RecklessAttraction Vol. 3

by JJ Knight

  She buries her face in my chest, small moans against my skin.

  This is just a starter, so I push hard, slamming her body against mine, then away, and back. Her fingernails dig into my shoulder, driving me wild, and I increase the pace.

  She cries out, her legs tightening. I remember her sounds from last weekend, the build up. When I know she’s with me, her body responding in the way that is uniquely Chloe, I unleash inside her.

  “Hudson, Hudson, Hudson.” My name on her lips is perfect. I hold her tightly against me, still feeling the pulse of her around me.

  When she finally relaxes, her body spent, we sink down into the water. Little jets turn on, surprising us both.

  “How did that happen? Chloe asks.

  I give a little chuckle. “Well, sometimes a man meets a woman, and they decide they are ready to move to the next level—”

  She smacks me on the arm. “No, I mean, the jets.”

  I examine the little spurts of water coming out. “If I had to hazard a guess, they come on when the water level is high enough for them to safely operate,” I say.

  “Well, I like it,” she says, “Do you?”

  I draw her in close. “I like you.”

  “I kinda got that,” she said.

  “Did you now? What was your first clue?”

  She laughs and cuddles in close to me. I wrap my arms around her.

  “This is perfect,” Chloe says. “Absolutely perfect.”

  I agree.

  From her pants on the floor, her phone buzzes. Chloe goes stiff for a moment, then settles down again.

  That's right, I think. Ignore it. Leave the world where we can't agree on anything outside these doors. We have a beautiful night ahead. This is just the first round.

  Chapter 6: Chloe

  This is the most amazing, luxurious whirlpool bath of my life. It started with a bang, but now the water swirls around me in a warm glowing dream. Hudson discovered little blowup pillows and by God, I think we’re going to sleep in here.

  We are long past the point where your skin becomes all wrinkly. I'm probably a raisin. But I don't care. It's too perfect and wonderful right here. I never want to leave.

  The only dark note in this amazing evening has been the continued buzzing of my phone. I refuse to get out and acknowledge whatever is happening there. I'm sure it’s Clarissa, asking questions or trying to tell me what's going on.

  If she couldn't bother to respond to my phone calls when I was in jail two weeks ago, I don't need to respond to hers. I have no idea if the bust was successful. And at this moment I don't care. Hudson didn't get arrested. I didn't get arrested. It's all very far away.

  Hudson and I drift in and out of light naps until the water grows cool.

  “Should I add a little hot water to it?” he asks.

  I lift my head from his shoulder and stretch lazily. “I guess we have to dry off at some point.”

  “Probably so.”

  We reluctantly step out of the tub. Hudson wraps me up in the sort of thick, soft terrycloth robe I've only seen in movies. I swear, since I met Hudson, my life is like the story of someone else's cataclysmic love affair. It's hard to imagine this is really my life. Both the good and the bad.

  We pad barefoot back into the living room, and Hudson makes us another round of drinks. I sip the cool champagne, looking around and resisting the urge to actually pinch myself.

  We discover a balcony outside of the bedroom and sit there on lounge chairs, looking out at the view.

  “So what should we do tomorrow?” Hudson asks.

  “I can't think of anything that would top this.”

  “Something typical? Like a movie?”

  I let out a little laugh. Nothing about our relationship has been typical in any way. “As long as I'm with you, it doesn't matter to me what we do.”

  Hudson looks thoughtful. “I'm supposed to meet a real estate agent tomorrow. Apparently I’m moving out of the hotel.”

  “You just won your first fight three hours ago. They're already moving you up?”

  “No, this was already in the works. I would love for you to come look at some places with me. I could use your opinion.”

  I swirl my drink in my hand. I don't want to admit it to Hudson, but watching him move up in the world puts right in front of me the heart of what separates us. Normal people don’t have their training funded by rich ex-boxers. They don’t get swanky apartments for having beat the crap out of another human.

  So I offer up an alternative. “Or could we could go see how empty that little beach is.” I look at him meaningfully. “See if maybe we’re alone there.”

  My heart warms up at the smile he gives me at that.

  “Well, we did initiate your first beach kiss there.” He rubs his chin. “I might be down for breaking it in for a few other activities.”

  I look behind us at the bedroom. “I might be down for breaking in that.”

  He jumps to his feet. “You don't have to ask me twice.” He takes my drink and sets both our glasses on the table between our chairs. “I have so many things I want to do to you.”

  Does he now? My whole body tingles as he takes my hand and leads me back through the door into the bedroom. Spending an entire night in his arms again is like another dream come true. Despite all our differences in the real world, when it’s just the two of us, we are ridiculously compatible.

  I’ve never known a relationship to feel quite like this. I wonder what it means. Was he someone I could fall in love with? Tonight certainly makes it seem like that is possible. I mean, he defied everyone in that room by taking that video. And for what? For me. He put everyone he knew at risk. For me.

  Hudson sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me close. “First we have to undo this knot.”

  His fingers tug at the tie to my robe.

  “I'm not quite sure which I like better,” he says. “Watching you take off your clothes, or getting to remove them myself.”

  He slides the open robe aside. His eyes take in everything.

  “I'm not quite sure which part I want first,” he says, his voice husky.

  “All of it,” I say. “Take all of it.”

  This time is not the hot, hurried flash fire of the bath.

  It’s long, languid strokes of fingers on skin. Gentle breath on my neck and body. Sighs, teases, and soft laughter.

  When he enters me this time, my eyes prick with tears.

  Something unfurls in my heart. Little flutters of long-dead emotion wing their way back into the light.

  Can I do that? Can I fall for him?

  We face each other, sitting up, and his arms surround me. The muscles in his back shift and stretch.

  Would I love him easily if he wasn’t a fighter? Are we doomed?

  The pleasure radiates from where we join. A tear escapes and slides down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away before it can land on his skin. He can’t know I’m feeling anything but light-hearted attraction.

  Tension gathers low in my body and I focus on his strong, hard body, working within mine. I push down, increasing our contact, expanding his depth. He senses my shift and moves his hands to my hips, working us faster.

  I clutch his shoulders as I start to rise, pleasure sprinkling through me and gathering strength.

  He buries his face in my hair, working me, holding me so tightly that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. His hands drag me even closer, and the orgasm takes hold, expanding as he moves.

  When I start to call his name, he pulses inside me. I hang on, gasping and crying for real. I can’t stop the tears. I’m not sure why I’m losing it, other than the night was long and full of fear, and I’m safe now. I’m sheltered and protected.

  Hudson shouldn’t want me at all. He should hate who I am and what I stand for. What I’ve done.

  And I should feel the same.

  But it doesn’t work that way. If anything, our differences make what works all the more intense.

  We tilt to
the side and collapse on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

  As we settle between the cool, crisp sheets, Hudson's arms around me, I realize that I was right earlier. I really could fall for this guy.

  It's pretty clear I already am.

  Chapter 7: Hudson

  I get the impression that Chloe really doesn't want to go with me to look at apartments, so after a leisurely morning in the hotel, including another sweet round in the giant bed, she drops me back at my old hotel.

  The whole time we were together, I didn't look at my phone once. Unlike Chloe’s phone, which kept buzzing from the other room until it finally ran out of charge, I turned mine off. Nothing could get to me while I was with her.

  As I take the stairs up to my room, I flip my phone back on to see if anyone has called me out on not showing up for Saturday workouts yet. I was supposed to get in a couple hours before I met with the realtor.

  What I don't expect is for my phone to have totally blown up. I have messages from Mike, Josh, Colt, and my sister. And somehow I guess The General has gotten my number, because there’s even a curt message from him asking to meet me somewhere today.

  I pause in the hallway and quickly scroll through everything. The fights did get busted. Mike got out, but Josh got picked up. Dang it. I could've helped with that. Mike apparently posted bail for him. The last message says he’s waiting in reception.

  No doubt The General wanting to meet me has to do with that as well. I don't know how I’ll get out of it. It seems like I should probably consult The Cure. He’ll know what to do. I send off a quick note to Mike asking if Josh got released. Then I call Colt.

  When he picks up, the first thing he says is, “You sure know how to bring down the house, don't you?”

  I shove my key card in the door and head into my room. “So what's the situation?” I ask.

  “There was a welcoming committee at Buster's Gym this morning,” Colt says. “Looks like one of Pop’s old cronies does the illegal fight circuit. They were looking for you.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That if they had a problem with you, they had to take it up with The Cure.”

  “Have you talked to The Cure about it?” I drop my keys on the dresser and set my fight bag down. This is bad. This is really bad.

  “Pop doesn't know a thing about it yet. But I'm sure he will by the end of the day. He knows everything. You can't have a flyweight step off the scale five ounces heavier than he was the day before without my dad getting a report.”

  “What are my options?” I lie back on my bed. “I'm supposed to meet with the realtor in an hour. Should I cancel that? Do I need to talk to these guys?”

  “If I were you, I would lie low and say nothing.”

  “Is Jo mad I didn't come to practice today?”

  “Your absence was duly noted,” he says. “Everyone assumes you took off with that girl again. I’m guessing she's the reason the fights went down.”

  I’m not going to play my hand on that, but I say, “She left with me. No cops had been called when we left.”

  “Did you say she works for somebody?” he asks.

  “Some protesting organization.”

  I can practically hear Colt pacing on the other end of the line. “All right, here's how we'll play it. We'll blame it on the organization. Say you talked her out of doing it. But they did it anyway.”

  “That's not that far off the mark,” I say.

  “I assume she's with you now?”

  “No, she went home. I was with her last night though.” The image of Chloe in the hotel room flashes through my mind for a moment, but I have to push it aside.

  “You might want to stick a little close to her,” Colt says. “If there's anything I've learned about the hotheads on the fight circuit, it's that they don't play nice.”

  I know what he means. The first time I met Colt was in Hawaii, just weeks after a gunshot wound that nearly killed him. That long slow, painstaking recovery is something that impressed me then. None of us need to risk anything of that magnitude now. I don't know these people that well, or how far they’ll go.

  “I'll do what I can. Chloe has a mind of her own.”

  Colt laughs. “Those are the best kind.”

  We get off the phone, and I pace the room for a bit. Chloe going with me today is no longer a request. I'm going to have to make her. I think about the buzzing on her phone, and I wonder if any of it was the same sort of warnings I got. Did The General know who she was, too? God. What if they got to her before I did?

  I flip my phone back on and quickly call her.

  No answer.

  My heart hammers. What if they’re waiting for her at her apartment? I knew I should've gone home with her. I walk in circles in my room, trying to decide what to do next. Change clothes? No time. Pack? I don't have time for that either. Call that realtor to cancel? Definitely that.

  Crap. I don't know my head from my ass right now.

  I quickly text the realtor that I’m not available, then grab my wallet and keys and head out the door. If Chloe's in any kind of danger, I have to be there with her. I have to protect her.

  I race down the steps and take the exit out to the parking garage. Within minutes my red Ferrari is headed toward Chloe. Thank God she's only a few minutes away.

  Chapter 8: Chloe

  As soon as I’ve cleared the block past Hudson's hotel, I pull over. I've spent an entire evening ignoring messages on my phone. But our perfect night is over, and it's time to see exactly what happened last night after we left the fights.

  Most of the messages are from Clarissa. She acknowledges that the police were called. She asks if I got out this time. After a while, she lets me know that she’s at the jail. She can find no record of me being there. But she wanted to make sure this time.

  Ha. Funny. This time she goes down there without me even asking for help. That’s a turnaround from two weeks ago. It’s the happy donors. They make the world go ’round.

  I pull out on the street feeling way more secure about my future. If Clarissa told the truth, a scholarship is headed my way. I’ll be able to finish school.

  There's something noble and certainly common about being a poor college student. I don’t mind the ramen packets, the Netflix weekends, the late SpeedRide nights if I’m working toward something better.

  Things are looking up.

  I pop my key into the door, surprised to see that it’s already unlocked. Zeba is super paranoid about that.

  When I push open the door, I'm completely unprepared for what I see inside. Zeba in a chair with a huge man behind her, covering her mouth with his hand. Her eyes are big and full of fright.

  I'm not sure what to do. I can't turn and run and leave her. But in the next moment, it doesn't matter, because another man of equal size grabs me by the arms.

  He lifts me up and tosses me on the sofa. His voice is a low threat. “Sit down and do not make a sound, or we start breaking bones.”

  Everything in me wants to scream my head off. But I managed to push it down. My first thought is Hudson. Is someone waiting for him too? At least he has skills.

  Suddenly MMA fighting sounds amazing. I want to have all the knowledge. I want to be able to drop kick jerks into next week.

  I right myself on the sofa and assess the situation. Both men are tall and muscled in fitted shorts and loose tank tops. Fighters, for sure.

  We’re in deep shit.

  Zeba’s frightened eyes meet mine. I'm sure she’s figured out the situation, too. My meddling has become her problem.

  The man behind her says, “I’m going to move my hand. But if you scream, same broken bones for you.”

  Zeba nods. The man takes his hand away but stays beside her, his hands on her shoulders.

  She's wearing the T-shirt and loose shorts that she usually sleeps in. Her hair is yanked back and the fuzzy ponytail looks like it’s been slept on.

  God, I’ve dragged her into this mess. I wonder w
ho else is involved. Hudson doesn't have an obliterating app like I do. If someone checks his phone, they’ll realize that his video is exactly the footage Clarissa is using to prove that my organization was involved in the bust.

  Has she already posted it? Do they already know?

  This is bad.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my voice sounding a million times steadier than I feel.

  “The General wants to see you,” one says.

  It's the guy who tossed me onto the sofa. He’s bulky but I’m pretty sure Hudson could take him on. Except Hudson isn't here. Hudson may be having a problem of his own. They’d know to send their very best to him.

  Suddenly, a whole family of fighters sounds like a godsend. Protection.

  But they don't exactly like me. I know I can't expect any help unless Hudson makes them do it.

  Not that any of it matters. I don't have any way to communicate with Hudson right now. I'm quite sure this guy is not going to approve of me pulling out my phone and tapping a message.

  “I’m guessing The General is that guy who runs the fights?” I ask. No one said his name last night, not even Hudson. I guess they assume everyone knows.

  The man nods.

  “So where is he?”

  “On his way.” This comes from the brute next to my roommate.

  I look at him more closely. He has the giant “T” tattooed on to his right arm. I wonder what that means. I'm not going to ask.

  Mr. T and his buddy stand like stern crossed-arm statues in our living room as we all wait in silence.

  Zeba and I clash expressions again. She is definitely calmer now than when I first walked in. Now that I know they are mainly just holding us until their boss arrives, I am quickly growing angrier.

  “I talked to The General last night. What else does he want from me?”

  “That's not my business.”

  I shift on the sofa, trying to see if I can casually get my hand in my pocket. I really need to activate the app that will delete the messages from Clarissa and the text from Hudson attached to the video from last night.