As he worked, a groove of concentration appeared between his eyes, the dark winged brows hooding them with intense focus. His mouth alternated between a flat line and pursed open when he took a break and rested his pencil end on the cleft of his bottom lip. She’d had that mouth on hers before, and she was giddy with the anticipation of having it there again, having time to explore every curve, using her tongue to probe the soft skin at the corner where his lips met.
An hour passed, and a sheaf of sketching paper accumulated on the table. Hudson’s movements were slower, more deliberate. Eve had thoroughly aroused herself purely by looking at the beautiful man.
“How long do these sessions usually last?” she asked in a stage whisper.
When he spoke, it sounded as if he was speaking in a dream, his body there but his mind somewhere far away. “One more pose, all right?”
She nodded, and carefully positioned herself. She got up on her knees on the couch, so her back was to Hudson. She twisted her torso, so he could see her ass and the curve of her breasts in silhouette. She placed her hands on either side of her breasts, cupping them, thrusting them out. She stared at him, parting her lips a little. She wanted to see his reaction and know that her body could both inspire him and tear him away from his flow.
Hudson turned to a fresh page and took her in. His eyes widened, his grip on the pencil tightened, then he dropped it altogether.
“I think that’s enough for tonight.” His voice was dark and rough with need; he was back in the present moment.
“Is it?” She squeezed her breasts together and couldn’t have counted to three before Hudson was beside her, pulling her onto his lap as he sat on the love seat, taking up most of its width.
“I don’t think it’s nearly enough,” she managed to say before his mouth crushed against hers, and she was too busy with the exquisite pleasure of getting exactly what she wanted exactly when she wanted it. He kissed her senseless. All the imagining she’d done over the past hour coalesced into a single erotic pulse in her hot, wet center that bloomed hotter and brighter with each stroke of his tongue on hers, each frantic scrape of teeth along lips, of moan meeting moan, of breath lost to the kiss.
How could she still be herself, whole and fine, instead of the puddle of need she’d melted into the moment he’d touched her? He kissed her and kissed her and kept kissing her, his hands roaming her naked body as if they needed to feel every plane that they’d drawn over the last hour. She pressed herself closer to him, but they were decidedly lopsided in terms of layers.
“Take off your clothes,” she said when she could get a syllable out around kisses.
Hudson left her mouth to tear off the long-sleeve tee he wore. Her mouth felt suddenly naked, but he returned shortly, keeping the mouth-to-mouth contact as he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking them and his boxers off in a hasty motion that left them tangled on the floor. He drew her to him again.
“Wait,” she said, and he immediately stopped, breathing heavily and looking almost angry.
“What, did I hurt you?” he said.
“No, no, it’s not that. I want to look at you. It’s only fair.”
He relaxed into a crooked smile. “Look all you want, sweetheart.”
He reclined back as well as he could on the small piece of furniture. He looked like a giant trying to fit onto a dollhouse’s couch.
Eve pushed away and found herself perched on the very end of the cushion. He was brown all over, though a bit lighter below his hips and above his knees. He ran daily on the beach, and the summer sun had further bronzed his naturally dark coloring. Soft black hair covered a patch of his chest in a vee, and then appeared again below his navel, leading to a thatch of curls, tighter and darker than the chocolate brown hair on his head.
Her first reaction to his stiff cock, proudly standing erect, was hesitation. It had been a while since she’d been intimate with a penis, but she’d never been acquainted with one quite as long and thick. It appeared entirely too big to fit inside her. Her second reaction was keen anticipation to try it out and see.
When she glanced back up at him, Hudson’s face was endearingly expectant.
“This isn’t going to work.”
“It’s not?” He looked stricken.
“This love seat is too small. We’ll break it. Might you have a bed we can use?”
He laughed, deep and rich and with a tinge of relief. “My boudoir is at your service.” With that, he gathered her into his arms and they adjourned to the bedroom.
Hudson lay her down on the center of his king-sized bed with its heavy four-poster frame as if she was a delicate egg and he a mother hen protecting her from harm.
It had been so easy to get carried away in the studio, having Eve’s warm, naked flesh pressed against him, filling his hands, his mouth, his every pore. He’d wanted to bury himself in her, rutting and savage until he’d owned her body and given them both as many rounds of mindless pleasure that he could manage. Given the way he was constantly aroused when he was near her, or even thought about her, he figured he could manage quite a few rounds, indeed.
She’d had to call him off of her and it had taken a supreme effort to reign in his passion and slow things down. Eve deserved to be cherished, to be made love to with tenderness and care. He’d diverted some of his sexual drive into energy carrying her through the house and up a flight of stairs. He didn’t feel her weight, only the hammer of her heart in her chest and how it beat against his own. He reveled in how well she fit against him in the protective circle of his arms. He’d be happy to have her there forever.
So he was calmer when they reached the bedroom, and he was determined to take his time, to give her what she deserved.
As he stared at her perfect feminine proportions—her curved thighs parting in invitation as soon he set her down, her hair a wild tangle, her mouth puckered and red from his kisses—his cock became unbearably hard and that sheer animal drive to be inside her returned. With a vengeance.
There was nothing but Eve—no bed, no words, no tenderness—as he covered her body with his. He took her mouth with a searing kiss and found her wet opening with the tip of his cock. Driven on by that carnal passion, he thrust his tongue in her mouth as he thrust into her. He registered her body stiffening underneath his, but the sensation of tight, wet, hot flesh around him like a vise made of pure bliss overcame everything else and he started to move, and as he rocked into her, she relaxed. He kissed down the side of her neck, but found her nipples tantalizingly out of reach. He was too far gone for anything besides the rhythm of pulling his cock out and plunging it back in, her hips meeting his, her rolling motion giving as good as she got. That vague notion that she was with him, that she wanted it this way, as hard and as fast as he could give it to her, allowed him to stay with her in the moment, give her everything he had. Her fingers, hanging onto his shoulders for dear life, dug hard into his skin and her mouth opened in a perfect O as she made a keening cry that ended in his name. That’s what he heard as he came, pumping his come into her with the deepest thrusts, feeling her womanly muscles convulse around him, his name on Eve’s beautiful lips.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Hudson. Hudson.”
He came to himself slowly. He was in his bed. Eve was there, half underneath him, smelling of sex and sticky with the evidence of their lovemaking. It all rushed back.
“Oh my god, Eve.” He was appalled. He’d practically attacked her, he hadn’t used a condom, and then he’d fallen asleep, probably horrifying and crushing her in the process. He sat up and removed himself from her as delicately as he could. “I’m so sorry.”
She stretched as languorously as a cat awakening from an afternoon nap. “For what?”
“For, for…using you like that.”
“I’d say we used each other.” She was smiling. He could only stare at her. She was taking this very calmly.
“I didn’t use protection, I didn’t even ask you—”
“Hudson, it�
��s okay. I’m on birth control. I knew what I was getting into.” She eyed his relaxed penis and seemed to reconsider. “Well, nearly.”
“Still, I—”
“Relax. Enjoy the moment. Don’t you know that it’s a serious aphrodisiac for a woman to find she can incite such abandon in a man like yourself?”
“Oh, really?” He liked the sound of that. He also liked the way her hair was obscuring one of her breasts while the other lay against the sheet like a glistening apple in a gift box waiting to be plucked and eaten. “What kind of man is that?”
He figured the question would keep her busy while he started nibbling on that tender offering.
“Oh, you know. Stoic with roiling passion bubbling beneath the surface. Aloof on the outside but begging for attention on the inside. Generous with everyone except himself. More handsome than any man has a right to be.”
He paused on his journey to the pert rosy nipple as her words sank in. Is that what she really thought of him? How could she hold him in such regard when he’d done nothing—well, very little—to deserve it?
“Don’t stop,” she said on a sigh, and he was completely done in. She kept surprising him. Tonight was one revelation after another, from her tearful confessions in the car, to her bold invitation at dinner. He’d had a raging erection the entire time she was posing for him, but he’d still managed to work up a decent rendering of her gorgeous face, and some of her other parts, as well. Her fearlessness shouldn’t have surprised him after what she’d shown she was capable of, but she had this unbelievably arousing combination of innocence coupled with a desire to go after what she wanted, consequences be damned.
His heart tripped when he understood that being what she wanted was more fulfilling to him than anything had been in a long time. Perhaps ever. He wanted to be there for her, he wanted her, but to be wanted in return just as he was made him consider that this could be love.
“I love…your nipples.” That much was true. He licked and sucked the full tip of her exposed breast until she was panting again and writhing beneath him. He loved to hear the catch in her voice when she said his name, when she tried to command him, tell him what to do, but she was already too far gone to make it sound convincing.
Hudson could afford to take his time, and so he ignored her pleas for him to get on top of her, to be inside her, even though every word she spoke drove him closer and closer to the point of no return. Instead, he gathered the hair away from her other breast, bunching it in his fist, feeling its weight and softness, indulging himself by burying his nose in it and breathing in her scent. When he had that particular smell burned into his memory, he turned his attention to her breast, holding the first one lightly in his palm so it wouldn’t feel left out as he licked and suckled to his heart’s content.
Eve bucked and writhed in glorious response to him, and her hands roamed his back and chest, ass, and cock. He’d never be content, never have enough of her body to last him even one day without her, never have enough of her heart until she told him what he was beginning to realize was true. He loved her. The thought grew in his mind until there was room for nothing else. It pushed its way out so that every caress, every kiss, every motion was a physical manifestation of that one truth. He loved her. He loved her with his body, silently yes, but as loudly as he knew how. Perhaps if he loved her body strongly enough, well enough, she’d hear the mantra of those three words repeating themselves over and over in his mind and in his heart until she knew the truth, too.
He moved one hand away from her breasts and found her clit with his fingers. With a certain soft pressure, he discovered he could take her up and over the edge in a few strokes. He loved being able to make her feel that way so easily. Of course, she had already returned the favor to him. He knew, as his fingers strayed lower and teased the sensitive wet folds between her thighs, that if he buried his cock in her again, it wouldn’t take more than a few thrusts to feel the second greatest orgasm of his life. After the one he’d had earlier tonight, of course.
Eve’s cry entered his consciousness. “Please.” The single word was all the invitation he needed. He slid himself inside her, in one long fluid motion that left him buried fully in her welcoming wet flesh. There had never been so much need, so much give and take, so much pleasure. The simple act of making love would never be simple again. Love was growing with each wave of ecstasy and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop.
He came with an involuntary shudder and a cry. “Eve, I—” but she covered his mouth with a kiss before he could finish the thought.
Hudson rolled off of her, but held her close. He didn’t need to say the words yet. He needed her with him, completing him in a way he hardly knew he’d been incomplete. Just as she’d disarmed his defenses, she’d reinvigorated his creativity, reminded him what was good about his art.
“I want you to know,” he started, and felt her tense. It stung, but he plowed on. “How much I needed what you did for me tonight.”
“The orgasms? Any time.” She grinned. He loved this rare playful side of her.
“I meant posing for me. Getting me back to work. I don’t want to jinx it, but I can feel things changing. I think I’m ready to work again. I can see myself focusing on people, on portraits, making a change from my old stuff.”
“Really? That’s fantastic!”
The enthusiasm in her voice calmed his insecure artist’s brain. “Do you think so?” Eve was an undisputed authority on art. Her opinion mattered to him.
“Hudson, you have so much left to share with the world. I’m honored that you drew me. I’d be thrilled if you wanted to paint me. I think I could get over the embarrassment of being naked for the entire world to see.”
He stopped her. “We’ll see, but I think I’d like to keep naked Eve all to myself. Let the world see your gorgeous face. That’s all they’ll be able to handle.”
She laughed and her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. He liked complimenting her to the point of embarrassment. She deserved nothing less.
“I think it’s a brilliant idea to start doing portraits. You’ll be magnificent at it. I can’t wait to see what you come out with. As long as you promise me you won’t do this with your other models.” She wiggled her ass against his cock, and kissed the side of his neck.
“Absolutely not,” he growled. “Since I’m the only one who sees you naked. Deal?”
“Deal.”
It wasn’t “I love you,” but he’d managed to get exclusivity into their arrangement. Progress.
***
Gray light at the edge of the curtains alerted Eve to the dawn. She’d never dreaded a morning quite the way she dreaded this one. She’d stayed awake after the third incredible round of sex. She could see in Hudson’s eyes that it had gone beyond sex for him, but for her to call it anything else would make it too difficult to leave. And leave she must.
If they were going to have any hope of a future together, if they were going to be able to take this seed of passion and nurture it into a fully grown relationship, then she had to make peace with the past that had been haunting her ever since she’d set foot back on American soil. Hell, if she were honest with herself, her past had been haunting every decision she’d made for the past decade.
She’d grown too fond of Hudson to continue with whatever this was and drag him into the mess that was her life even further. He’d only recently started painting again. He needed to focus on that right now. When she got her shit together, she’d come back and maybe they could try to make it work.
So she’d lain awake, reliving every moment of his body on hers, remembering the most powerful orgasms of her life, imprinting them on her memory so she’d have something to remind her that things could be good again. She lay there, feeling the rise and fall of Hudson’s chest as he slept like a rock next to her, allowing herself the comfort of feeling his strong forearm around her belly, of letting his chest be her pillow, of breathing in his spicy scent with every breath. She would have been conte
nt if that was the only thing she ever smelled again.
Eve did what she did best—made a plan. She’d leave Chelsea, go to San Francisco, and finally open the manila envelope that held the details of her father’s will, his legacy to her, the trust, everything. She’d find a way to forgive herself for her father’s death. If she could do that, then she would deserve whatever love Hudson could give her.
She was girding herself to extricate her body from Hudson’s embrace when he stirred next to her and his arms steeled, as if even in his sleep he wouldn’t let her go. She traced the knuckles on the back of his hand, marveling at how beautiful, how strong and sure they were, whether they were picking a lock, drawing a face, or touching her in the most intimate of ways.
Hudson was a beautiful person, inside and out. She’d sensed it when they first met, and every action he’d made since had shown her, bit by bit, what a fine man he was. He made her feel clean and whole.
He’d shown her so much generosity, brought her so much pleasure. Eve tried to imagine what he was getting in return. A solution to his artist’s block? A willing bedmate? She hoped that she’d been able to provide him pleasure in return. He’d certainly seemed aroused to the point of distraction. It had been incredibly erotic to see him lose control because of her, because of how much he wanted her. She’d met him with equal fervor, marveling at how in sync they were, how everything he did to her made her feel incredible and vice versa.
She didn’t have much experience but the kind of passion they’d shared was rare and often burned out quickly. He probably reacted that way to all of his models, then burned through them like a match on a day-old newspaper. She belatedly remembered that until recently, he’d been an abstract artist who hadn’t worked with models. The thought cheered her considerably. The idea of him unleashing that powerful physicality on any other woman made her heart ache.
Her exploration continued up his arm, across his powerful shoulder, up his neck, to the surge of his pulse. He was so vital, so alive and present, bright and warm, not like the men she’d known in Europe at all. He practically radiated sunlight; he’d grown strong on this California sun. He probably drank a gallon of milk a day when he was a boy.
Love Unlocked Page 16
