Page 21 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

“Naomi,” I murmured against her skin, my lips trailing down her neck.

She tilted her head back, her breath hitching as her hands slid under my shirt, her fingers tracing the lines of my muscles. “I’ve wanted this,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “But I was scared.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” I said, my voice low and fierce. “Not with me.”

Her eyes met mine, and something shifted. She let go of the walls she’d been holding onto, and in that moment, she was completely open, completely mine.

I kissed her again, my hands exploring her curves with reverence, like I was memorizing every inch of her. She leanedinto me, her body responding to my touch in ways that made it impossible to think about anything else.

Time blurred as we lost ourselves in each other, the tension between us giving way to something deeper, something that went beyond words. It was more than just desire—it was connection, trust, and the kind of intimacy that stripped away every defense.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless and flushed, she rested her forehead against mine, her hands still tangled in my shirt.

“Hudson,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

“I’ve got you,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “Always.”

The weight of the moment settled over us, and for the first time in a long time, the fear and uncertainty seemed to fade, replaced by something stronger.

But even as I held her, a part of me couldn’t shake the nagging thought that time was running out. The danger was still there, lurking in the shadows, and I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

No matter what it cost me.

I pulled her closer, my voice low and fierce as I whispered, “No one’s taking you away from me. Not now. Not ever.”

Chapter Seventeen

Naomi

The warmth of Hudson’s arms around me lingered long after we got up the next morning. The memory of his whispered promise—No one’s taking you away from me. Not now. Not ever—played on a loop in my mind. It was equal parts comforting and terrifying, a reminder of just how high the stakes had become.

But today felt different. For the first time, I didn’t feel like a bystander in my own life. Hudson’s devotion had sparked something in me, a determination to face the threat head-on. I wasn’t going to let fear define me anymore. I wanted to fight. Ineededto fight.

Hudson wasn’t thrilled when I told him.

“You don’t need to do this,” he said, pacing the length of the living room, his brow furrowed in frustration. “You’re safe here. Let me handle the rest.”

“Hudson,” I said, standing from the couch. “I can’t just sit here waiting for the next threat to show up. I have to be part of this. It’s my life on the line, too.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “And what happens if you get hurt? Or worse?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You’re putting yourself at risk every time you step outside that door. Don’t you think I worry about you, too?”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “This isn’t the same.”

“Yes, it is,” I said firmly. “We’re in this together, Hudson. You said it yourself. So let me help.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression torn. Finally, he nodded, though his reluctance was clear. “Alright. But we do this my way. No exceptions.”

“Deal,” I said, relief flooding through me.

Later that day,we met with Hudson’s contact, a former member of The Fold named Marco. The meeting took place in a run-down bar on the outskirts of town, the kind of place where people went to be forgotten. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke, and the low hum of conversation created a constant background noise.

Marco was waiting for us at a corner booth, his wiry frame and sharp features giving him the look of someone who’d seen too much. His eyes flicked to me as we approached, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t expect you to bring company,” he said, his voice rough.

“She’s with me,” Hudson said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

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