Remind Me Page 7
Chapter Ten
Hudson wasn’t expecting anyone. He finished buttoning his shirt and shoved the tails into his pants while making his way over to the phone. A muscle in his jaw flexed as he picked up the direct line to the front desk. He hoped like fuck it wasn’t another one of those Architectural Digest geeks stopping by on the off chance he’d let her take a look at the place.
“Chase,” he said, holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear as he zipped his fly.
“Good evening, Mr. Chase. You have a visitor, Miss Alessandra Sinclair.”
Surprise flared in his eyes and tension weaved through his shoulders. “Send her up.” Hudson set the phone back in its cradle and ran a quick hand through his damp hair.
A subtle ping announced the elevator’s arrival as he strode into the main room. When he reached the foyer, the doors slid open and Alessandra was right there, her finger jackhammering the buttons on the panel.
The doors began to glide closed, and lightning quick Hudson stabbed his arm in their way. His eyes darted from her Band-Aid of a sports bra to the tight black running pants, then drifted over every fucking inch of exposed skin, glossy with a sheen of sweat.
Sweet fucking hell.
His hand clenched against the urge to touch her, to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked. “I’m a little surprised to see you standing in my elevator, Alessandra.”
Her words tumbled out quickly, “I was running along the lake, and next thing I knew I was at Oak Street Beach and then . . . I don’t know, I just ended up in front of your building.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “This is a bad idea. I should go.” She reached for the panel, no doubt to get to work on those buttons again.
“After you’ve gone through all the trouble?” He stepped aside. “Come in.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“In another five minutes it will be dark. Come in. I’ll drive you.” Allie hesitated. His palm gripped the edge of the door and he pushed it back as it began to close again. “In or out, Miss Sinclair?”
Reluctantly she stepped off the elevator. Hudson dropped his arm and moved with her, the elevator doors whispering closed behind him. Her soft-soled shoes made no sound on his dark wood floors as she headed toward the sweeping view that any artist would go to his grave attempting to duplicate. One he felt privileged to have¸ but perhaps took for granted. The entire city of Chicago was revealed below, its glittering lights and the cascading traffic a mesmerizing display.
Hudson leaned his hip against the breakfast bar. He watched Allie as she examined the room, looking for what, he wasn’t sure. Insight? As if he could be figured out by the overpriced items selected by an overpaid designer.
She paused in front of a polished steel sculpture, her fingers skimming over the curved edges. The presence of her in his place tightened his skin and an instinctive demand shot down to his groin. His eyes deliberately drifted along the curve of her hips and down her long, athletic legs. He relished the memory of those soft feminine curves underneath him, gasping and leaving him practically begging.
He bit down on a groan. “Are you a fan of Kapoor?”
Jerking her hand away, she looked over at him. “The artist who designed the Bean?”
Hudson nodded.
Confused, Allie looked back at the mirrored sculpture. “I thought he only did public commissions.”
He smirked. “Something to drink?”
“I’d love a water,” she said, still admiring the piece.
Hudson yanked the Sub-zero open, the cool air wafting from the stainless steel box as he pulled out a bottle of water. When he turned around, Allie’s gaze slid up and a perfect blush heated her cheeks. Not from exertion, but because she’d been caught checking him out. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he set the bottle in front of her.
“You look nice. Have a hot date?” Allie cracked open the bottle of water and took a sip.
Hudson leveled his stare. His expression remained impassive. “I do, yes.” He lingered on her face, cataloging the delicate details and catching an imperceptible flinch of . . . “You’re not jealous, are you, Miss Sinclair?”
Fifteen minutes ago he thought he knew the answer to that question, but that was before she showed up at his penthouse half-naked. He held her stare, willing her to say one simple word. Bastard that he was, he’d drop everything, cancel his date, and spend the remainder of the evening between her thighs.
“Of course not.” A brief scowl creased her perfect brow.
His lips twitched. It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for but her expression was indeed an admission of the green-eyed monster lurking beneath that beautiful package. “If you say so.”
“Same girl I saw you with the other night?”
“Sophia? Yes.” His words came clipped and fast.
“Pretty name. Suits her.” She avoided his stare and twisted the cap on and off the water bottle. “So, how long have the two of you been together?”
“We’re not.” He took a deep breath, counting the seconds it would take to get her completely naked. “Ready to go?”
Allie frowned. “Still, you must like her to be in such a rush.”
Hudson took a few quick strides toward her. “On the contrary, Alessandra, I’m in a rush because I’m dying to peel you out of that little number you’re wearing and fuck you on that barstool until you beg me to stop.” His stare burned into her. “And believe me, as hard as I am right now, I’m just crazy enough to do it.” She flushed, her chest rising with shallow breathes, and he knew she was picturing every detail. “What’s it going to be, Alessandra, barstool or ride home?”
“A ride home would be great.” Her voice was slightly breathless and thoroughly lacking conviction.
“I’ll get my keys.”
***
Hudson gripped the wheel of his Aston Martin, trying to get a bead on the feeling inside his chest. A low hum vibrated through his body, growing more intense the further he got from Allie’s brownstone.
She’d made her feelings on the matter clear, so he’d shoved aside his all-consuming lust. But when he’d said he wanted to fuck her tonight, it was the God’s honest truth, and getting away from her wasn’t helping or easing his need. No cooling of the jets or simmering on a back burner. Damn it, why in the hell did she just happen to stop by his place? Not knowing wasn’t sitting well and heading in the direction he was going seemed like a violation of something pure, something he needed, something meant to be.
The light changed green, and with the reflexes of a race car driver, he hit the gas. The DB9 came awake, roaring across the lanes as Hudson weaved into a turning lane at the next intersection. The light was still green, the arrow a blazing sign telling him what to do. He cranked the wheel with renewed determination and flipped a louie. The DB9 picked up speed, weaving around a soccer-mom special and then a luxury vehicle that was all flash and no dash. Zipping through the intersection and rounding the corner back down Astor, Hudson realized he’d plow down, perhaps kill, anything that got in his way. This time, despite feeling about ten types of stupid for chasing after a woman, he was going to get answers.
Chapter Eleven
Hudson’s hand clenched tightly into a fist and he pounded on the door. He waited ten seconds, then pounded again. Usually he wasn’t into making a scene, but suddenly he didn’t give a shit about pretenses and dove headfirst into Idiotsville.
Just when he was about to rip the damn door off the hinges, it swung open. “Took you long enough.” Not an ounce of amusement resonated in his voice.
Alessandra stared at him for a beat, her face registering disbelief and bewilderment. “I was in the shower.”
Hudson stood framed in the doorway. Right now he wasn’t feeling like the billionaire mogul the rest of the world knew, but a man past the limits of control. His eyes raked over her from head to toe and she pulled the lapels of her robe tighter against his searing gaze. “Why did you come to my place?” he demanded.
“Canceled. Now answer the question.”
“I . . .” She hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know.” Her grip tightened on the silk robe, wrinkling the fabric.
“Bullshit. You do know. You can’t stop thinking about me.” He jutted forward, bracing one hand on the doorjamb. “I know this because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Don’t—”
“Every time I close my eyes I see you, feel your mouth sliding against mine, and it drives me fucking crazy—”
She held up her hand. “Hudson, please stop.”
“Then you show up at my penthouse. And now, knowing you’re naked underneath that robe . . .”
“You can’t keep saying these things to me.”
“You don’t mean that. In fact,” his eyes flicked down briefly to her nipples straining against the thin fabric, begging for his attention, “I think it turns you on.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“Do I? I bet if I rip open that robe and feel between your legs, you’re soaking wet.” His gaze darkened and his voice lowered to an intimate challenge. “Want me to prove it?”
Her jaw dropped. “You need to leave.”
When she made a move to close the door, Hudson’s palm smacked flat against the wood. “Not until you admit I’m right.”
“Is that what this is about, you being right?”
“No, though I am.” His voice took on a decisive edge. “The road is paved in hard truths, Alessandra, not denials.”
“And you think I’m the one in denial?”
His gaze was rock steady. “I know you are. But fuck if I’ll let you push me away again.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” Her voice thinned. “It’s too late for us, Hudson.”
“The hell it is.” His chest expanded and he blew out an exasperated breath. He needed to connect with the girl she used to be, the girl he knew was still there, beneath the layers of socialite status. “Damnit, Allie. Just admit you feel the same.”
“Admit what? That I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I turned around and saw you at the gala? That I can’t stop picturing what could have happened in your office? Or about how part of me was disappointed you didn’t fuck me on that barstool? Is that what you want me to admit, Hudson, that no matter how many years have passed, I still want you as much as I did back then?”
“Yes, I need to hear you say it.”
“I want you.” Her reply was barely audible, but he heard her loud and clear.
His eyes roamed over her face. “Say it again.”
“I want you.”
A beat of silence passed between them, then his hand fisted in her hair, dragging her mouth to his in a kiss that had Allie moaning her surrender. Her lips were hot, her skin flushed and alive. Her entire body radiated a heat and a need he was more than eager to fulfill.
“I’ll have you shouting it by the time I’m through with you.” Hudson kicked the door shut behind him and in one swift move had Allie pressed against the nearest wall, every inch of her body aligned perfectly with his. If there was a point of no return, he’d just passed it. He was driven by a desire so raw, so powerful, that it frayed the last thread of his control.
With need grabbing the reins and taking over, Hudson impatiently yanked the sash of her robe free and stripped the satin off her shoulders.
Jesus Christ, she really was fucking naked. Beautifully naked.
It was difficult to think straight with that much flawless skin in front of him. Every base instinct told him to worship every inch of her until they were both sated.
His hands slid down the sides of her bare breasts, pausing to brush his thumbs across her taut nipples before smoothing over her waist and the curve of her hips; the contours of her familiar even after all these years.
“I didn’t think I’d make it another five minutes without touching you.” He was way past hiding the effect she had on him, or pretending he had any kind of control over the response.
Allie pushed his jacket over his shoulders. He took a half step back and shrugged it the rest of the way off, one arm and then the other, before flinging it to the side. A lamp toppled over on the table beside them and the bulb popped with a flash. As if he gave a shit.
Her greedy fingers clutched handfuls of his shirt as she yanked it out of his pants. One by one she began frantically working the buttons.
“Rip it,” he growled.
Allie tipped her chin up to meet his challenging stare. She was breathless and her eyes glowed with unrestrained lust. Gathering the fabric with both hands, she split it open with a sharp tug. Buttons scattered, ricocheting off walls and disappearing across the hardwood floor.
A low groan vibrated in Hudson’s chest as he claimed her mouth again, his tongue filling her with deep, searing strokes. His hand dropped between her thighs and he grit his teeth. Christ, she was wet. So fucking wet. The rough pad of his thumb stroked over the top of her sex as his middle finger slid inside. Allie moaned as he eased out then back in with a second finger, her hips circling and rocking against the heel of his hand.
With a shift of his wrist he thrust deeper, all the while imagining how good she would feel sliding over his throbbing cock. He was so hard for her it hurt, the culmination of two weeks of foreplay and ten long years envisioning her just like this. God help him, he had to take her. Right here, right now.
“I need to be inside you,” he murmured against her lips. His voice was rough, carnal, and as desperate as the moment between them.
Her hands wasted no time reaching for his fly, jerking his belt loose and yanking his zipper down. She pushed his boxer briefs just low enough to free his aching erection, leaving his pants slung around his hips.
Hudson bent low and lifted her up in a rush, her legs hooked over his arms, his cock laying hot and heavy at the lips of her sex. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don’t stop.” She was breathing hard, panting with need. “Please . . .”
With that he thrust deeply, entering her on a solid stroke, then stilled. If he moved he was going to be royally fucked. She felt so good, too good. Perfect. Like he was made to be inside her.
“Oh, God.” She sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered. “You’re so deep.”
Holding her effortlessly, he pulled out to the tip, then powered into her again. Picture frames rattled on the wall as he took over and over—harder, faster, deeper—fucking her like a man possessed.
Allie’s head rolled back against the wall. Her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted on a soft moan as her entire body began to quake.
“That’s it, feel it for me.” God, he loved seeing her like this. With her back arched, taking all he gave her, his name breathlessly rolling off her tongue.
Her core tightened around him and she cried out, the sounds of her orgasm a symphony as her nails scored his shoulders. The sweet lick of pain that spread across his upper back made him hungrier, greedier.
“Fuck, Allie,” he growled, unable to think past the sensations. His head dropped and he started to come, his cock kicking deep inside her as he pitched over the edge into his own release. Once the tremors subsided, he stilled, leaning heavily against Allie and breathing harshly against her neck. His broad palm smoothed down her thigh and carefully lowered one of her legs to the floor.
Her body sagged against his as she struggled to catch her breath. “That was . . .”
“Not my best effort.” He lifted his head and brushed her hair away from her face. “But Christ, Allie, you make me lose control like a goddamn teenager.”
Hudson cupped her jaw and kissed her softly, feeling his way across her lips. “I think a better demonstration of my skills is in order.” And this time he wanted to look into her eyes as she came.
Still buried inside her, he lowered his head and flicked his tongue reverently
across her nipple before sucking it into his mouth. As he curled his tongue around the taut peak, he watched her teeth sink into her lower lip. Immediately, he felt himself begin to harden again.
Allie’s eyes widened and her breath hitched. “Already?”
“Oh yes.” Trailing both of his hands over the curve of her ass, he picked her up. In one fluid movement, he swept the mail off the console table and laid Allie out on top of it. His hand fell to the back of her thigh, lifting her into a deft roll of his hips as he pushed in deeper. “I have ten years of catching up to do.”
Chapter Twelve
The sound of a phone ringing ripped through the silence of Allie’s bedroom. Hudson slid his arm out from under her, reaching into the darkness to grab it before it woke the whole damn neighborhood. He was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen.
“Nick?” He dropped his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed a hand down his face, forcing himself awake. “What’s wrong?”
“It wasn’t your fault, ya know?” The words fell lazily out of Nick’s mouth.
Hudson looked over his shoulder as Allie began to stir. He lowered his voice. “Fuck, Nick, didn’t we just do this?”
“You were only a kid. Crap hand, Hudson, s’all it was. Just a case of wrong place, wrong time.”
“Where are you?” Hudson scanned the room trying to figure out where the hell his clothes were.
Allie shot up. Hudson’s brow furrowed as she bolted out of the bed and grabbed her robe, wrapping the satin around herself before disappearing into the bathroom.
“And they were wrong about you, anyway.” Nick laughed in a short burst. “My brother who turns shit to gold.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah, and I’m still vertical.” Nick laughed as if he was impressed with himself. Hudson heard the furniture skid as two objects did a meet and greet, then Nick cursed when something crashed to the floor. “Sort of. Hey, you wanna get a beer?”
“Christ, it’s after four. Go to bed, Nick.”
“No? Okay. I’ll throw ’em back for the two of us.” There was the hiss and crack of a bottle being opened, then a cap clinking onto a counter. The telltale signs of his brother’s mission to get rip-roaring. “Cheers, bro.” Nick slugged down whatever number beer he was on and swallowed hard. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you, man. You know that, don’t you?”