He groaned into her mouth. Goddamn, he wanted her to pull harder.
Hudson deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth in lush, firm strokes. His heart pounded and his muscles flexed with restraint. She was delicate and thin against his powerful frame and his body was aware of every soft curve. The contrasts between them extended far beyond the physical. If she was the hottest summer, then he was a stage-five hurricane altering everything in its path.
His hand shifted, splaying his fingers on her ass and urging her against him. God, he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted any other woman, and his cock was pounding, ready to take.
To own.
After all those years of wondering and wanting, he was going to have her, and there wasn’t going to be anything slow or gentle about it.
In a surge of power that roared through his body, Hudson lifted her, and with their mouths still fused, laid her out on his couch. Leveraging over her with his knee pressed into the rich leather and his elbow flush with the cushions, his body lowered, stretching over hers. His hand gripped the back of her knee, curling her leg around his waist. The slit of her burgundy dress fell open and he pressed between her thighs, hissing at the contact he’d been craving. The feel of her beneath him was everything it had been ten years ago; hot, passionate, and so fucking good.
He took her mouth again, kissing her deep and long. As her tongue slid over his, Hudson’s hips rolled with fluidity, massaging the thick ridge of his erection against her sex. The rhythm was deliberate and inexorable.
Allie moaned and her hips tilted up to meet his, responding to his every touch.
“Christ . . . you’re killing me.” He dragged his open mouth down Alessandra’s throat to the deep V of her wrap dress, his lips relentless in their pursuit of her skin. Irritation burned through him at the clothes between them. Lacking the patience to fully undress her, he wrenched open the fabric, exposing perfect breasts covered in black lace.
His breath caught. “Fucking hell. You’re beautiful.” He traced the edges of her bra with his fingertips before palming her breast. The weight was heavy and full in his hand. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips across the rough lace, then tugged her straining nipple between his teeth. A soft gasp escaped her lips.
Her hands raked over his back, pulling him closer as he continued his barrage against her senses. He yanked the lacy cup down and sucked the taut peak into his mouth. Shit, she tasted fantastic. And he bet even better once his tongue was thrusting inside her until she fell apart against his lips.
The sound of a phone ringing ripped through their heavy breathing like a lightning strike.
Alessandra tensed beneath him.
“Ignore it.” He captured her mouth again in slow, teasing licks and she parted her lips, inviting him back in. He had her. She was right there with him.
Ring two.
For the love of fucking God.
“Stop.” Her head arched back. She was breathless, her lips swollen from his merciless kisses.
“Are you going to make me beg for it now like you did back then? Because I will.” Pride be damned. He needed this woman out of his head once and for all. He shifted to her other breast, promptly pulling her nipple between his teeth.
“I can’t do this.” She shoved hard against his chest and pried herself out from under him.
Hudson stood and rearranged himself with a curse.
“I have to go.” Alessandra worked on retying her dress as she rounded the couch and snatched up her purse, the phone still wailing inside it.
He dragged both hands through his hair, waiting for his hard-on to take a number. “Tell me this isn’t about that pretentious fucktwit with the bullshit title?”
Her hazel eyes met his as she yanked open the door. “That pretentious fucktwit is my fiancé.”
All the air sucked out of the room as if he were trapped in a vacuum.
Hudson watched her take off as though she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. For long moments he stood staring blankly at the door, pretty damn sure shock had just taken over.
He should let her go.
He had to let her go.
But he already knew he wasn’t going to.
Chapter Five
Allie couldn’t help but wonder why her father had suggested they meet for dinner at his North Shore country club on a Wednesday night. Richard had scarcely said two words to her—or her mother, for that matter. Instead he’d spent the entire evening huddled with Julian discussing business.
Victoria didn’t seem to mind. She was far too busy catching Allie up on the latest gossip to pay much attention to her husband or future son-in-law. Allie had hoped to discuss the allocation of proceeds from the benefit but her mother was in club mode, not to mention on her third glass of wine, which meant any discussions pertaining to the foundation would have to wait until morning.
Allie watched her mother scan the dining room, her green eyes shifting from one linen-covered table to the next. She knew it wouldn’t be long until there was another scandal or rumor her mother just had to share, although she couldn’t imagine what secrets remained. She’d already heard about every tummy tuck and facelift. She knew whose kids were going to Ivy League schools and whose would be in jail if not for a team of high-priced lawyers. She was caught up on every impending divorce and knew who’d been to rehab, even though they called it a “retreat.”
The moment the server cleared the dinner dishes, Victoria inclined her head toward Allie. “Such a shame.”
“What’s a shame, Mother?” Allie despised gossip she but knew ignoring the comment wouldn’t dissuade her mother. It would only make her angry. Sometimes it was just easier to play along.
“What happened to Jennifer.”
Allie did a quick run-through of her mother’s so-called friends and drew a blank. “Jennifer?”
“Jennifer Larson.” Victoria lifted a perfectly sculpted brow. “Our waitress.”
“Jenny Larson?” Allie peered around her leather wingback chair and caught sight of a young blonde carrying a tray of dirty dishes to the club’s kitchen. “Jenny works here?” she asked after turning back to the table.
“You’d think her mother would have more pride.” Victoria made a clucking sound with her tongue. “But with all their assets frozen . . .”
“What?” Allie asked a bit louder than intended. Julian and her father looked up from their conversation. Her father frowned before turning back to whatever had the two of them so engrossed.
“Honestly, Alessandra, do you listen to a word I say?”
“Of course.” Well, sometimes. “I just don’t remember you saying anything about the Larson’s having their assets frozen.”
“They have Bernie Maddoff to thank for that,” her mother scoffed. “Now it’s freeze first, investigate later.”
Allie sat back in the oversize chair. Jenny Larson, her high school chem lab partner, was waiting tables at the club. Her table. And she hadn’t even noticed.
Victoria reached for her glass of merlot and nodded to a stunning platinum blonde making her way across the dining room. “I’d bet my Mercedes that necklace is a knockoff,” she murmured from behind her wine.
Allie had heard enough. She tuned her mother out, turning her attention to the other side of the table.
Her father was leaning close to Julian. “We’re moving up the timetable,” he said.
“Do we know who it is?” Julian kept his eyes focused on the stem of his wineglass as he rolled it between two fingers.