A “Fuck” falls from my lips just before she pumps again, tightening her fist, working her hand up and down on me. Our tongues tangle and then I feel myself about to break. I yank her hand away a bit roughly and she looks at me crestfallen, like I could possibly find fault with anything she’s doing right now. No.

  “Did I—”

  “I need to get a condom.”

  Lightning quick, she recovers from her worry. With a timid smile, she nods toward the side table. “I put some in a decorative bowl over there. I bought four different kinds.”

  She’s not kidding. She must have run down to the corner store and swept every condom off the shelf and into her basket. Then she thought to display them in a cute ceramic dish like she was serving up some peanuts.

  I almost laugh. “Just grab one.”

  She leans over to root through the bowl, and I’m a bastard for staring between her legs, at that black thong that’s not doing a damn thing to cover her up anymore. I reach my hand out and stroke her inner thigh, just below that sweet spot. She freezes and then goes slack, arching her back ever so gently to let me know she likes what I’m doing. She wants more and I oblige, teasing my hand higher, running my palm up and down her soft skin. Each time, I go a little farther, but never quite to where she needs. I know she’s in agony, but I’m in no hurry.

  The view of her perched on her hands and knees on her couch is something I’d like to burn into my memory. I could die right now and feel confident that I’ve seen all I need to see.

  To hell with the panties. I tug them down to her knees.

  “Hudson.”

  Her chiding tone is half-hearted. She wants this. I take her all in while she shimmies her hips impatiently. Just when I think she can’t take another second of being on display like that, I lean over and bury my face between her legs without warning. It’s the most tantalizing angle. I can taste all of her, feel all of her. She cries my name like I’m torturing her, and that’s before I slide my middle finger inside her.

  I feel like a bastard taking from her like this, demanding she arch even more, flare her hips, let me stroke her. I know she’s overly sensitive. I know she just came, but I also know how easy it’ll be to make her come again. Scarlett doesn’t stand a chance when I add another finger and start pumping in and out. There’s nothing sexier than the way she feels pressed up against my face. The taste of her on my lips. Her scent.

  I feel that second wave of pleasure crash over her and I’m relentless, cruel, on the verge of feeling dangerously out of control.

  “God.” She breathes the word out over a long, excruciating exhale, like she’s just been wrung out to dry.

  When she’s capable of speaking in full sentences again, she turns back to look at me over her shoulder. She’s flushed. Her eyes are wide and glassy. “Two? TWO? Jasper used to complain about how long it took for me to…”

  Something in my expression makes her sentence drift off.

  Jasper.

  “I hate him. Don’t bring him up again unless you want to hear his name on the six o’clock news.”

  She laughs, and it must be nice to be able to laugh at a time like this. I’m in physical PAIN over here. I’m one feather-light touch away from coming in my fucking pants like a fourteen-year-old in his mom’s basement.

  Scarlett’s at the condom bowl again. What’s she going to do with that thing after I’m gone? Put it on her nightstand?

  She picks one at random. It might not fit.

  “Hand it to me.”

  “I just about have it.”

  Burning up with impatience, I rip the condom wrapper out of her hands and have it out of the foil and rolled down onto my length in record time.

  She smiles, impressed.

  Then she glances down and swallows.

  “Right. Maybe I should lie down on the couch and we’ll take it slow…or…”

  I want to laugh again. She looks genuinely concerned.

  “Just come over here, will you?”

  She kicks off her panties and then climbs back on top of me. This time, she holds herself up on her knees. My hand goes to her waist and I hold her steady, lowering her gently as her eyes widen.

  “Relax,” I tell her with a half-laugh, half-groan.

  “I’m scared.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “Hudson, YOU WOULD BE OVERREACTING TOO if you were in my position.”

  Now I’m laughing, which is ridiculous because this is the most exquisite feeling of my life and I should be savoring it with every fiber of my being.

  “Slower,” she hisses, gripping my shoulders. Her nails dig into my skin.

  I almost want to pull her down onto me hard, just to end this beautiful misery. Maybe I would in another life, but in this life, Scarlett has me over a barrel. I’m so obsessed with her, so in awe, I press into her slow inch by slow inch. Anything she wants, I’ll give her.

  “So I’m doing well so far? Like if you were to grade me right now…”

  Her question falls on deaf ears as I finally work her down onto me most of the way and I go still, savoring every overwhelming sensation.

  “I’m passing at the very least, right?” she prods impatiently.

  “Scarlett,” I bite out in warning.

  I lift her up off me and thrust into her again, and her hands tighten on my shoulders so she doesn’t tip over. I do it again, easing her into a faster rhythm until she’s scratching her nails down my arms, bending down to find my mouth, kissing me with wild abandon.

  Her questions don’t matter anymore. There’s nothing but what my hands can feel, what my eyes can feast on. I can’t comprehend anything else beyond her. My hands hoist her up and down harder as I thrust a maddening pace. She transitions between kissing me and peeling back to watch what I’m doing to her, like she’s just as enamored by it as I am. We’re wrapped up around each other, as close as two people can get.

  I’m panting and trying to stave off the inevitable, skirting the edge of oblivion. When I come, I buck off the couch and press my fingers into her skin. I’m surely leaving marks. Black stars pop behind my closed lids.

  Afterward, I settle beneath her with the weight of the world. It was so good. So, so achingly good, but the post-sex high doesn’t last. Insidious guilt must have been waiting in the wings because already it starts to weave through me. Overtaking the vestiges of lust. Popping the happy-go-lucky bubble we’ve crafted for ourselves.

  I keep my eyes closed for so long she laughs and kisses my cheek. “Wake up.”

  “I’m not sleeping.”

  I don’t mean to sound so gruff, but I can’t help it.

  “What are you doing then?”

  “Processing.”

  “Did I break you?” She taps her finger against my chest, right over my heart, like she’s a comedian doing a mic check. “This thing still working?”

  I blink my eyes open to see she’s smiling down at me. Earnest. Sweet. Scarlett. I find I’m completely speechless.

  I’m scared, actually.

  I peel her off me and set her down on the couch like she’s a rare antique I should have never been handling in the first place. She’s so naked and so young and I immediately lean down and grab her black dress and tell her to put it on. I watch the excitement of the last few minutes slowly start to drain from her face as I stand and get dressed myself.

  “Hudson?”

  I can’t look at her. What can I even say?

  “Hey.” She stands and grabs my arm, forcing me to turn back and look at her. “Did we just ruin everything? Can we still be friends?”

  Her pained expression breaks my heart.

  “Sorry,” I say, hauling her toward me and tightening my hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  I can’t say it.

  My silence does my talking for me though, and Scarlett’s too smart not to pick up on the seismic shift that’s happened between us.

  She steps back forcefully. She’s already wearing an angry scowl.

  “I wanted that,” she says fiercely. “So don’t you dare ruin it with some apology now.”

  She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t feel what I’m feeling inside, like the world’s biggest pig, the worst user. I wanted her like I’ve never wanted anything, and I let that blind me.

  Now, that fog has cleared enough for me to feel sick to my stomach.

  “I’m sorry, Scarlett.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry!” she erupts, stepping away from me even more. The distance seems crucial. “God, just stop. Why are you doing this? We could have just laughed it off and ordered dinner. Watched stupid TV and then parted ways.” She points an accusatory finger at me. “I could have seen you on Monday and everything would have been fine. Why are you looking at me like that?! Like you’re scared I’m about to start crying.”

  I am scared she’s about to start crying. It’s like we’re inside an emotional vortex. Everything feels too raw.

  I knew this was wrong. I knew it on every level and I just couldn’t let common sense guide me. I wanted her too much, and now I can never go back and do the right thing. I can’t go back to before, when I hadn’t touched her.

  I’ve always joked that I’m a villain at heart, but I’ve never truly felt like one until right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Scarlett

  For once, Moira and I share the same mood. All day Sunday, my apartment is the perfect backdrop for my misery and heartache. I don’t bother drawing the curtains back or changing out of my pajamas. I order breakfast, then I order lunch, then I order dinner, all from the comfort of my cozy spot on the floor onto which I’ve piled every comfortable blanket and pillow I can find in my apartment. I’m unwilling to sit on my couch. If I didn’t stand a high chance of going up in flames alongside it, I’d have already set it on fire.

  If it’s not perfectly obvious, I’m angry with Hudson, and unfortunately, my anger with him is only eclipsed by my anger with myself. I knew on a molecular level that it was a very dumb idea to sleep with him. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I’d already developed real feelings for him despite him being my older boss. Oh, and look at the dumbass who still got hurt when things didn’t pan out exactly as I’d hoped they would! Feel bad for me! The girl who walked into the arms of a villain!

  Did I think he was going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story after sleeping with me on that couch!? It’s Hudson Rhodes! My brother warned me about him on day one, and I was too stupid to listen.

  I’m unwilling to think about or reimagine everything that happened before he left my apartment last night. My full attention is focused on the way I felt after that door closed behind him: like complete trash. The shower I took didn’t suffice. I also threw away the lingerie and dress I wore for him. Sent them both down the trash shoot with a satisfied slam of the metal door.

  Despite Hudson fleeing my apartment as fast as his feet could possibly carry him, I hoped, as silly as it sounds, that he would reach out to me on Sunday. Hey, Scarlett! Sorry about my weird-ass exit last night! Just realized my body was possessed by aliens for a little while, but everything is all good now! Want to meet for lunch?

  I would have also even accepted a simple “Hey.”

  I kept my phone by me all day, and the despair of realizing, at around 7:00 p.m. Sunday night, that I would not be getting a phone call or text or email from him made the situation sear through me as fresh and painful as ever.

  On Monday, I barely want to get out of bed, but I’ll be damned if I skip work and get fired because of him. I reach for whatever clothes my fingers touch first, pull my hair up into a ponytail, and apply as much makeup as I would on any other day in the hopes that I look semi-human despite getting horrible sleep the last two nights.

  My stomach is twisted into a tight knot a seasoned sailor would be mighty proud of as I take the elevator up to the 70th floor. I don’t want to see Hudson first thing. I’m not sure how I’ll react, what asinine thing will slip out of my mouth. I’ve got a “Screw you” locked and loaded.

  The hallway near my office is crowded—thankfully. I didn’t get in as early as I usually do, didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Hudson when there weren’t other people around. Just him and me and an empty hallway? Trouble.

  I set my things down in my office and then head into the break room for a coffee. I need it more than ever. There are a few first-year associates in there that pay me no mind, but I’m used to it by now. Usually, I don’t let them bother me, and today should be no different.

  I make Kendra a cup of coffee too. She was already at her desk when I went in, but she was on the phone so I didn’t get the chance to ask if she wanted anything. I decide to err on the side of caution.

  Back in our office, I set down her coffee and offer a short hello. I mean, I haven’t gotten too carried away in our fledgling friendship, but she doesn’t even respond or look up or acknowledge me in any way. Okay…

  I don’t know if it’s the fact that it’s only the second Monday into the new year or if maybe Kendra woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but over the course of the morning, it feels like all the progress we managed to make before the holidays has completely come undone.

  When I get back from lunch, I ask her if she had a good weekend, and she replies with a curt, “Fine.”

  Have I gone back in time? This is how it felt the first week we shared an office together. Why the extra cold shoulder now?

  I get my answer, later, in the restroom. I’m fixing my dress, about to open the stall door and head out to wash my hands when I hear someone talking.

  “I just think it’s weird how much time she spends with Hudson.”

  “You know they work out together. Dilan says he sees them in the gym all the time.”

  “Yeah, he told me. Did you see her following after him like a lost puppy at the holiday party?”

  “Oh my gosh, yes! She didn’t even try to hide it. It’s so obvious she’s sleeping with him! Or trying to more like—I doubt he’d go there. He doesn’t seem like the type to make that mistake.”

  “Not for someone like her! Are you kidding?”

  I feel sick listening to these women gossip about the two of us. Without seeing their faces, I can’t confirm, but I’m pretty sure it’s Makayla and Ramona, Kendra’s best friends. Kendra might have started to thaw out before the holidays, but her friends never came around at all. They still shoot me annoyed looks in the food court and during meetings. If I cross paths with them in the hall or if I happen to forget my place and accidentally speak in their presence, they make it very clear they want nothing to do with me. In return, I’ve given them a wide berth. Now, I’m extra glad I did because clearly, they super suck!

  First of all, I wasn’t following Hudson around at the holiday party like a lost puppy! He and I spent most of the night talking to Lucy, and then at one point, Hudson chatted with my mom, which was hilariously funny because she was pretty slack-jawed at how handsome he was and when he walked away, she said, “That man,” all exasperated and with a southern accent for some reason. I wasn’t even offended on behalf of my father because I KNOW, MOM. I KNOW.

  Beyond that, well yes, unfortunately the rest is true, more or less. I have spent a lot of time with Hudson and I have opened myself up to gossip and ridicule. While it’s not actually against company policy to date coworkers, it’s still not encouraged, especially considering Hudson is my superior. No matter how we’d gone about it, us being together was going to invite a lot of commentary, good and bad.

  Of course these women don’t actually know the truth. They don’t know we only slept together for the first time over the weekend. They’re being nasty and hateful based on nothing but speculation. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make me feel better. They’ve managed to hit their mark beautifully.

  Their assessment of how things look between Hudson and me only frays my emotions that much more. Even with everything going on between us, my initial worry isn’t about how complicated these allegations might make my work life; it’s about whether or not this will get back to Hudson. This might affect the promotion he’s so desperate for, and I’d never forgive myself for that. Hudson is the hardest working attorney at this office by a mile.

  So I fling my bathroom stall door open and walk directly toward Makayla and Ramona, who, by the time I reach them, have stopped talking and are just staring dumbly at me.

  “Excuse me.” I indicate the soap dispenser Makayla is blocking like, You mind?

  She opens and closes her mouth, guppy style, but she doesn’t apologize to me. Maybe she’s playing naive about the whole thing.

  Makayla looks to Ramona. Ramona looks to Makayla. Makayla laughs, and then they flee the bathroom about as fast as Hudson fled from my apartment.

  When they’re gone, I lean over the counter and try not to throw up from all the adrenaline. I can’t look up and meet my own eyes. It’ll zap the last bit of courage I’m working with at the moment, and we’re talking about a microscopic amount here. It could dissolve at any minute and then what? How will I possibly finish this work day?

  My eyes cut to my trembling hands gripping the side of the counter. I try to take a deep breath. It helps, so I do it again, slower this time. I concentrate on the sound of air leaving my lungs as my vision softens, then blurs.

  After I leave the bathroom, I go straight to my office. The second I walk through the door, I look at Kendra despite every instinct telling me not to. She rolls her eyes, answering every question I needed answered.

  I want to go right over and snatch the untouched coffee cup from her desk, but I withstand the urge, instead taking a seat behind my desk and willing myself not to cry. I end up having to YouTube a bunch of cute videos of dogs just to get through the initial ten minutes of panic. But can you imagine? Me breaking down in front of Kendra? I’d rather step on a nail.

  I see Hudson for the first time at the end of the work day. When I walk out of my office to head toward the elevators, he’s in the hall talking to Sophie. I see him, freeze for the quickest instant, and then breezily continue on, brushing past him without saying a word. Every hair on my body stands at attention, begging me to look back, but I resist like a champ.