Christina’s POV
Hudson’s eyes locked on mine, burning with desire as his arms tightened around . His hips suddenly stilled against my wet center, though I could still feel his hardness pressing against .
His jaw clenched tight, every muscle in his body going rigid.
I could feel him fighting for control.
His fingers dug into my waist, not painful but desperate, like he was anchoring himself.
"Hudson," I whispered, shifting my hips slightly.
He groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don’t."
I wanted to protest. My body was on fire, aching for him to continue what he’d started. Instead of pulling away, he pulled closer, his erection pressing harder against through our clothes, teasing rcilessly.
"You’re killing ," I muttered.
"The feeling is mutual," he replied, voice strained.
His thighs tensed beneath .I could practically hear his self-control cracking. Then sothing in him shifted.
He took a deep breath and loosened his grip slightly.
"Fuck," he swore softly.
Hudson stood abruptly, lifting with him.
My arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to break contact.
He kissed again, harder this ti, almost desperate.
"Don’t look at like that," he muttered against my lips. "Or I’ll..."
I barely registered his words.His taste was intoxicating,his heat consuming completely.
Without warning, he lifted into his arms and carried toward the stairs.
My head spun as he took the steps two at a ti. One mont I was in his arms, the next I was on my back against the cool sheets of my bed.
Then ca the sound I least expected,the door clicking shut.
He was gone.
I lay there, stunned.
My body felt like liquid fire, every nerve ending still sparking from his touch. My skin tingled, my pulse racing wildly.
"Seriously?" I whispered to the empty room.
Relief or disappointnt? I honestly couldn’t tell which emotion was stronger.
Part of was glad he’d stopped.If he hadn’t, I would’ve begged him to take , consequences be damned.
But the other part of ,the part currently throbbing with unfulfilled desire,was furious.Who walks away from a woman practically offering herself on a silver platter?
Akira stirred within , amused. "Perhaps he respects you too much."
"Or maybe he’s not that into ," I shot back ntally.
"His body says otherwise," she replied smugly. "His reaction was pure arousal."
What was stopping him?I’d made my interest crystal clear. My flushed skin and racing heart weren’t exactly subtle hints.
Was he hung up on soone else?Saving himself for so perfect ex he still worshipped from afar?
Like Niall had done with Beatrice while we were mated?
Great. Just perfect. What were the odds I’d fall for two n in Highrise City who could keep it zipped when temptation was literally writhing in their laps?
I sat up, adjusting my rumpled shirt. I glanced down at my chest.
"Still hot," I told my boobs reassuringly. "His loss."
So why the hell was Hudson acting like a monk at a strip club?
***
The next day was the big event, Edouard Laurent’s 80th birthday celebration.
I had zero interest in looking desperate, so I chose a simple white dress. Clean lines, understated elegance. I wore my hair down, loose and natural. No jewelry whatsoever, not even the tiniest earrings.
When I descended the stairs, Hudson stood waiting in the living room. His eyes locked onto instantly, tracking my every movent. This wasn’t a casual glance. This was the kind of look that stripped away layers, that visualized every inch beneath my dress.
The fire in his gaze and the flex of his jaw weren’t subtle. He definitely wasn’t thinking about polite dinner conversation. The rigid set of his shoulders and the slight twitch of his fingers betrayed him completely.
Heat surged through imdiately. Part of wanted to gloat: see what you walked away from last night? I almost did a little spin just to drive the point ho, but the stairs were steep, and faceplanting wasn’t on my agenda.
Another part wanted answers. If you can ntally undress with that intensity, why didn’t you follow through last night? What the hell is holding you back?
But now wasn’t the ti for that conversation.
When I reached the bottom, I gave him a teasing smile. "Well? What do you think?"
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes continued their slow exploration, taking in every detail.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Beautiful."
I reached for his hand, which he took without hesitation, pulling toward the door. When we reached the car, he held on a mont longer before reluctantly letting go.
***
The Sabreridge pack house parking lot was jamd with vehicles of every luxury brand imaginable. Old vintage classics mingled with the latest models, all gleaming under the lights. Clearly, an 80th birthday milestone warranted pulling out all the stops.
As I stepped from the car, I took in the scene. The place was alive with energy. Family mbers, friends, and relatives dragged from every corner of the country had gathered to celebrate.
Hudson’s family tree wasn’t so much a tree as a sprawling forest. Edouard Laurent had several siblings, each with their own battalion of children and grandchildren. Hudson’s father, Reginald, was Edouard’s youngest son, with three sons of his own, Hudson being the eldest. Add a collection of distant relatives, and you had a gathering that could rival any high school reunion.
Hudson slipped his arm around my waist, and we walked in perfect sync toward the house. Any nervousness I’d felt earlier had evaporated.
I noticed the butler at the door do a double take when he saw us. He blinked rapidly, as if his brain needed ti to process what he was seeing. Even the staff couldn’t hide their surprise.
Hudson had tid our entrance perfectly.
The living room was already packed with people laughing, catching up, or trapped in that awkward family small talk reserved for holidays and funerals.
But the mont we stepped through the doorway, silence fell like a heavy curtain.
As if soone had hit a universal mute button.
Every head turned in our direction.
Even those pretending not to notice got jabbed by whoever stood beside them.
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