Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Whitney

Hudson threw a generous wad of cash on the table to cover the check and Parker's tip. Taking my hand, he led me to the group of his teammates and their girlfriends. "We're heading out."

Beck shook his head and mouthed, "Newlyweds." Heat crept up my cheeks at his implication, and Hope playfully slapped his arm. Hudson grinned and gave him the finger.

Hope shook her head at the two knuckleheads, and we shared a smile. "I'll see you at the book signing tomorrow night. Six o'clock at Keeper's Books on El Camino Real?" she asked.

"Yep. See you then!" I waved goodbye to a chorus of goodnight s, and we worked our way through the bar's thinning crowd to the sidewalk. Car and pedestrian traffic had died down, and we encountered only a few fans on the way to the players' parking lot. I wished I'd worn my hoodie with pockets for the chilly night. I slipped my hand into Hudson's and he tightened his hold.

He opened the SUV's door for me, and I slid onto the leather seat. Rounding to his side of the car, he took off his suit coat, laid it in the back, and dropped into the driver's seat. He started the car and turned up the heat. I held my cold fingers in front of the vent, but Hudson took them in his warm hands and rubbed until they warmed up.

And melted my heart.

This man had been touching my heart all evening. He'd entered the patio like he'd been on a mission. And when his gaze met mine, I knew his plan had been to find me as soon as possible. And I wanted to be found. I couldn't help but respond to his fervor. Abandoning all decorum, I'd thrown myself at him and he'd rewarded me with a velvet kiss that felt genuine.

Not for the sake of PDA.

And then he'd thoughtfully taken care of me, ordering food he knew I'd like when my stomach growled. The memory of him feeding me by hand made my core heat. He said he'd never love again, but his romantic side had come out to play when he asked me to dance, tucking me against his hard, sculpted body.

Hudson had made clear that evening he cared for me. His actions spoke louder than his words of denial. He might not love me, but I meant something to him. The desire I'd dammed broke through and flooded me. I placed my hand on his corded thigh and whispered, "Take me home."

His gaze met mine, and his pupils darkened. He jammed the car into gear, sped around slow traffic, and pulled into our parking lot in record time. He abandoned his suit coat in the car and, hand in hand, we jogged along the hall to our apartment door. Our . When had Hudson's apartment started feeling like home?

He fumbled with the keypad, having to enter the code twice. When he finally pushed the door open and it fell shut behind us, we quickly ditched our shoes. I whirled on him. Grabbing his silky tie, I yanked him down while I stood on my tiptoes. Our mouths fused, tongues twining and tangling. My blood heated with desire. But he broke the kiss too soon, and I whimpered in protest.

He rested his forehead against mine, panting, the scent of cinnamon gum filling the air. "Bedroom. Our first time won't be a hard fucking against a door."

I raised an eyebrow. "Next time?"

A slow grin spread across his face, and his pupils expanded with desire. "I like the way you think." He scooped me into his arms and I squealed, laughing. Heady hunger filled me as he held me tight against his solid chest. I wound my arms around his neck, capturing the marauder. Butterflies twirled in my stomach. This was my husband , and he cared for me. I could indulge in my desires.

I barely glimpsed Mr. Darcy streaking out the bedroom door before Hudson threw me onto the bed. I landed with a bounce and a girlish giggle I didn't recognize as mine. My glasses slipped down my nose, and I placed them on the nightstand.

He climbed onto the bed, hovered over my prostrate form, and caged me in with his strong arms. Nudging my legs apart, he settled his hips into the V of my thighs. The large bulge of his hard groin met my hot core.

I sucked in a breath and undulated against his cock. The delicious friction—even through my jeans and his pants—built up my need. His low, anguished moan told me he felt the mounting desire, too. He swooped down and sealed my mouth with his, sweeping his tongue across the seam of my lips and seeking entrance. I opened for him, and his tongue slipped against mine, teasing and tantalizing.

The few men who had kissed me before Hudson had all taken, not given. It was as if they'd kissed me for their own benefit, as a prelude to their own pleasure .

Not Hudson.

He kissed me as if I meant something to him. As if I were a precious partner to be adored and aroused. He was giving me a kiss, for my pleasure. Not taking it for his. This man, who vowed he would never love again, was a romantic who spoke to my heart.

He broke the kiss with a few scattered pecks on my lips, nose, and eyelids. I murmured my protest at the loss of his mouth, but it died when he sat back on his heels and yanked off his tie. He threw the length of silk onto the nightstand and then attacked the buttons of his starched dress shirt. It hit the floor, followed by his undershirt. He scrubbed a hand over his lightly furred chest, then whipped his belt from his pants and tossed it. It landed…somewhere…with a metallic clank.

My hands trembling with nervousness, I undid the button of his suit pants. I unzipped the fly tooth by tooth, the sound loud in the quiet room. I reached inside and rubbed the large girth of his hot cock through the knit jersey of his black boxer briefs. He hissed in a breath at my touch.

He gripped my wrist, halting my exploration. "Now you." His eyes burned into mine. He removed my clothes, item by item, kissing each inch of skin as he exposed it, leaving tiny quivers in his wake. Finally, I lay naked and needy.

He straddled my thighs. Lit by the light seeping through the blinds, he was a carved Greek statue come to life. The perfect specimen of hard, corded muscle. I opened my arms. "I want you," I whispered. My heart tripped, ready to start a new chapter in our marriage. To turn the page to a new connection between us. A new commitment.

He took me by the wrists and pushed my arms down to my sides. I frowned. "But I want to touch you. "

"Keep your arms by your sides, baby. Hold on to the duvet if you need to."

"Wha—?"

He scattered kisses in a line from my navel downward and kissed me gently…there. Right where I throbbed with heat.

I jerked at his touch and clutched the covers. "Oh!"

He lay flat between my legs, his upper body braced on his elbows, and chuckled. "You okay with this?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes!" If he gave as much with his tongue as he did with his kisses…

I didn't have to wonder for long. He was very giving. And very talented. The duke could take lessons from him. Hudson licked, flicked, and nipped as if my pleasure was his.

I let go of the duvet and grabbed his short hair, holding him to me. Tension coiled in my muscles, and I trembled. "I'm…I'm…"

He sucked .

My release tore through me. My toes curled, my back arched, and I cried out. I saw stars. Heck, I saw the entire Milky Way galaxy before my vision returned, and I fell back onto the bed, sated and boneless. "That was…"

"I'm not done with you yet. You're going to come again." He stood and stripped off his pants and boxer briefs. His heavy cock bobbed free.

Come again ? That only happened in my books. That didn't happen in real life.

Did it?

Hudson stroked himself, root to tip, one of the hottest gestures I'd ever seen. "Do you want me?" Eyes hooded, his deep voice rumbled. Goosebumps raised on my arms.

Even through my blurry vision, I could tell his muscles strained from coiled tension. I could only nod.

"I need the words, baby. "

"Yes, please," I whispered. This is what I wanted . It was more than meaningless sex. Could it be more for him, too?

After rolling on a condom from the nightstand drawer, he resumed his position, hovering over me. He peppered a path of tiny kisses from my lips to my breasts, his breath warm against my skin. Taking one sensitive peak into his mouth, he nibbled and sucked until I writhed beneath him.

When he paid the same attention to the other side, I wrapped my legs around his hips and rubbed against his hot, hard length. "Now," I moaned, begging.

Taking himself in hand, he entered with care, allowing me to adjust to his size. He bottomed out and groaned. "You're so tight and hot." He ground his teeth. "I'm not going to last long." Slowly sliding out and slipping back in, he said, "But you, first." As if he were a rubber band stretched too tight, he snapped. He let loose, setting up a punishing pace. And with each thrust, he rolled his hips and touched me in just…the right…spot.

I panted, tingles beginning in my curling toes and spreading to my scalp. Pressure mounted in my veins as he made good on his promise to make me come again. He tweaked my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I exploded like a supernova, with his name on my lips. My eyes slid shut as my vision sheeted white.

I barely registered Hudson planting himself deep, shuddering, and shouting. He dropped to his elbows and laid his head between my breasts, panting. "Fuck, Whitney. I'm dead."

I chuckled and ran my hands across his broad shoulders.

He raised his head, planted a kiss on my lips, and eased out. "I'll be right back." He leaped off the bed, spry for a man who was dead.

I grinned and blew out a happy sigh, my chest light.

Hudson disappeared into the bathroom and returned after a minute with a soft hand towel. After gently cleaning my delicate flesh and tossing the towel into the hamper, we crawled under the covers and he pulled me against his side. I wrapped my arm around his waist and snuggled my head into the crook of his shoulder, the cuddling as intimate as the pleasure we'd shared. He kissed my forehead.

I not only felt satisfied, I felt cared for.

My heart lifted. Could his tender care grow into the love I longed for?

In romance novels, the marriage-of-convenience trope always ended with a happily ever after.

But this was real life, and I couldn't write our ending.

Or could I?