by Vivian Lux
"Slàinte!" shouted Ewan, stumbling forward to catch Niall up in a huge embrace. Jules bounded to tackle them both to the floor. Hudson stood up and looked at me. Then, shrugging, he took three long legged leaps to body slam all three of them while the rockers whooped and my great aunt Tippie grabbed her clutch and swished out of the tent in a huff .
As if on cue, the music started. I clapped, laughing, as a karaoke version of the band's latest single blared over the speakers, the crowd-pleasing 'Best Mistake.'" Jules yanked Niall to his feet and hugged him while Hudson's growling voice floated above us, an impromptu concert from the hottest band in rock .
I swayed in place as the boys shouted along, Ewan singing to Celia, Jules embarrassing August, Niall brushing his hand down Reese's face. And Hudson ...
I glanced away hurriedly when I saw he was singing right to me. Singing the words, "Let's make our best mistake ."
I took another gulp of my magically refilled champagne glass. Making a mistake sounded like a very good idea right now. I glanced back at him. He was sitting now, his fingers splayed wide on his knees, curling slightly in like he was trying to keep a precarious hold on something. There was a flicker across his face when he caught me staring, and I hurriedly turned back and sat down .
Heart hammering, I tried to interest myself in my cousin Philippa's loud opinions on shoes. I managed to fake my way through the conversation with emphatic nods and indignant squeals while the music settled into a string of old standards that brought the oldest Penroses to the dance floor. But when a shadow fell over me, I wasn't too invested in Philippa's hatred of the kitten heel to not immediately glance up .
"I see you dancing in your seat there, Lulu," Hudson drawled. And I blushed up to the roots of my hair to be reminded that he'd been watching me. He stretched out his hand. "Dance ?"
I glanced hurriedly at the couple's table where Niall was leaning in to hear something Reese was saying. "Um ?"
"I won't touch you," he promised .
I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted at all .
"Come on, chair dancing is cute, but I bet you're dying to bust out some real moves. How about I get them to play a song for you? What's your favorite ?"
All thoughts had fled my head and suddenly I couldn't even remember my own name much less the name of the song that I liked the most .
Hudson, with all his skill at smoothing over awkward pauses just grinned again. "I know!" he said, and stepped away .
I craned my neck to watch him at the deejay booth. At some point Philippa must have realized I was ignoring her, because she chose that moment to flounce away, but I was too busy watching Hudson nervously .
For some reason, his choosing a song for me made me more nervous than any body contact, any brushed fingers or stolen glances. Because in all of that, I'd been able to keep up the wall of fantasy that surrounded Hudson. What did I know about him? What did he know about me? Musical taste told so much about a person and I was honestly scared that if I hated the song he picked, I'd be judging not only the song but him too. The fantasy would come crashing down and I wouldn't be able to pretend I had him all figured out any more .
He stepped back and came over to my table again, sitting down in Philippa's recently abandoned seat. "All set," he said, leaning back in the chair. He smiled at me and tapped his fingers against his thigh .
I couldn't stand it. "What did you choose ?"
He shrugged. "You'll like it ."
"You sure about that ?"
"Yeah."
"You think you know all about me, don't you?" I challenged, suddenly prickly for no reason .
He shrugged again. If he heard the attack in my voice, he chose to ignore it. "Not really. But the parts I know I like very much ."
Before I had a chance to respond, the music switched over to a low, slow beat, fuzzy with distortion. My old waltzing relatives scattered like mice faced with a cat. Hudson loped to the center of the dance floor and turned .
His gait was light, easy, his smile in place as always, but there was something in his eyes that made me shiver. I moved to him, then turned and glanced again at my brother. Was he seeing this? Was I imagining how Hudson was looking at me now? Was it as wrong as it felt ?
The lyrics intertwined with the music, a soulful male falsetto, and Hudson hummed along, taking the harmonies where there were none. I stepped forward and he placed a gentle hand at the base of my spine, the barest touch, innocent even. I relaxed by a degree. I was reading into things. He was just being a friend, helping me not be a wallflower. There was nothing more to this. I didn't want there to be anything more to this .
With a deft, light touch, he led us back out into the middle of the floor. I felt like a spotlight was directed right on top of us. The music he'd chosen wormed its way into my brain, and seemed to be rearranging my cells. Hudson kept up that careless harmony. Smooth, easy and untroubled, like there was nothing wrong with dancing with his bandmate's sister, with holding her so close. "You're not worried?" I whispered .
"Hmm?" He bent closer, like he hadn't heard me, but I swore he had. He was messing with me, making me lean in closer, bringing my lips to his ear so that I had no choice but to inhale him .
"Dancing with me ."
"We're just dancing. Nothing wrong with that. It's a wedding ."
"Really?"
"Why, Lulu? Something wrong with what we're doing?" His fingers tightened imperceptibly, just enough to sink a little further into my skin .
"No, I ..."
"You like the song ?"
The song was sex on wheels, but that wasn't the point. "Niall is ..."
"Who gives a fuck what Niall thinks?" He said it quickly, blurted it even. I don't think I've ever heard Hudson Grant blurt anything. Each word that he spoke was carefully measured, and weighed before he let it escape his lips, but this? I glanced up at him and for a second his blue eyes snapped, and darkened. I could feel my lips parting, but no sound came out, no word of protest, of yeah we should care what Niall thinks, because if he found out what I feel for you he'd murder you with his bare hands .
What I feel for you .
"Oh." The word just slipped out between my parted lips, so soft I could pretend I didn't say it. But Hudson heard. And if he knew what it meant, he didn't say, but let me know by pulling me closer .
"Only love could hit this hard ," he hummed along with the music, and his breath across my ear made me shiver. He was still just singing along with the words, but seemed to be speaking to my soul .
I rose up on my tiptoes and down again, but the ache stayed in my core. I looked up at him, which was a mistake, because he was looking right at me as he sang along. "Do you remember the things it made you feel ? "
"What?"
"The song," he murmured. "I like this song ."
"Oh," I said again. "You weren't ..."
"Asking?"
"No." I shook my head. Yes , I thought .
I expected to see him smile, but he grimaced. He glanced away from me like the sight of me in his arms caused him pain. Alarmed, I stepped back, breaking the hold. The song ebbed away and the ache in my core grew into a vast emptiness .
I glanced at my brother .
He was watching .
Chapter Thirteen
Hudson
"N iall is..." she whispered, her eyes darting to the front of the tent .
In that moment, I had no idea what she was saying, but I liked her voice as she said it. "Mhmm," I murmured, inhaling her scent one more time .
"Hudson," she hissed .
"What?" I blinked at her, feeling like I was waking from some dream. It had to be a
dream, spinning in a slow circle with Tallula in my arms. I'd definitely dreamed this before, although with decidedly less clothing involved .
She went up on her toes again, bringing her lips to my ear as the song ended. "Niall's watching," she whispered .
I glanced down at her, feeling how she had stiffened in alarm. But there was something different, something less panicked and more secret about the way she was warning me. Her eyes darted across my face, like she was trying to say something without words .
Then she stepped back .
Cool air rushed in to replace the heat of her body and I instinctively reached for her, to pull her close again. But she looked down, and then up, that significance in her eyes again. "Thank you for the dance," she said, her prim words not matching the light in her eyes .
"My pleasure," I said automatically, the good old Southern boy in me remembering his manners. They were about the only thing keeping me from diving between her legs right now .
Her eyes darted again, and she turned and headed away from her table. I watched as she sashayed out of the tent, in the direction of the trailers set up for guests so they didn't have to trek all the way back up to the house to use the bathroom. The soft light of torches sunk into the ground lit the way .
I nodded. The further away from me she got, the better chance I had of not exploding right in the middle of the dance floor in front of all her relatives .
Then she slowed. Just at the edge of the tent, she glanced back and caught my eyes .
Even in the candlelight, I could see that hers were shining bright green. She blinked once and bit her lip .
Fuck.
She bit her lip .
The effect was like a bomb detonating in my brain, exploding all rational thought. That lip bite, with the memory of her silken skin still tingling against my fingertips, was the last fucking straw .
I went after her .
If Niall was watching right then, he would have seen me following after his little sister like a goddamned bull in heat. If he was watching, he would have seen me weaving through the tables, tracing her every step as we disappeared into the shadows beyond the torch path .
I knew he wasn't watching though, because if he had been, he would have taken one look at the expression on my face, and knocked over his table to come punch me the fuck out .
But I didn't give a shit, Tallula's name was echoing in my brain like a song playing on a loop. "Tallula, Tallula," over and over again. In the back of my mind, the last vestiges of rational thought tried to make themselves heard over the din, reminding me that I was about to throw away everything I'd worked for, all those nights of flop-sweat and rejection for nothing. In the back of my head, a tiny little voice, half-strangled by desire was trying to remind me that I'd had the luckiest fucking break in the history of rock and roll, stepping in to fill the giant shoes of Killian Ness and somehow succeeding at it. Was I really going to give that all up for what? One night with Tallula Penrose ?
She was there in the shadows and my mind was made up .
"Hudson," she started to say when I reached her .
But I was already kissing her .
Her lips were just as soft as I hoped they'd be and the way she sighed into the kiss had me wild in an instant. My Lulu was like a flower, like those yellow winking secrets at the altar. But instead of a tight bud, she was open, blooming and gasping, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close so I could devour her mouth more easily .
I twined my finger in her silky hair, that smooth ribbon that flowed like water, skimming her shoulders. My hands sought downward, and she let me sink my fingers into the lush expanse of her ass .
Then the breeze lifted the tent flap, sending it cracking back down .
She hopped away from me like she'd been scalded. The moon reflected in her wild eyes, and the rasp of my stubble had reddened her lips. "Fuck," she hissed .
"It's okay," I soothed. I was talking out of my ass. There was nothing okay about this, but I truly believed I could make it okay if she'd just kiss me like that again. "Hey ."
"Fuck, we can't. You know we can't ."
"Why not?" I knew my reasons, but I wanted to hear hers .
"Niall will kick you out of the band ."
I paused. Something slippery was happening inside of my chest, wrapping fingers around my racing heart and squeezing tight .
She wasn't worried about herself .
She was worried about me .
So. Fuck it. I kissed her again .
"Lu," I breathed against her neck. She half groaned, but she didn't pull away, giving me that sweep of her shoulder I'd been obsessing about since I saw her walking down the aisle this morning. I could feel her pulse racing under my lips, so fast. Like the frantic fluttering of a trapped bird. "Lu," I whispered again, brushing up her neck to her ear. "Do you want me to stop ?"
"No." Her voice was strangled. "Yes. I don't ."
"It's okay. I can stop ."
"You won't ."
"I'm a big boy, Lulu." My words clanged a little in the air between us, reminding me of just how young she was. How tender. "I can handle myself ."
"Nothing bothers you," she sort of half-laughed. "Nothing rattles you ."
"You've got me plenty rattled," I reminded her .
She laughed a little more. The music floated out of the tent, the murmur of voices distant, half a world away. And in the shadows, it was only the two of us. I pulled her into my arms, a more chaste hug, friends. Comfort. I felt like I needed some myself .
The sound of one of my favorite songs pooled around me. The Black Keys, 'Your Touch.' I wondered if Niall was looking for me now, wanting to make sure I knew he'd remembered me. And here I was in the dark, entwined with his sister .
I hummed along for a moment, swaying with Tallula in my arms, in one place. By degrees, she eased into me, her breasts pressing to my chest. Her chin tilted up. "I need ," I sang, "your touch . "
She kissed me .
I'd been the one to kiss her before. Now she was kissing me. Full on, all the pent up wanting I'd been feeling, was there in her kiss .
Fuck my rock and roll career, Tallula Penrose was kissing me and it was worth whatever was about to happen next .
Chapter Fourteen
Tallula
E very so often, there were these mornings at uni where I had to lie there for several forgetful moments thinking, "What the hell did I do last night ?"
This morning, I woke up and remembered everything I'd done and still had to ask myself, "What the hell did I do last night ?"
I kissed Hudson .
We stole off together and shared a secret kiss in the shadows .
And it was best kiss of my life...since the last time he'd kissed me .
I kissed Hudson Grant .
That's what I did last night .
The memory of his lips on mine sent me skittering up to a sitting position way too fast, like I was trying to launch myself away from what I was remembering .
Because in spite of the aching ice pick lodged in my skull, I couldn't blame last night on the drink. I'd meant everything I'd done, and I definitely remembered everything too .
And that was a fucking problem .
I sat there at the edge of my bed, waiting for the world to stop spinning, I tried to count backwards from ten and reminded myself that he was leaving today. The terrible temptation would be leaving my house and going off on tour and out of my life again. I might see him once or twice when I visited Niall and Reese in the States, but we'd never again have the proximity that we'd had this week .
That was a blessing .
So why did I feel so goddamned sad right now ?
I got up and splashed water on my face. Then I shook out several whi
te tablets from the aspirin bottle and chugged down a huge glass of lukewarm water. I licked my lips and then thought for a moment before madly rushing to brush my teeth and run a comb through my ratty hair .
Then I looked at myself in the mirror. That would have to do. Now what I needed was some tea .
I made my way slowly down the stairs, trailing my hand down the wallpaper, feeling the brushed flocking left from the owners of a hundred years ago. Aside from putting in electricity, this wing of the house hadn't been renovated since Queen Victoria was alive and there were all these crumbling reminders of bygone years. I usually loved the layers of history on top of each other. It was the kind of thing I would sketch obsessively, over and over, trying to find a way of showing how many layers there were to everything around us and the beauty of seeing down into what lies beneath .
But right now it only made me feel somewhat melancholy. Like I'd never actually get to scratch the surface .
I rounded the bottom of the gracefully curving staircase and into the still emptied great room. The grand piano had been polished and set back into the center of the room. All traces of the party had been effortlessly whisked away by unseen hands in the night .
It was almost like last night had never happened. I could pretend it never happened .
