Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

HUDSON

I move into the kitchen. My footsteps echo against the wooden floor, each stride resonates like a whisper in the quiet night. I reach into the fridge, grab the eggnog, and then turn my attention toward the cabinet where a bottle of spiced rum awaits. The amber liquid swirls slightly, catching the dim light as I set it on the counter.

Emma's presence hums at my back, and I feel her gaze tracing every move I make.

A thrill stirs in my chest, igniting a flicker of excitement I haven’t felt in ages. It's a match struck in the dark, illuminating possibilities I had buried five years ago when my wife left me. I never thought I'd experience this again.

When I glance over my shoulder, our eyes lock. Her gaze is unwavering. Emma Manchester is looking at me like that .

A quiet curiosity lingers in her expression, and it holds me captive. My pulse quickens, each beat echoing in the room's stillness. I want to memorize how this woman is looking at me—as if I’m the only thing in the world worth watching, the center of her universe.

I savor this moment, indulging in the electricity that courses between us. Her eyes radiate an intriguing intensity, drawing me deeper with each passing second.

She licks her swollen lips, the ones I was devouring like my life depended on it, and a heat surges through me. “Do you want it how Mawmaw makes it?”

She smirks, a playful glint in her eye that poisons my mind with vivid thoughts of her body pressed against mine. “Sure. I'd love to know her ratios.”

Emma is buzzed; I can tell by how her cheeks flush, glowing pink. This drink will lead her straight to Wastedville. While reckless anticipation ignites, I can't cross the line with her. Not like this. I fill a glass a quarter-full with rum, the liquid dark and inviting, then top it off with eggnog before stirring it with a spoon. Unspoken words linger in the air.

“Ah, so what's the secret ingredient?” Her brows raise playful, curiosity etched across her face.

“Me.” I dip my finger into the glass, then place it into my mouth, savoring the taste with a wicked grin. I wish it were her .

Her cheeks flush like she's remembering the other day. Fuck, how I wish I could read every dirty thought in her beautiful mind. I want to unravel the mysteries behind her every glance, knowing she's not the woman I assumed her to be.

I pour more rum into my glass before turning to face her. Excitement swirls within me, thickening the air.

Silence stretches between us, heavy with meaning and unspoken words.

“What is this ? What are we doing, Em?” I ask, confusion weighing heavily on me.

Fear creeps up inside me. I'm falling too hard and fast.

“I don't know. I've never felt this before,” she admits, her voice vulnerable.

My brows furrow in concern. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “Why are you apologizing?”

I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. I brush my fingers down the side of her face, the warmth of her skin sending my heart racing. She smiles up at me, and in that moment, the world fades away. “I'm truly sorry that no one has ever made your heart skip a beat, and that it was me who did.”

“What are you afraid of?” she asks, her warm gaze pulling me deeper in.

“Falling in love with someone who leaves when things get too real,” I confess, the words spilling out like a secret. “Kind of like how you did after our night together in July.”

She gasps, her eyes widening in shock. “You swore we’d never speak about that. We were starting over.”

“Yeah? But you've told me several times you don’t do second chances, and yet here you are. Explain that, Emma.”

“Guess we're both liars,” she responds, that same destructive spark igniting between us.

Neither of us stands a chance at winning this. The tension has been building for four months.

“I won't pretend we never existed,” I admit. “I can't do that anymore.”

She takes a ragged breath as my fingers weave through her hair, the silky strands slipping between my fingers. I tilt her head back when my mouth hovers just inches from hers, teasingly close. My girl likes it a little rough. “You've been thinking about me every damn day since you left, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. A fierce intensity swirls in the air. “You ruined me, Hudson. So fucking bad. I should’ve stayed away, but I can't. I'm drawn to you.”

Hearing those words sends a wave of satisfaction through me. Spiced rum courses through my veins, encouraging me forward. I crash my lips against hers, knowing I'll never satisfy my hunger for her.

She’s so desperate for me that she reaches for the top button of my jeans, her fingers trembling slightly with need. I want her, I want her so badly I can barely think straight.

“You've had too much to drink,” I whisper, my voice low as I place tender kisses along her jawline.

“Hudson,” she breathes, her eyes flickering with that familiar flame.

“I want to, but I can't . You need to decide if you're going to be mine for the holidays when you're completely sober. We both know tipsy Emma is a reckless girl who only cares about one thing.” My cock, I want to say, but don't have to.

“You're still playing hard to get,” she scoffs, trying to hide her desire, but I can hear the slurring creeping into her words.

“Trust me, I'm not, but I can if you'd rather do this the hard way.”

“Speaking of hard.” She runs her palm down the front of my jeans, her touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I nearly shudder; it feels incredible. “Why do you have to be so fucking respectful? I want you, Hudson. Sober or drunk.”

“Emma,” I growl. “If you keep it up, I won't touch you until Christmas.”

Her mouth drops open in shock as she steps back. “You wouldn't dare.”

My eyes narrow and I smirk. It's a challenge. “ Try me .”

Emma tilts her head, feigning innocence as a sultry smile plays on her lips.

“It's so hot in here,” she says before peeling off her sweater, revealing her soft curves. Her breasts are on full display, enough to make my breath catch.

“That's not going to work,” I say as she slowly slips out of her shiny red skirt, the fabric glides down her legs. She's wearing a red thong and a garter belt, the lacy straps hugging her hips and accentuating her curves.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous,” I tell her, my voice strained as her hands explore every inch of her skin. “Emma,” I warn, my cock throbbing with anticipation of having her again.

Together, we’re electric and consuming.

Her fingers slide between her legs, and she whispers a moan that sends a jolt straight to my core. “This could be you.”

I lean against the counter, downing the rest of my drink desperately trying to cool the fire blazing inside of me. She slips her fingers inside her pussy before placing them in her mouth. “Mm. Don't you want a taste? I'm so fucking wet for you, Hudson.”

The alcohol burns my throat as I move past Emma, her intoxicating scent lingering in the air. “Well, good night.”

She groans, and for a moment, I think she might throw a fit like a child denied a toy. “That didn't even break you?”

“I warned you I was a player in a past life,” I say, taking the stairs two at a time. “I know the game, babe. Sexy as hell, but no means no .”

“You're frustrating!” she calls after me, her voice a mix of annoyance and longing.

“I warned you about that too. And yet, you're still here. You're obsessed with the chase, Em. Like a goddamn addict.”

She groans as I ascend the stairs, and I know I need to keep my distance before she breaks down my defenses. Emma is drunk and needy, a dangerous combination that threatens to consume us both. When we're together again, it won’t be lost in a haze of alcohol and unspoken desires. We both deserve to fully experience the weight of our connection and feel its strength without the blur of impaired inhibitions. Last time was... earth-shattering .

I step into my room, shedding my clothes as I head to the bathroom. My cock throbs as I step under the hot stream; the hot water cascades over my skin. With a firm grip, I lose myself in thoughts of Emma.

Her name escapes my lips, and the image of her pretty lips dances in my mind. The taste of our slow, passionate kisses has me nearly losing myself. I still remember the sound she made the first time I made her come. Her moans still echo in my ears. I recall how she tasted on my tongue—sweet and intoxicating.

We agreed to keep what we shared a secret—a careless deal made in the heat of the moment. But that night, our hearts truly bonded; together, we became something more . Yet she left unexpectedly the next day, departing without explanation and leaving my world incomplete.

I think about her grinding against me, her body slick with heat, my name escaping her lips like an incantation. It stirs something primal within me—a hunger that will never fade. The fact that she returned only adds fuel to the fire wreaking havoc on my thoughts.

My breathing quickens, and the orgasm rips through me, tearing through my body with an unspeakable force. Words don't exist, and I groan loudly, hoping she doesn't hear me. I stroke hard and long, every movement electric, the sensation nearly taking me to my knees. I brace myself against the bathroom wall, fighting pleasure. I've never come so fucking hard in my life.

“I'm in love,” I whisper to myself, the realization crashes into me. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Elated yet terrified, I dry off and pull on some joggers, my mind still fogged with thoughts of her. I realize I left my phone on the kitchen counter, so I head that way.

The sound of running water fills the silence around me. When I pass Emma’s door, I hear her cry out—a moan that sends a jolt of panic through my veins. I push the bedroom door open wider, my heart racing. When I catch a glimpse of her in the bathtub, I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as I realize her hand is between her legs.

“Yes, yes,” she gasps, lifting her long leg onto the lip of the tub and rocking her hips. Water sloshes slightly as she works herself, urgency evident in her movements. Her back arches and the sight quickens my pulse.

“Fuck. Hudson ,” she whispers my name, breathy and pleading. “ Hudson .”

Against my better judgment, I move closer. I should turn away, allow her the moment.

“Emma,” I manage to say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

Suddenly, she screams, water splashing onto the floor, surprise evident in her wide eyes. A rubber ducky is clutched in her hand. Its bright yellow color stark against the white tub.

“Oh my fucking God!” she exclaims, grabbing one of her shampoo bottles and hurling it in my direction.

“You summoned me,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

I glance down at the duck, its mouth moving as if it holds the secrets of our twisted encounter. “Is that a sex toy?”

Her cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Fuck, babe. Don't you dare stop on my behalf.”

Her eyes darken, an invitation wrapped in desire, as she slowly licks her lips. I lean against the vanity, my breath caught as she slides the ducky back down to her clit.

“What were you thinking about?” I ask, leaning into the moment and savoring every second.

She gasps, fucking that little duck’s mouth. In the back of my mind, I know I’ll be jacking off again before bed—there's no doubt about that.

“Your mouth on me,” she confesses, desire spills from her lips with each ragged breath. “The first time we were together.”

“I wanted you the moment I saw you,” she admits. The tension between us is palpable as we walk through the door of Claire's house. Our mouths are desperate, our hands greedy, and the air is thick with desire.

“I felt that, too,” I admit. It was as if the entire world tilted when our gazes locked, a sudden shift, one I couldn't deny. Knowing she's Claire's little sister...

Emma rips open my shirt, buttons flying across the floor like confetti at a chaotic celebration. “I don't do flings,” she says with fierce determination as my fingers thread through those wild strands. “You're the exception.”

“Keep it that way,” I demand, kissing the inside of her neck. She gasps as I savor the taste of her sweet skin. Emma removes her shirt and carelessly tosses it aside, leaving it in a heap on the floor.

Claire moved out months ago, leaving this place echoing with memories, but it has been vacant since December. The Christmas decorations still loom in the space. Decorations hang like ghosts of holidays past.

Emma reaches for my jeans. “I want to lick every fucking ridge of you,” she breathes out.

I pull away from her, abruptly aware of the uncharted territory we’re entering. “You told me your dumb as fuck rules. Are you sure you can handle this? The next time I see you, are you certain you want me to pretend like this never happened?”

“Yes, it's for the best,” she asserts, a determined glint in her eye as she slips out of her tiny shorts. The fabric falls away, revealing her smooth skin.

I kiss her passionately, pouring all my pent-up desire into every breath, wanting to savor every inch of her. It may be our first time together, but I'm convinced she's my soul mate.

“Fuck, Hudson,” Emma groans, pulling me from my memory.

“Come for me,” I whisper, my voice low and coaxing as she teeters on the edge of ecstasy.

She hisses through clenched teeth. “I'm...so close.”

“You're so sexy,” I growl.

Her body seizes and convulses as she rides the waves of pleasure.

“Hudson,” she whispers, her eyes traveling up my body, filled with vulnerability and intensity. “I'm already addicted to you.”

I inhale deeply. “All you have to do is stay.”

“Then ask me to.”

I move toward the tub and bend over, kissing her sweetly, leaving a lingering taste of hope and desire. I needed it as much as she did. “I'll never ask you to stay if you want to go. That's a decision you have to make on your own.”

I pull away from her, seeking clarity in chaos. “I'm gonna grab my phone and another glass of eggnog. Want one?”

Her breasts rise and fall with each breath. “Yes, please. Just how Mawmaw makes it.”