“I’m yours,” I rasp. “I’m yours.”
“Good girl.” His praise is almost enough to make me come. He drives into me now, picking up his pace, andhitting the sweet spot on my anterior wall. “God, Wren, you’re so beautiful, taking my cock like this. I wish you could see yourself from where I am.”
My legs are shaking, hips twitching, but my gaze is locked in on Hudson, the sheen of sweat on his brow. His thrusts are hard and deep and fast, and an electrifying tingle zips up my core, shooting out from my centre like lightning. Pleasure crashes over me in waves, my walls clenching around Hudson’s girth.
“Holy shit,” I whimper as my body slumps onto the counter, every muscle giving out in the aftermath of my orgasm. Hudson thrusts into me a few more times, and I feel him pump into me, finding his own release. He groans as he fills me, and slumps over my bent frame, trailing feather-light kisses down my spine. I shiver at the feeling of them, relishing the attention from him, the tenderness he shows me even now.
That’s the Hudson I’ve always loved. The man who plays with me, who gives me toe-curling orgasms, but who never fails to infuse everything with a soft, comfortable intimacy.
“Wait for a second,” he says, removing himself from me and turning to take a rolled up plush washcloth from a basket on the counter. He soaks it in warm water and kneels behind me, cleaning me gently. Once he’s done wiping me, he lets me stand, and I turn to face him, back against the counter. The skirt of my dress falls like a cascading waterfall around my legs, down to my ankles. Hardly a wrinkle in sight.
“I like the way you claim me,” I say, an orgasm-drunk smile sliding lazily across my face. “It makes me want to claimyou, too.”
Hudson dips his head to rest his forehead on mine. I run my hands up and down the silky lapels of his tux, letting myself wade in the cool blue of his eyes. They’re so much brighter, so much deeper, so much more nuanced than they were in the reflection of the mirror, the haze of lust clouding them.
Finding the corner of his shirt collar, crisp and bright white, I plant my lips right in the middle of it, leaving a perfect stamp of my red lipstick. “There. Now everyone at this gallery opening will know who you’re with.”
“Fuck, I love you so much.” Hearing those words from Hudson feels like warm honey. It feels like sunshine after a rainy day. It feels like I’ve fallen deeply, deeply in love with this man.
“I love you, too.”
“Are you ready to go kick some ass tonight?”
“I mean it’s not that kind of event …”
“That doesn’t sound like the Wren Miller I fell in love with.” He backs away from me, his hand sliding down my arm until he twines his fingers through mine. He leads me out of the bathroom, through the hotel room.
“Okay, yeah,” I say, following him out the door. We’re already late—our car has probably been waiting out front for the last fifteen minutes while we’ve been … otherwise occupied. A flush spreads up my cheeks and heats my face. I have to put it out of my mind if I’m going to focus on the opening. “Let’s kick some ass.”
CHAPTER 37
HUDSON
I still can’t getover how breathtaking Wren looks in that red dress. The deep, blood red is striking against her pale skin. And the fact that she’smine? We’re stepping out of the black town car that picked us uptogether? It still amazes me. I glance over at her as she gets out of the car and stands next to me.
The art show has already started, the crowd inside visible through the expansive windows at the front of the building. The gallery is located on the outskirts of Vancouver, nestled in the thick, towering, regal evergreens. But the building itself has a rustic feel.
It’s already dark out, so the place is illuminated only by a soft, ambient glow. Fairy lights are strung up in the lower boughs of the trees leading up to the entrance, and the effect is enchanting.
Wren is enchanting.
She lets out a sigh, still standing at the edge of the pathleading to the heavy wooden doors. Something is weighing on her, keeping her feet stuck in place.
“We’re kicking ass tonight, remember?” I remind her, but still, she doesn’t move to go inside.
“Kicking ass, right,” she says absentmindedly before turning to look back at me. “I just wish my parents could be here. And strangely enough, Claire, too. I finally feel successful, andhappy, and … they won’t get to see it because they’re too stubborn and stuck in their own ways.”
My mouth forms a tight line, and I nod slightly, looking down at my feet. Although I understand where she’s coming from, wanting her family to see her for who she truly is, to celebrate her achievements, I can’t help but feel like she needs to let go of caring about their opinions altogether. She gave them their chance, and if they don’t want to be a part of this, share in her success, bear witness to her becoming … it’s their loss.
I look up at her from under my eyebrows and instinctively reach for her hand. My fingers wrap around hers, giving it three consecutive squeezes.
“I’m here. I’ll always be here,” I remind her. “It’s their loss. Wren: 100, Brenda and Ian: zero,” I say, and it earns me an appreciative smile. She squares her shoulders, squeezes my hand back, and we head inside.
Heads turn as we walk through the door, hand in hand. All eyes land on Wren. Whispers ripple out through the crowd that she has arrived, as people recognize her from the small photo on the wall next to her paintings.
I only notice it there because Wren’s painting is front andcentre as we enter. The one she painted at the swimming hole. Next to it is the one she was working on the day I ended up with my head between her legs on the kitchen chair. Her paintings are meaningful to me, but probably for different reasons than most.
“Wren! You’re here!” an unfamiliar voice calls out, causing both of us to look around to find the source. A woman parts the crowd and approaches Wren with both arms open. She’s got long, dark grey hair cascading in waves down her back with one streak of white through the front section. She jingles when she walks, her silver bracelets clinking together. “I’m Gwen,” she says as she backs away from pulling Wren in for a double cheek kiss.
