Hudson tossed a lingering stare over his shoulder at the piano, then smirked down at her. “Thoroughly fucked across the room, Miss Sinclair.”
“Beautiful piano. How long have you played?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why do you have one?”
“Because that’s what rich people do. Buy things they don’t need.” He sat up in a fluid movement and cradled Allie between his legs.
She looked up at him incredulously. “So you have a Fazioli grand piano in your home that has never been played?”
“Except by your ass.”
Her brow arched. “That’s a very expensive piano to have only been played by my ass.”
“Worth every fucking cent.”
Chapter Sixteen
Hudson knew he was in a dream, because for a split second he was happy. Then the gun went off. And all he saw was red. The horror of the nightmare unfolded before him, clear as the first time he’d had it as a child and every time since. He fell to his knees, the threads of his jeans drinking the crimson liquid as it spread around him. He couldn’t move, and in his body’s paralysis, fear ripped through him. Someone was screaming.
No, crying.
Nick’s tearstained face contorted in terror as hands pulled him out of Hudson’s reach, his shoes squeaking on the floor as they dragged him away.
Hudson curled his fists and punched them into the mattress as he shot up. His breathing was ragged. Shit, his heart was pounding so hard against his chest. He whipped the sheets away from his naked body; there was nothing red staining his knees. He bent his legs toward his chest, planted his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands, wishing like hell this panicked, helpless feeling would go away. This attachment to his guilt and the familiar litany of shame sank bone deep.
He pushed his hands back through his hair, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow. He glanced over at the empty space next to him and began to wonder if Allie, breathless as their bodies slid against each other, was all part of a dream, too.
Fuck, he needed to get a grip.
He dropped his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed a pair of gray cotton pants, and pulled them up his thighs. He tied the drawstring as he padded into the main room and spotted Allie in the kitchen. The sight of her leaning into the fridge wearing nothing but his T-shirt made him exhale a heavy breath. His subconscious was still churning out of control but her presence in his kitchen grounded him with an intimacy just as strong as the one they’d shared in bed.
Allie closed the stainless-steel door to the Sub-zero with her hip. She turned around and a smile to launch a thousand ships spread across her face, then faded. “Are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost.” She set the carton of eggs on the counter.
Hell if he was going into the unpleasant details of a trip through his subconscious.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, his voice still groggy from sleep. He inhaled deeply and forced a smile to his face. “Something smells delicious.”
“I’m making breakfast.” She cracked an egg on the rim of the bowl and let out a slight laugh. “Well, more like lunch.”
Hudson’s eyes darted to the digital readout on the oven. “I never sleep in. A new occurrence.”
Allie cracked the last of the eggs into the bowl and began to whisk the contents. “Well, that’s what happens when you fall asleep as the sun is coming up.”
“Or fall asleep with you.” He slid onto a barstool, still trying to shake the nightmare that was clinging to him. “You cook?”
“A few things. My morning repertoire is limited to eggs, bacon, and toast, though. Don’t be expecting me to flip a pancake.” Allie began to open one cupboard after another, then glanced over her shoulder at Hudson. “Plates?”
“To your left,” he said, waving a hand.
“How about you? Know your way around this fancy kitchen?” She opened the cupboard to her left, pulling out a couple white plates.
“A few things.” He frowned. “I learned early how to fend for myself, and someone had to feed Nick.”
“What about your mom?” Allie dumped the eggs into a frying pan, then reached over to pop four slices of bread into the toaster.
“She wasn’t exactly the Betty Crocker type. Besides, she was usually working.” Or drinking herself blind. “Now I have a staff to handle the shopping and cooking, leaving me time to—” he paused, letting his gaze drift leisurely over Allie’s body, lingering on her breasts “—do more important things.”
Allie’s head jerked up from the eggs cooking in the pan. “Staff? Last night when we were—”
“Fucking across the floor like a freight train?” A satisfied grin curved his lips. “Relax. I gave them the weekend off. I assumed you’d prefer it that way.”
“Looks like you also assumed I’d stay.”
“Hoped.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as a flush spread across her cheeks. “Bacon’s almost ready. I seem to have made enough to feed all of Chicago.” Allie opened the oven and bent over to flip the bacon. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Hudson’s eyes locked on the exposed skin between her thighs. “Suddenly starved.” He pushed to his feet and strolled around the breakfast bar. “No panties. I approve.” He so fucking approved. His hands slid under the shirt and over the curves of her naked ass.
“I have you to thank for that, Mr. Chase. I believe my panties are a shredded pile of lace on your living room floor.”
Hudson grinned against her neck. “I’ll do it again if it gets me what I want.” His palms smoothed up the sides of her rib cage and the rough pad of his thumbs brushed over her nipples.
She leaned back against him, her hair soft against his bare chest. He cupped her breasts and his fingers tugged at her nipples.
“Breakfast is never going to be ready if you keep doing that.”
Removing his hands from under her shirt, he skidded the pan across the burner and flipped the gas off. “Breakfast can wait,” he said, lifting Allie onto the counter and spreading her legs wide. “I can’t.”
Chapter Seventeen
Allie rested her head on Hudson’s chest, his heart pounding against her cheek as they struggled to catch their breath. “What is it with you and floors?”
A deep laugh vibrated in his chest. “Merely taking advantage of ample square footage.”
“I’m going to attempt to make breakfast. Again.” She sat up and shot him a look of admonishment before slipping his T-shirt back over her head. “Behave yourself this time.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints on my most recent behavior.”
Her eyes raked over him lying in all his glory on the kitchen floor. Hmm, definitely no complaints. Hudson lifted his hips and pulled his pants up, putting an end to her shameless ogling. Just as well if they had any hope of ever eating breakfast. He leaned forward to tie the drawstring and she watched as his washboard abs curled into a perfect six-pack. She fought the urge to reach out and touch him as her appreciative stare roamed the contours of his naked chest. Must. Cook. Breakfast. She tore her gaze from his body, focusing instead on his handsome face, and an involuntary giggle escaped her lips.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You. Your hair.”
Hudson ran a hand through his unruly locks. “Bed head and amorous fingers. Quite the combination.” He flashed a broad grin as he stood, grabbing Allie by the hand and hauling her to her feet. “I believe I was promised bacon and eggs?”
“Oh, the bacon!” She spun around and opened the oven door. “Hope you like it extra crispy.”
“Perfect. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”