God I thought of it—and bring it back to where Hudson is standing against the door to our hotel room. I take his hand and lead him over to the sitting area and stretch him out over the chaise lounge. I spread his legs and prop them up before I start lubing up the vibrator. Checking with him, I ask, “Can I?”

He wets his lips and nods his head.

Thrilled, I slowly insert the vibrator in his ass, letting him adjust, and when it’s where I want it to be, I turn it on. He immediately moans, his legs falling open, and his cock springing forward.

Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.

“Fuck…fuuuuuck,” he says, his hips moving.

I might not even have to do anything—I might be hitting him in just the right spot.

“Uhhnn, fuck.” His hands close into fists, his eyes squeeze shut, and I watch precum slip out of his tip and dribble down his stomach. “Baby…fuck…I…fuck.”

I smile to myself because I don’t think I’ve ever seen a reaction like this before. He’s clawing at the couch, shifting his body, heaving his chest. His cock is twitching, his body thrumming, his balls tightening.

“Holy shit…fuck, baby…oh fuck.”

My pussy throbs from the sight of him. My body tightening from seeing him fall apart like this.

And I’m unsure of what I want to do. I want to watch him. I want to see how long it takes before he comes, but God, I’m so hot right now, so hard up, in need of him.

“What do you want?” I ask as I play with his hard nipple.

“Fuck…I…” His jaw clenches together. “Your tight cunt. I want that fucking tight cunt.”

Drenched and spiraling with lust, I straddle his lap and take his dick in my hand and position it at my entrance.

“Now, fucking now, Sloane.”

I sit down on him, filling myself up with his erection, and I watch as the veins in his neck pulse from our connection.

“Mother…fucker.” His hands fall to my hips, and before I even have a chance to gather myself, he starts lifting me up and pounding me down. “Fuck me…hard. Fuck me, Sloane.”

Lust spiraling through me, I place my hands on his chest, and I dig my fingernails into him as I lift up and slam down on him.

“Fuck yes, baby. Just…like…that.”

I do it again.

And again.

And again.

And with every time I push down, I squeeze around him. On the third one, my orgasm starts to pool around me, a numbing feeling crawling through my veins, a blank beat of euphoria pulsing at the base of my spine.

“Hudson, God, I’m…I’m close.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me,” he growls.

And I go feral. He’s begging me, pleading. I’ve never heard anything sexier.

I pump over him. Unable to feel my feet, unable to catch my breath, I just focus on the pleasure coursing through me, on the sounds of him moaning, on the faint vibration I can feel until I feel him tense beneath me and then roar out in pleasure.

“Fuck!” he cries as I feel him spill inside me.

That’s all it takes—my orgasm tips over the edge, and I’m coming around him, contracting my walls, prolonging his orgasm as well.

“Oh fuuuuuck,” he groans as we both start to fade back down to reality. I fall on top of his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, keeping me close to him.

He holds me tightly, kissing my shoulder, kissing my neck, and when I lift up just a little, his lips find mine, and once again, we make out, letting our tongues dance and our mouths meld together.

When we pull away, I remove the vibrator and wash it in the bathroom, trying to regain my bearings. I turn around to find him standing in the doorway, leaning against it.

I turn back around and lean against the bathroom counter and watch his eyes in the mirror as they travel up and down my body before they fix back on my face.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he asks.

I shrug. “You know…places.”

He walks up to me and lifts me up on the counter. He wraps his hand around the nape of my neck and holds me still. “I fucking blacked out.”

“Good.” I lean forward and kiss the marks I left on his chest from my fingers. “I’m glad.”

“You can’t do that to me, Sloane. I’m too old.”

That makes me laugh as I look up at him. “I thought you said you were not that old.”

“Blacking out during sex means I’m too goddamn old.”

“Or it means you might finally be with someone compatible.”

“That could not be more right.” His hand travels down my back before he brings my leg up on the counter, exposing me. “I feel like I owe you more.” He squats down in front of me and I chuckle.

“I’m not going to say no to that.” And then he starts playing with me with his tongue, and I lean against the mirror, staring up at the ceiling, so grateful that I married this man.