Christina’s POV
His lips t mine with quiet determination, unhurried. Cold from the air but quickly warming against mine. I tasted the mint from his after-dinner tea.
His arm wrapped around my waist, fingers pressing through my coat, grounding .
The alleyway was narrow, dark brick on either side. The kitchen exhaust fan humd behind a tal door, but the street noise barely reached us here.
The snow continued to fall, gentle and steady, blurring everything around us. At the end of the alley, the amber streetlights made the lting slush glitter.
I kept my eyes open.
I wanted to rember everything—the slight tilt of his head as he deepened the kiss, the way he breathed through his nose, the light scratch of stubble on his jaw against my cheek when I leaned in.
His hand tightened, then relaxed, as if he didn’t want to rush. As if he didn’t want this to end.
I felt the cold seeping through my boots, but his chest was warm against mine.
As his arm moved, the umbrella tilted, allowing a few snowflakes to land on my cheeks.
He pulled back, looking at .
His breath ca out white and shaky.
We stayed that way for a mont, face to face, breathing the sa cold air, before he leaned in again and kissed harder. Like he’d made a decision.
***
He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping mine tightly.
Twice I told him to let go.
The snow was thick, the roads slick, and the last thing I needed was to slide off a bridge and be found by paradics still holding hands like we had a death wish.
Twice he didn’t answer. He just tightened his grip, eyes fixed on the road.
Eventually, I gave up.
His thumb traced slow circles over my knuckles, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
But I knew better.
Hudson wasn’t big on words, but I’d learned to read his body language—touch was his vocabulary.
So I let him hold on.
When we walked through the front door, the house was lit up. Hallway lights on, the warm lights under the cabinets glowing in the kitchen.
The air slled faintly of ginger and roasted at, but the usual sounds were absent—no Geoffrey clattering with tea.
We went upstairs.
At the top, he stopped outside my door.
I turned to face him, my heart beating ridiculously fast, everything around us so quiet.
His eyes t mine.
He waited.
I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him once more.
Then I stepped back, just enough to say, "Goodnight."
He nodded. "Goodnight, Chrissy."
I pretended not to notice the disappointnt in his eyes.
I watched him walk to his room.
My hand hovered over the doorknob.
I wanted to invite him in.
Every inch of my skin craved it. Craved his hands, his mouth, the warmth of him.
But I didn’t.
I went inside, closed the door, and leaned against it.
I wouldn’t make the sa mistake I’d made with Niall. Not with Hudson. Especially not when this relationship had a chance to be real.
Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Standing in the shower, rinsing conditioner from my hair, I wondered if he was thinking about that alley, that kiss.
If he was lying in bed like I was, arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling, replaying everything that just happened, over and over again.
Next morning, I’d barely stepped out of my room, hair still damp from the shower, when I saw Hudson standing there. His fist was raised, about to knock.
He looked good. Really good. Dark jeans that fit perfectly, a navy button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and that faint trace of mint scent.
"Good mor—"
That was all I managed before he moved. One second I was standing in my doorway, the next my back hit the hallway wall with a soft thud. His mouth crashed onto mine with an urgency that stole my breath.
His body pressed against mine, hard muscle and solid heat. One hand cupped my face while the other wrapped around my waist, holding tight, like he feared I might vanish if he let go.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. There was nothing tentative about the way his tongue swept into my mouth or how his teeth grazed my lower lip. This wasn’t the careful man from last night.
The hallway seed to vanish. All that existed was Hudson’s mouth on mine, the solid wall at my back, and the growing heat between us. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, gripping tighter.
Then I felt it—the hard ridge of him pressing against my stomach. My face flushed hot despite the cool air. We’d done this before, that one night months ago. It had been incredible, unforgettable. But since then, I’d carefully maintained the boundaries of our contract marriage.
Last night I’d agreed to try for sothing real, but this was fast. Very fast. And as much as my body was screaming yes, my brain was hitting the brakes.
I placed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart hamring beneath my fingers, and gently pushed. He imdiately stepped back, though his eyes remained dark with want.
"That was..." I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath. "Quite a wake-up call."
A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. "I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I woke up."
"I can tell," I said, my eyes briefly dropping to his jeans before eting his gaze again.
"It wasn’t nearly long enough," he answered, his voice rough.
After breakfast, I tried to slip out quietly. I had work to do, designs to finish, and if that morning greeting was any indication, staying ho ant I wouldn’t get a single thing done.
"I should get to the studio," I said, grabbing my bag.
Hudson blocked my path at the door, pressing against it much like he had in the hallway. His mouth found mine again, and whatever resolve I’d built crumbled instantly.
Ten minutes later, I finally managed to pull away, my lips feeling swollen and my knees embarrassingly weak.
"I really need to go," I whispered against his mouth.
He nodded, stepped back, and straightened his shirt. "Have dinner with tonight."
It wasn’t a question, but his eyes held a hint of uncertainty that made my heart flutter.
"Yes," I answered simply.
The smile he gave was worth everything.
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