“Good point.” I’ve been dodging anywhere Knox hangs out, and if Hudson weren’t with me yesterday, I would’ve stormed out of the restaurant the moment they walked in.
“Promise you’ll give it a chance. Do it for me and my broken heart.”
“Fine, I’ll do it for you.”
She snorts. “I know you love me and all, but you’re doing this more for yourself and your vagina.”
“Onto the next subject. How are you doing?”
“I haven’t been back to the hospital and moved my shit back to my mom’s. My biggest issue is Brett’s bitch sisters. They’re pissed I burned his sneakers before leaving. I took pictures and sent them to his phone, so he’d know they were gone. It’d be rude for him to stress finding the perfect shoes for his next date.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “How did I know you’d do something to make him pay? You’re having too much fun with this.”
“Burning shit mends a broken heart. The flames bring out a whole new you. I’m ready to find myself, change my hair, do all that new me crap they talk about in self-help books. My mom’s been sending me Pinterest quotes about moving on.”
“Is it working?”
“The Pinterest quotes? Hell no. I don’t want to be that sad girl who looks on the bright side. I want to be the bitch that goes on a revenge spree. Burning his shit, writing he’s a cheater on his car, maybe hunt down one of his friends and sleep with him … or all of them.”
I laugh. She’s so lying. Willow has only been with Brett, and I don’t see her going on a one-night stand binge.
“You do know he’s in the hospital right now? Don’t you feel kind of bad for him?”
“Yes, which is the only reason I haven’t kicked his balls into his stomach.”
Twenty-Four
Hudson
I haven’t had much time to spend with Stella today.
It fucking sucks.
I went from dreading the days with her to looking forward to them.
Now that I’ve had a taste of her, I can’t get enough. If I woke up every morning with the taste of her on my tongue, I’d be one happy motherfucker.
We slept in our own beds last night. I could see she wanted me to stay on her face, but I’m not ready for that yet. I can’t scare her off. When she asked to join her in the shower this morning, there was no saying no.
Her schedule has been jam-packed, and people have been in and out of the house all day. She made conference calls with her agent, and her stylist came over with a shit ton of clothing. My free time has been spent hanging out in my room and searching for new job prospects.
My father took over my grandfather’s business after he passed and wants me to work for him. I grew up in the repair shop that specializes in engines and large farming equipment that’s been in my family for over sixty-years. Like he did, our dad is expecting Dallas or me to take over when he retires.
That’d been my plan after promising Cameron I wouldn’t deploy again. I’ve worked on equipment ten times my size since I was fifteen, and I’d enjoy it. First, I have to get my shit together. My dad made it clear he wasn’t handing the company over to anyone not settled.
Growing up, we were given a checklist in life. Find a wife, have children, and work hard until retirement. Live life to the fullest. Be happy. My mom would say this every night before bed without fail. Having fun is cool but only after our responsibilities are met.
My phone beeps at the same time I shut my laptop after sending my final email.
Stella: I’m having a pizza delivered in 5 minutes. Will you answer the door and bring it up to me in the gym?
Me: Only if you share.
Stella: Duh.
My stomach growls at the thought of pizza. The majority of Stella’s food is health-nut bullshit. Gluten-free this. No high-fructose syrup that. I’ve forgotten what real sugar tastes like.
When the alert someone is approaching the gate goes off, I glance to the video screen in the corner of my bedroom. I buzz the delivery guy through, and the delicious scent of greasy cheese hits me when I open the door. My stomach growls when I tip him, and I grab plates and drinks from the kitchen before going upstairs.
“Pizza delivery,” I call out, walking into the gym.
Stella smiles and hops off the treadmill without bothering to turn it off. I size her up as she struts toward me wearing a sports bra and workout pants. Her hair is in a loose ponytail and sweat is trickling down her chest and between her breasts. I lick my lips, craving her more than the pizza.
“Finally,” she moans. “I’m starving.”
Her moan matches the one she makes when we’re having sex. I guess my sex game is on the same excitement scale as pizza.
She opens the box while it’s in my hands and pulls out a slice. After taking a bite, she moves back to the treadmill, the slice still in her hand, and goes back to working out.
I set the pizza box on a weight bench. “What are you doing?”
Her forehead creases together while she looks over at me, keeping her pace. “Eating dinner?” She plucks off a pepperoni and pops it in her mouth.
“On the treadmill?”
She nods.
“You’re eating pizza on the treadmill?”
This woman is a nut job.
“Sure am.” She points to the box. “You better get yourself a slice before I eat it all.”
I keep staring at her.
“Are you not hungry?”
“My mind is too busy trying to figure out why you’re eating pizza on the treadmill.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of multi-tasking? My agent was up my ass about my ass today. I looked heavy in a few bikini pictures that were leaked, so I need to tone this up.” She smacks her ass. “My problem is that my soul mate is carbs. Therefore, in order for me to give into my one true love, I have to work out.”
The fuck?
“Sweetheart, you are not fat and are being too hard on yourself. And fuck your agent for making you feel less than perfect.” I scrub my hand over my jaw and level my eyes on her. “That ass is perfection. Your hips, fucking flawless, especially when I grip them while you’re riding my cock.”
Hollywood is a bunch of sugar hating, green smoothie drinking dickheads.
She almost loses her step at my response but manages to correct herself. “Thank you. I’m glad you appreciate this ass. I only wish your opinion was the same as everyone else in the business.”
“Someone else’s opinion of your body shouldn’t define how you feel about yourself. You’re beautiful.”
Bitterness fills my mouth, and I wonder how many people have tried to change her. From her mom forcing her to color her hair to the people who work for her complaining about her weight.
She flashes me a shy smile and holds up the last bite of pizza before popping it in her mouth. “If I want to eat like this, I have to work it off.”
I beckon her with my finger. “Come here.”
She shakes out her arms while staring at me skeptically. I stand quietly until she does what I asked. She jumps off the treadmill, and I plant my hands on her hips. She gasps when I turn her around in my arms and guide us to the mirrored wall. We stare at our reflection as I hold her in place.
“You know what I see?” I whisper into her ear.
She shivers but stays quiet.
“A beautiful woman—inside and out. Don’t fucking listen to anyone who tells you different.”
Her eyes meet mine, and her plump lips curl into a smile. “Who would’ve thought underneath that tough exterior was a man so comforting? There’s a spot of understanding in you that I’ve never found with anyone else. No matter what happens to my career, my money, my appearance, I have a feeling it’ll never change the way you look at me.”
I gulp. “Never.”
She shifts in my hold, turning to face me, and clasps her hands around my neck. When her lips meet mine, I kiss her softly.
“I think you were sent to California for a bigger rea
son than to be my security guard.”
“You’re right.” I kiss her again. “That reason was you.”
A connection this strong doesn’t just happen. We were pushed together to prove we’re capable of love, receiving and giving it, and to show us there’s a light at the end of the tunnel of our broken hearts. We’re two heartbroken souls looking out for one another.
My breathing hitches when she releases me to fall to her knees at the same time my shorts are pushed down. My cock is already hard at the sight of her innocently staring up at me while biting her lip, and it springs forward in front of her.
I wrap her ponytail around my hand, and her locks spill forward when I undo it from the band. I rake my fingers through her soft strands when she wraps those beautiful lips around the tip of my cock, sucking hard. There’s no taking my eyes off her while she slowly draws me into her mouth. I tighten my grip on her hair and guide her just how I like it, even though it doesn’t seem she needs my help. I hardly blink while I take in the breathtaking sight in front of me. Her head bobs on my cock, and the sensation of her moans vibrating against my shaft is killing me.
My muscles tense, and before I come, I warn her in case she wants to pull away. She doesn’t. I release her hair and stroke her cheek as she swallows my come.
“How do I taste?” I ask.
She runs her tongue along her bottom lip. “Better than any pizza or dessert in the world.”
I’m lightheaded while coming down from the high of my cock being in Stella’s sweet mouth. I help her up to her feet and guide her straight to a seated weight bench. A gasp leaves her when I retreat a step and pull down her pants and panties to her ankles—not bothering to have her kick them off. My cock is hard again when I twist her around and bend her over, her ass in the air. Her back arches at the same time I slide inside her.
She rests her palms on the front of the seat and throws her head back to look at me. “I have a feeling I’m about to work that pizza off.”
“I’ve definitely worked up an appetite now,” Stella says.
We’re sitting on the floor, panting, and trying to catch our breath after the best workout of my life. Hands fucking down I’ll never see a view as hot as Stella bent over a weight bench taking my cock.
I drag the pizza box to us. “You deserve this, babe. No doubt you burned every calorie you’ve eaten this month from fucking me so hard.”
She grabs a slice and takes it with both hands. “I’m almost too exhausted to feed myself.”
I set my piece on the floor and grab hers—positioning it at her mouth while she opens and takes a bite.
She laughs after swallowing it. “We’re sitting on the floor, sans pants, and stuffing our faces with pizza.”
“I have a feeling this is the most romantic post-sex situation there’s ever been.”
We spend the next five minutes finishing our food and chugging water. I’m chewing my last bite when Stella’s mood shift into something that resembles nervousness.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I tell her.
She waves off my question. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
She crosses her legs, and her nervousness morphs into shyness. “Will you sleep in my bed tonight?”
I grin. “Are you ready to take this relationship to the next level, Hollywood?”
She pushes my shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“I’d love nothing more than to share your bed with you.”
She looks up at me with a smile.
“Only because I’m sure it’s a lot more comfortable than mine.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re so damn annoying.” She pauses. “I mean … is that taking a step too far in a casual sexual relationship? This is all new to me.”
“You do remember I’ve only fucked one other chick in my life? It’s new to us both. How about this: we make our own rules since neither one of us knows what’s in the sex only relationship playbook? Sound good?”
She nods. “Sounds good.”
Twenty-Five
Stella
I haven’t been this happy in so long.
My bed has never felt so comfortable as it does when I’m wrapped in Hudson’s arms. His legs are tangled in mine, and the heat of his chest is perfection against my back.
All night, I’ve been swept into a cheesy-happy faze. I’m scared to shut my eyes and sleep.
What if I wake up and it’s not real?
Now that Hudson is opening up to me, I’m terrified to lose him.
I was on an orgasm high when I invited him into my bed, and surprisingly, the casual sex talk didn’t have me running for the hills. It cleared up so much of my confusion … but not all of it. What’s in his head is a mystery.
Are his feelings as deep as mine?
He’s letting me in—something he hasn’t done with many people and is hard for him. That tells me I’m edging myself inside him.
Will he allow me to stay?
Or, am I only a pit-stop in his journey?
My head aches at the thought of him leaving me and falling for a woman from his world. A woman his mom loves and enjoys similar things. A woman who’ll build a life with him in his hometown.
Me?
I’ve discovered I don’t need a man who blends in with my lifestyle anymore.
It hasn’t worked out well for me in the past.
All I care about is being happy.
Finally, I’ve found a good man, and I don’t know how long he’s staying.
I’m startled when his lips go to my ear, and he whispers, “Everything okay? I’m not squeezing the life out of you, am I?”
I shake my head as goosebumps crawl up my arms. “No … just having trouble sleeping. You’re still awake?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Nervousness is laced along his words. “I’m only telling you this in case it happens. The last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of you … or for you to think there’s something wrong with me.”
I gulp. “Go on.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What? Do you piss the bed or something?”
He chuckles. “I wish it were as easy as controlling my bladder. I have dreams.”
“I think almost everyone does.”
“Let me rephrase it for you. They’re more along the lines of nightmares … flashbacks … of shit that I’ve witnessed but never want to think about again.”
I shift in his arms.
I need to face him for this.
He can’t see my face, but I want him to know I’m here for him.
No matter what, dreams or no dreams, I’ll never ask him to leave my bed.
“Like PTSD?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s the worst the first few weeks I’m home, but over time, they decline. It took six months to get rid of them last time.”
His confession sends a bolt of pain through me. I can’t imagine fearing falling asleep … scared of what will haunt you when your eyes closed.
“Have you had any since you’ve been home this time? Since you’ve been here?”
“Every night.”
There’s a brief moment of silence.
“Cameron would wake me up and tell me to stop. According to her, I tossed and turned and made weird sounds. I wanted to give you a heads up, just in case.”
I rub his shoulder. “You’d never scare me. You make me feel safer than anyone.” I grab his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t want to burden you.”
“You can tell me. I want to know anything you’re willing to give. I’m all ears, Hudson. I’m all yours.”
Give me anything.
Give me it all.
Open your heart.
Open your wounds.
Let me try to heal them.
Those words are on the tip of my tongue, but the fear of him leaving my bed stops me from releasing them.
“I’ve seen stuff I wish I didn’t. I�
�ve eaten breakfast with men, they’ve showed me pictures of their families, their pregnant wives, babies, and then saw them die hours later. I’ve dragged children.” His voice cracks, and his pain bleeds through the room. “I’ve dragged children out of rubble … some of them … dead. Some alive. Their faces … they haunt me.” He kisses my forehead. “Maybe with you in my arms, I’ll sleep better.”
I sigh dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to do it then.”
He chuckles in my ear. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”
I smile.
Twenty-Six
Hudson
The shrill of my phone ringing wakes me, and the sheets moving tells me it did the same with Stella.
It’s early, nowhere near sunrise, and I release her to scoot to the edge of her bed. I grab my phone, and fear rips through me when I see Dallas’s name on the screen.
This isn’t a call to chat.
It’s a call that’s going to wreck my world.
I hurriedly answer, shoving the phone to my ear, and my heart pounds against my chest so hard I can feel it in my ears. “What happened?”
“It’s Lucy.” His voice breaks. If he goes on, he’s going to lose it.
“I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, brother.”
The call ends.
I roll out of bed and start to shuffle around the room as quietly as I can, hoping Stella can fall back asleep. I snag my pants and attempt to shove my foot through the leg, but it’s difficult to do.
Maybe it’s the nerves.
I freeze when the light turns on. Stella yawns as she pulls her hand away from the lamp and situates herself with her back against the headboard.
“Hudson,” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“You’re trying to put my pants on.”
I look down and realize I’m trying to squeeze into white skinny jeans. I pull them off my foot and lay them over a chair.
“What’s going on?” she asks in concern.
Just a Fling Page 13
