by Carly Fall
Bev had wrapped her hair in a black towel, and his black silk robe was wrapped
around her body. The damn thing swirled around her, far too big, but revealing enough to show the outline of taunt breasts and a small waist without much in the hips department.
With every confident step she took, he thought he was going to get a glimpse of a thigh, but it never emerged. The black made her unmarked porcelain skin stand out. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower. If he had thought she was pretty before…well, now she simply took his breath away.
“Are you okay? Are you going to be sick again?”
She sat down next to him and put her hand on his back. It was cool on his skin,
but it might as well have been a hot branding iron.
Their eyes locked.
Just like at the bar, her piercing green stare saw through the charade he had
carefully constructed, and she knew the lies he had told.
He studied her face. Goddammit, she was what they described as a classic beauty.
Smooth porcelain skin. High cheekbones. Full lips. There wasn’t a flaw anywhere on her face that he could see. She sat with her back ramrod straight, her shoulders pushed back, her chin lifted. He was reminded of pictures of royalty, except they all tended to look like they had a broomstick stuck up their asses and attached to their spines. For Beverly, the way she carried herself was natural.
Women like her had never held an interest for him. He always went for the ones
with a bit of a hard edge. The party girls. Hell, he’d been with hookers many, many times.
He had always felt that women like Beverly deserved more than he could offer. The others were simply looking for a body or to get paid. Of course, he would love nothing more than to have such a woman, but all he could give her would be a night of nothing but fucking, maybe some cuffs or a blindfold to fulfill an erotic fantasy. He didn’t have much else. Perhaps an omelet in the morning, but there wasn’t much more to the what-can-Hudson-give-a-woman list.
However, as Beverly stared him down, he felt the electric sexual attraction
between them, a force onto itself. She wanted him, and he knew he wanted her as he speculated about what was going on in his boxers, which was pretty messed up
considering he could barely move.
He thought about his bloody, swollen lip and how much he wanted to kiss her.
Maybe, just maybe after Cohen got back, he would…
No, he didn’t want this.
But maybe he did.
But then her hand came up and gently touched the side of his face, her fingers
tracing through his hair.
This was some kind of fucked-up spell. He actually wondered if she was a witch.
Why couldn’t he look away? Why couldn’t he disengage from this…thing passing
between them?
A loud knock on the door had her flying off the bed to the middle of the room,
and he felt himself exhale. He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face.
“What?” he bit out.
“Can you get up yet?” Noah said through the thick wood. “I want to do a de-brief
on you before lunch.”
Hudson looked at Bev. She stood in the middle of the room looking at him as if he had just grown an extra head, with her arms crossed over her chest, her hand up to her mouth.
Apparently, she had been under some spell as well, because she looked as though
she regretted her actions, even though nothing had happened between them. She was his doctor until Cohen got home.
End. Of. Story.
“Yeah, I’m sort of mobile. I’ll be up in about twenty. I want to get a shower.”
There was silence for a moment, then Noah asked, “You got the doc in there with
you? I just went down to see if she wanted breakfast and she wasn’t there, but the door was locked.”
Hudson thought of what would be the best answer for Bev. He didn’t want to say
that she had spent the night because Noah would immediately think he had bedded her.
Then he would go flapping his jaws to everyone in the house. Hudson wasn’t worried about what they would all think about him, as his reputation as a slut had been earned and blazed in stone. However, he would not allow even a shadow of his reputation to be cast on Bev. This was one lie he could deliver with ease. “Yeah, she’s in here. She just got here a little while ago to check on me.”
“Okay, man. See you in a bit.”
Throughout the whole conversation, they had continued to stare at each other.
“You okay, Bev?” he asked quietly.
She broke their stare and looked around the room, not meeting his eyes. “Yes. I’m fine.”
He needed space from her. He would not allow her to be involved with a train
wreck in action. She was too beautiful, too kind, too important, and too good. No, she simply couldn’t get wrapped up in the mind fuck that was his life.
Space. He needed space, which meant he needed her gone. That would be first
and foremost on his list of things to do. Then he remembered the peace that she had brought him, and how good it had felt.
Damn it He wanted her gone, but he wanted her to stay. He closed his eyes and
shook his head. Like he needed another war brewing within him.
She needed to go.
It was for her own good, because the less she knew about him and his fellow
Warriors, the better. The longer she hung out here, the bigger the chance was that she would see, hear, or find something that would out him and the other Warriors as not quite human. In fact, he would talk to Noah about a plan of action for her to go today.
But first, he needed a shower.
Chapter 16
Beverly stood in the middle of the room watching Hudson slowly make his way to
the bathroom. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t trust herself not to run across the room and throw herself at him.
Oh my. The visions of him having sex with that woman kept replaying in her
mind, except it was her who he hovered over, who he thrust into. It was her in those handcuffs, and the fantasy continued from there. Chairs. Couches. On top. From behind.
Apparently, she had some inner nymphomaniac that she wasn’t aware of lurking below the surface, who had decided it was time to come out and play. Sure, her love life had been practically non-existent, but it wasn't something that she really gave much thought about. Now, watching him make his way across the room, she wondered what she had
been missing out on her whole adult life.
She never felt this excited or felt more like a woman than she did when she
thought of being with Hudson. Her mind reeled at what he would do to her body, the pleasures he would bring, if she let him. The heat in his eyes was obvious, as was the erection he tried to hide under the sheet as he made his way to the bathroom.
Looking around the room, she heard the running water of the shower. She had
seen almost all of Hudson as she stitched him up, and she had seen all of him that night in the hotel when she watched him having sex. His chest was smooth and large, his stomach tight and slim. His legs were long and muscular.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Trying to focus on herself, she went for her bag and pulled out her underwear and bra, a pair of jeans and button-down white shirt. She debated shoes, but she noticed Abby was barefoot last night. What was good for the goose was good for the gander.
Or whatever.
She pulled a comb through her hair, deciding to let it dry naturally, and she also skipped the makeup. She heard the shower turn off and braced herself, preparing to resume the role of physician and bypass the need of a woman who desperately wanted to be touched by someone as beautiful and exciting as Hudson. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she tried to get herself back into doctor mode and put her inner-nympho away.
Prof
essional. Detached.
No more thoughts of Hudson naked.
“Bev?” he called from the bathroom. “Bev, are you still here?”
She went to the door. “Yes. What do you need?” She silently prayed for and
hoped that he would say something like he needed her in the shower naked with him.
She squeezed her eyes shut. So much for resuming the role of physician. She
simply had to quit with the carnal thoughts about Hudson.
“I…I forgot my clothes. I was wondering if you could grab me a pair of sweats
and maybe a button-down shirt from the closet.”
She didn’t hesitate. Clothes were good. “Sure. Just give me a minute.” She went
to the dresser and found a pair of black sweats, then opened up another drawer and found some black silk boxers. Hurrying over to the closet, she threw open the doors, his scent engulfing her. A low whistle left her lips as she took in the huge collection of clothing. As she fingered through the shirts, she read the labels: Armani, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Hermes. Hudson had quite a wardrobe. She found a white button-down shirt, but then changed her mind. His bruises and stitches would show through the fabric, and she thought it would be best if people didn’t see that, although she thought most had already seen the raw wounds. But if a stitch came loose and he began to bleed…
She chose a black cotton button-down shirt that wouldn’t outline any of his
wounds or show any blood if one of the stitches decided to bleed. And the blood would wash out of the cotton, not so much with the silk shirts.
Quickly, she walked to the bathroom and softly knocked. The door opened and
Hudson’s dark eyes met hers. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and he held out a hand for the clothes. She felt her breath catch and handed them to him. “It might be hard to get the shirt on. Let me know, and I can help you.”
He nodded, took the clothes, and shut the door.
She heard some hisses, a few curses, and then, “Bev?”
She opened the door and walked in. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his hands holding him up against the sink, “but you were right. I can’t get the shirt on.
Wrestling with the sweats just about did me in.”
She grabbed the shirt from the floor. “Let me help you,” she said quietly, holding up one arm of the shirt so he didn’t have to stretch his chest or midriff. Once that arm was through, she maneuvered the shirt so he could get his other arm in.
As he buttoned his shirt, she noticed he was struggling, weak from the shower and trying to get dressed. Moving to the front of him, she said, “Let me.”
She didn’t meet his eyes as she lined up his buttons and began fastening them.
When she reached the bottom, she continued her eye-level stare straight into his chest.
Her breathing was shallow, and she wanted nothing more than to put her head against the large plane in front of her, wrap her arms around his waist, and not move for something close to eternity.
And lick him. Yes, she definitely wanted to lick him.
But back to pretending to be a physician. Patient-client rules needed to be
followed. Rule number one: You don’t kiss or lick your patient. Rule number two: You don’t hug your patient. Rule number three: You don’t think about all the ways you wanted your patient to sex you up.
You remain at a distance and unattached.
She finally looked up at him and smiled. “I think you’re ready,” she said softly as she stepped away.
He nodded. “Let’s get out of here for a while, Bev,” he said, taking her hand. She didn’t move, but looked down at his big paw engulfing her slender fingers.
“Sorry,” he said, letting go of her hand. “Sorry. But yeah, let’s get out of here.”
She felt as though she had just hit her hand on the burners of a hot oven, except it didn’t hurt. The energy and heat rippling through her from his touch made her catch her breath, and she briefly looked down at her hand, sure she would see a burn mark.
Hudson slowly made his way across the room to the door leading to the elevator.
His big body moved with grace, even though it was battered and bruised. She caught up to him, tempted to grab his hand to see if she had imagined the energy between them, but she didn’t.
When they reached the main living area, Beverly heard laughter before the doors
to the elevator opened. When the steel wall separated in half to reveal the kitchen, Rayner, Faith, Noah, Abby, and another man she didn’t know were all standing around.
Rayner had Faith’s back pulled to his chest, looking as if he would never let her go. They were laughing at something Noah had said. Noah had his arm flung over Abby’s shoulder.
The other man she didn’t recognize was standing over the stove with his back to her.
When everyone heard the elevator open, all heads turned to them. Beverly and
Hudson were greeted with smiles and hellos as they stepped into the kitchen. The man Beverly didn’t know stepped forward. He was as tall and muscular as the other men, and his dark eyes glittered with mischief, his smile blinding. His dark hair was cut short with military precision, and he wore a t-shirt that had a picture of a piñata on it, and under the picture it read, I’d hit that.
“Hi Beverly. I’m Talin.” He stuck his hand out, and Beverly shook it, smiling at
him, amused by his shirt and appreciative of his friendly demeanor.
“Nice to meet you, Talin.”
He turned to Hudson, his face growing serious. “How’re you feeling man? Heard
you got caught up in some nasty shit.”
Hudson nodded. “Yeah. I’m doing okay. Bev has been an excellent doctor.”
Beverly felt herself blush.
“So what are you doing in my kitchen, Talin? Please don’t tell us you’re cooking
macaroni and cheese for breakfast. Or worse yet, cereal.”
Talin smiled. “We were actually in a heated debate on Rice Krispies or Frosted
Flakes. If you’re feeling well enough to step up to the plate, have at it.”
Beverly watched Hudson out of the corner of her eye while he contemplated
whether or not he was up for cooking. In her opinion, he wasn’t. But then he looked down at her and asked, “Can you give me a hand, Bev?”
She nodded, and Hudson told everyone to get out of the kitchen. “Those assholes
have no idea how to even turn on the oven,” he murmured with a slight grin. “And I bet that lasagna last night was something they got out of the frozen food aisle.”
She smiled. It was terribly obvious to her that he cared deeply about the people in this house, and they cared for him. She found herself envious of the family he had, and a little sad for herself that her family had been taken away, and she would never have one of her own.
“I’m not very good in the kitchen either, Hudson,” she said. “I’m probably more a hindrance than a help.”
He looked at her a moment and shook his head. He then slowly made his way to
the fridge. As he dug around in there he said, “The kitchen is the central place of any house. It’s where sustenance is given to those who live there. And hopefully, it’s healthy.
If it’s healthy food that’s prepared, then you are helping to make those you serve the best that they can be. Would you mind bending down to grab the spinach, Bev?”
She opened one of the refrigerator’s lower drawers. There were a few bundles of
greens, and she was grateful that they were all marked with a twist tie indicating exactly what each was.
“Don’t you cook at home, Beverly?” Hudson asked.
She shook her head. “No. I rarely cook.”
“How come?” he asked.
Standing up, she met his eyes. “Long hours at the hospital, time constraints,
exhaustion.”
Hudson didn’t say anything, just stared at her. “D
o you like to cook?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and looked at the wall, memories flooding her
thoughts. “I don’t know, Hudson. It’s been so many years since I’ve even tried…”
When she had lived with her mom, she had dabbled in cooking every now and
then, but she had been so busy with school that she rarely had time. When she was using drugs, she hadn’t given much thought to eating. While in rehab, her meals were prepared for her. Now out of for seventy-two hours, she had managed to get herself kidnapped, and she really hadn’t given much thought to cooking.
After a moment, she finally met his eyes. She had never thought of a meal
meaning anything more that sustenance for the body, but she could see where his thought processes came from. Going by Hudson’s definition of what the kitchen meant, which was a place that provided love, she was once again reminded of the family she had lost, and the biological family she would never have.
“That’s too bad, Bev,” Hudson said quietly. His eyes were sad, sad for her, and
she hated that. After a moment, that grin that showed his dimple, the one she had grown to like, crossed his face. He gave her nose a gentle flick with the tip of his index finger. It could have been interpreted as friendly, or a little tap given by a lover. “But today, you help me. We’ll prepare something healthy for everyone in the house. When we’re done, we’ll know that we’ve given them something nutritious that they probably wouldn’t have been able to get for themselves. Because you sure as shit can’t get good nutrition out of a cardboard box. We’ll know that we’ve given a little something of ourselves in the meal, given them a small stepping stone to their health. Not to mention a full stomach. A good meal always brings out the best in people. So not only will we be contributing to the well-being of their health, we will be making them happy, giving them a sense of contentment within themselves. That way they’ll be able to love each other a little better.”
Selfless. He was selfless. All of her thoughts since meeting him had been about
his beauty and his raw sexiness. But before her stood a man who truly cared about the well-being of those around him.
This kind of threw her for a loop. On top of everything he had just said, she
