Page 19 of Say You Love Me

NOW

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FINITY

Hudson is sitting on the couch when I walk back inside after collecting the washing. It was only an excuse to go outside and have a cigarette, but he doesn’t question me about gathering the washing at midnight. And instead of staring at the television and avoiding my gaze, he’s looking straight at me. And there’s heat in his glare. Dark heat. Lustful heat.

Pushing down the nervous flutters that his gaze creates, I walk across to the line stretched above the fire. Even though the temperature is starting to get warmer, we still have to occasionally hang the clothing inside, allowing it those last few hours to dry.

I start to hang the washing, aware of Hudson’s gaze on me. Every movement now seems awkward and obvious, even though all I’m doing is hanging out the washing.

After minutes of my heart thudding in the back of my throat, I swallow and open my mouth to speak. “Did you have a good night?”

As soon as I turn around, he drops his gaze, but then his eyes flick up. Just a glance. A glimpse. A reassurance that I am still the woman he despises.

“Yes.” He says it like punctuation at the end of a sentence. The end. No more. We are finished.

I turn my back and hang one of his work shirts above the fireplace. Hudson clears his throat and I know his eyes are on me again. Every action feels amplified under his gaze.

I bend down to retrieve the next item, keeping my backside high, feeling the hem of my dress creeping up my thighs. I stand slowly. My heart beats rapidly with the knowledge that his eyes are on me. His gaze is as heavy on my skin as fingers.

“Get naked.” His voice is raw. Deep.

I freeze, then turn to look at him.

“Get naked.” His lip is caught between his teeth. His eyes are plastered to my body. When he swallows, his Adam’s apple bounces. “Hang the clothes naked.” He straightens his posture on the couch, drawing his shoulders back, enlarging his chest.

My heartbeat sounds loudly in my head. Blood pulses, flaming my skin. With trembling fingers I fumble with the zipper of my dress. Hudson’s eyes follow my hands, his tongue working over his lips, his body tight and taut. The zipper exposes my skin and his eyes flash darkly as I push it over my shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

I’m standing in only my underwear and heels.

Hudson’s eyes flick to my face again. “Naked,” he repeats.

Shoes. Bra. Underpants. Gone. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. The couch groans as Hudson sits back, pressing into the cushions. “Hang up the clothes.”

I’m exposed to his gaze and it rakes over my body. I ache for him to touch me, but he just sits there. I’m grateful he’s looking though. It gives me hope that we could be what we were before. That he could look at me with something other than hatred in his eyes.

Reaching down, I pluck another of his shirts from the basket. The damp material brushes over the bare skin of my nipples and they harden. With Hudson’s eyes on me, every whisper of air, every caress of fabric, every heated gaze sets my skin ablaze.

The couch groans again and Hudson lifts his hips, pulling his pants down. With his lip caught between his teeth, he frees himself. Hard. Strong. Ready.

A wave of lust clenches inside. I want him. No. I need him. He is the only one who can make me whole again. The only one that can forgive.

I hang out his shirts one by one. Blue on the left. White on the right. I button the collars as he likes. And all the time his eyes are on me and his hand is wrapped around his cock. And all the time my heart races, my skin tingles, and moisture pools between my thighs.

Once the basket is empty, I lift it to my hips, walking the short distance to the laundry and bending low to store it. Then I walk back and stand before him, unsure what to do. I want to touch him but I don’t dare. It has been weeks since he undid the buttons of my dress and exposed my breasts. Months since he has touched me. My skin feels withered with neglect. I throb with need.

Hudson stops stroking himself when my gaze falls on him, but he does not let go. He shifts, adjusts himself, then nods to the coffee table between us. “Lift one leg. Expose yourself.”

He will see me. See how wet I am. How desperate.

He moves forward, closer, demanding failure of my hesitation. “You wanted to know what I want. This is what I want.”

I lift a foot and place it on the table, widening the stance of my hips. Hudson’s breath sharpens. His eyes darken. His hand moves again and I inhale his desire, drinking in his need as his gaze stays fixed between my thighs. He sits forward, shuffling his hips toward the edge of the seat, hand wrapped tightly around his cock, his mouth close enough that I can feel the breath of him dancing over my flesh.

Dropping to his knees, his hand moves furiously and small groans of pleasure escape his lips. I long to touch myself. But I long even more to touch him.

Slowly his eyes move up my body to meet mine. “On your knees.”

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