The Art of You

Beyond offering a stellar pep talk, Callie ran a wicked game of interference. As I got dressed, she left my room and told Malik she twisted her ankle and needed help walking back to the pool house. It was the perfect opportunity to escape my shadow and head to Hudson’s bedroom.

Callie’s beautiful words replayed in my head, serving as the ammunition I needed to propel me down the back stairs and to the other end of the house, where Constantine had strategically placed Hudson’s room.

With my heart in my throat, I stopped outside his door, surprised to find it cracked open. I took that as an invitation to intrude before I lost my edge and remembered why we were at the house in the first place.

Hudson was sitting on the bed, seemingly in a daze. Shirtless and in sweatpants, barefoot and hunched over, his tee dangled from one hand. His strong back muscles were flexed, and with the bandage from his arm lying on the comforter next to him, the marks the accident left on his skin were starkly visible. I shuddered inwardly at the evidence of what he’d been through. His wounds were worse than mine.

He slowly lifted his head, locating me. He was an elite operator, so I knew he’d sensed me coming before I’d even opened the door.

“You okay?” I asked while closing and locking up behind me.

“Isabella.” I ignored his use of my name as a reprimand, opting to stay bold in my determination to communicate with him.

We had to start somewhere, and I didn’t want his statement to Constantine this morning to be the end of things between us before they ever had a chance to begin.

“There aren’t cameras in the bedrooms.” My reminder only had him standing.

“And that means what exactly?” He tossed his shirt on the bed, then planted his hands on his hips while scowling.

My eyes skated to the visible waistline of his briefs that had the Lululemon logo on them.

“I’d meant that gift as a joke, you know. I honestly didn’t think you’d wear them.”

“Can’t waste a perfectly good pair of underwear, now can I?” He followed my line of sight to the view I was very much enjoying. “Better question is, did you tell your brothers you bought me these briefs for my birthday to get a rise out of me?”

This man was a masterclass in rolling with it and giving it back to me as good as I gave it to him. God help me, I was in trouble. And it was the only kind of trouble I wanted to be in.

Unable to stop gaping at him, I mumbled, “Mmm. Nope.” I never expected to see him in the briefs, even if it was a partial view. I’d bought them one night after two martinis, and it took a half a bottle of wine to actually gift them. My nerves weren’t always made of steel.

And on that note, internet trolls be damned. They were officially banished from my head, right along with that bullshit story Kit wrote. I’d deal with that woman later. Well, soon-ish. Someone had to go after her for her egregious words about my sister, as well as her lies in regard to Hudson’s service time.

But right now, hello distraction in the form of gray sweatpants, perfect abdominal muscles, and the delicious V-line disappearing into his briefs.

My hand had a mind of its own, and my finger ran along the seam of my mouth. “Are you okay?” I asked again when realizing he’d avoided answering me the first time.

“I’ll answer that if you stop staring at me like you’re starving.” His tone alone had me almost going feral. I was borderline there before, and his words, so deep and masculine, hit every pleasure sensor in my brain and body.

And God help me, some men really did age like fine wine. Hudson was proof of that. He’d become even sexier over the years. Considering he’d already started out hot as fuck in his twenties, it was no wonder I had trouble maintaining my self-control ever since he’d crossed over to the forties.

He had a hard-as-granite body, jawline sculpted from concrete, and eyes that could burn a hole through my panties with the intensity of his stare. And yet, it was his intelligence, big heart, the way he made me laugh, not to mention how he dealt with my attitude in his own special way, that had me falling all over myself far more than just his physical appearance.

“So help me, Bella. You have to stop looking at me like that.”

Boom goes the dynamite. I was acting no different than a character from an American Pie film. Jeez.

Attempting to act my age, I met his eyes and said, “I came to check you out.”

“Obviously,” he bit out.

Shit. Thanks, Freud. “Are my cheeks as red as I feel?”

“You feel color?” His mouth stole my attention, it was quite the showstopper.

“Hot, I mean.” I slowly walked over to him, and he couldn’t hide the appreciation in his eyes as he studied me from head to toe with each step I took.

I’d been so laser-focused on his body, it was possible this wasn’t his first time taking in my tiny pink shorts and loose, off-the-shoulder Metallica tee, sans bra. Callie had opted for fun and sexy without running the risk of giving him a heart attack by wearing a negligee for any of our security team to see.

“I’m not sure how many different ways I can say your name right now to get you to understand me, but I’m going to try again.”

I could hear Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” playing in my head the moment our gazes connected. The hard, intense beats. The banging drums. The vibrations from the music thrummed between us as he locked his arms at his sides.

“Izzy.” That name was enough to snap my spine fully straight. He narrowed his eyes like a challenge while slamming his lips into a tight line.

I hadn’t heard him call me Izzy in years. In the past, he usually just said my full name, but a time or two he’d call me by what everyone else did. Then, one day, I suddenly became Bella. I never asked why, worried if I pointed it out, he’d stop. I loved how it sounded far too much for him to do that.

“Alessandro said he tasked Malik with watching you. Where is he?” He lifted a brow, eyes going to my shoulder, keying in on the same purple mark I spied on his body. Evidence of our seat belts saving our lives.

We’d shared that horrible moment together, and maybe it was time we share some good ones, too. No time like the present. Why not ignore the heaping pile of dog shit in the form of bad media online, a potential stalker, and a mysterious murderer, surrounding us?

“Malik’s walking Callie to the pool house so I could come here and see you.”

He grimaced as he focused on the purple by my eye and at my temple. Maybe I should’ve put some concealer over the bruise before coming. It hurt him to see my injuries just as much as it pained me to see the ones on his skin.

The moment his attention went to my shirt and his nostrils flared, I lost all thoughts about the accident. I clocked the exact moment he zeroed in on the fact my breasts weren’t hidden by the world’s most uncomfortable invention, high heels coming in at a close second. “So, he didn’t see you like this? Did anyone else?”

“On the hall cams, I suppose.” I shrugged, forgetting I was a shitty bluffer around people I cared about. “Does it matter? I’m in shorts and a tee in my own house.”

His hard body engulfed all of the space between us in one quick stride. We were so close, he had to lower his chin to find my eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? Alessandro is down the hall, and Enzo and Constantine will be here any second.” His chest rose on a deep inhalation, and when he released it, his bare skin touched my body. “Are you looking for a distraction like I was this morning?”

He was giving me a way out with that question, one I didn’t want to take.

“I’m assuming your brother filled you in?”

I nodded, unable to speak as his hand lazily skimmed my outer thigh, just skirting the line of my ass cheek. Was he even aware he was doing it?

“The mood I’m in . . . this is a bad time.” His warning would’ve been more effective if he stepped back or stopped heating my skin with his touch. “Dangerous, even.”

“Dangerous to what?” A shaky exhale followed as his hand skipped over my ass and skimmed up my back, finally stopping on my one bare shoulder.

“To my control.” And just like that, he’d dropped the words. Set them there between us for the taking. And I was about to run with them, all the way home, but then he sent me a curveball instead. “You have something you need to ask me, I suppose.”

He was trying so hard to use his words as a wedge between us, but I didn’t budge. Not today, sailor. Not this time. “I know you didn’t sleep with Bianca.” But Kit deserved my mother’s famous soap in her mouth to wash the filth from it for writing such a thing about my sister.

“You never thought that?” His hand on my shoulder went to the back of my head, and he tangled his hand in my messy hair, never losing hold of my eyes. Nostrils flaring. Jaw clenched, bladed and sharp.

The man was wound tight. The beach stroll did nothing for him. Maybe I’d been wrong, and this wasn’t the perfect no time like the present moment for us. But here I was, stuck between a rock and a hard body.

“Not for a second,” I admitted. “Never crossed my mind.” There was another beautiful Italian I was curious about, though. “Maybe Adelina? I’ll admit, Friday night in the car, I wondered.”

“And do you wonder about that now?” His hand traveled to the nape of my neck before landing once again on my shoulder. He swept his thumb in small circles there.

“Yes,” I confessed. “I can’t imagine you working side by side with a woman that stunning and never . . .”

“I haven’t made a move on you, and we’re colleagues, have I? You’re smart and witty. Downright hilarious.” I’d take those compliments every day of the week. “And . . . beautiful,” he surrendered. “And I have to be around you seven days a week. Look at you all the fucking time.” He’d pretty much snarled his words, such a sharp contrast to how he’d first spoken.

He abruptly removed his hand from my shoulder as if realizing what he’d said and was only now paying attention to where he was touching me. How he was touching me. His hand on my heated skin had branded me. I was his now. The way I wanted to be.

“That wasn’t an answer,” I protested. “It was deflection.”

“Guess my old man taught me well.” He mumbled something incoherent under his breath before relenting, “No. The answer is no.”

Because I was a masochist sometimes, I asked, “Is she single? Maybe there’s still hope.” My lack of filter was both a blessing and a curse. In this moment, it was definitely my enemy. Those words materialized from that ugly pit of hell known as jealousy. The idea of him being with her or anyone made me, well, crazy. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the time. I—I shouldn’t have said that.”

An expletive dropped from his mouth as I went to turn away, only for him to stop me, encircling my good wrist, drawing me around to face him. “No, Bella, I don’t want her. Isn’t it obvious who I want?”

I swallowed, shock managing to do the unimaginable—keep my mouth shut.

“But if this weekend has reminded me of anything, it’s that life isn’t fair, and you can’t always have what you want.” He let go of me.

I wasn’t ready to call it quits and stamp out hope. Not when this was the closest he’d come to admitting his feelings.

“Why can’t you?” I whispered. “Am I not worth the risk? To see if there might be something more between us? My brothers will⁠—”

“Constantine is right about me. What he said to you is why I can’t take the risk, because I have too much respect for you. It’s not about him.” He drew the back of his hand along the contour of my cheekbone while closing his eyes. “I know myself, and I know my limits. I would hurt you. At the end of the day, I know it’d happen. Because that’s what I’m good at.” Emotion butchered his words right along with my heart. “I’m too fucked in the head, and I won’t take a chance with your happiness just because I’m desperate for one night.” His eyes flicked open as he left me with that cliffhanger.

“To be yours for one night would be worth the risk. I’d accept the consequences of what that’d mean and what might come next.”

He dragged his knuckles along my jawline, staring at his own hand as it moved as if in a daze.

“I don’t mean here and now, given what’s going on, but promise me one day you’ll consider giving us a chance, even if it’s for one night.”

He stopped grazing his hand over my skin and met my eyes. “I’ll never make you a one-night stand.”

His matter-of-fact words felt like rejection, and I was too stubborn to roll over and give up. “Then let it be two. Or we could be naughty and give each other a whole weekend.”

“Your poker face isn’t holding up, darlin’. You couldn’t handle being with me, then walking away as if it never happened.”

If he called me darlin’ one more time, I’d lose my last vestiges of control and demand that night right now. “How do you know?”

He brought his nose to mine, hand in my hair again, gently fisting it. “Because I couldn’t.”

I wet my lips, searching for the breath in my lungs he kept stealing. I wasn’t ready to cave and walk away from a conversation I felt had barely begun. But I also knew we were pressed for time. Fighting for what I wanted, and getting him to see beyond his stubborn ideas, would have to wait for another day. I’d have to one-step-at-a-time my way through this, starting with a touch of hope to get us moving forward.

“Airport rules, then,” I sputtered, the idea seemingly silly, but maybe it was a creative loophole to our problem.

He freed my hair and dragged his knuckles along my exposed collarbone. This was the most action I’d ever experienced from this man, and I wasn’t ready to back away. “Why, you feel like drinking?”

“No, I mean . . . what happens there is like being out in the wild, right? What if we take a moment to let whatever happens happen?” At his brows slamming together with concern, I quickly explained, “Not sex. Just sixty seconds of indulging without judgment. In this case, from ourselves.” I shrugged. “We can even set a timer.”

His hand wandered along the side of my neck.

“Since you enjoy having your hands on me so much, what if we steal one minute together? We’ve had a horrible weekend, and things seem to be getting worse, not better. I could use sixty seconds of bliss, even if it’s an artificial construct. Don’t make me walk away from you feeling”—I pouted—“so unsatisfied.”

He eased back to find my eyes, a hint of amusement glinting in those beautiful blues. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He dipped closer, and I shuddered when he tenderly pressed his lips to the bruise at my temple before bringing his mouth to my ear. “But there’d be nothing artificial about what happened between us, sixty seconds or not.”

His rich, deep tone had carried his words with such power and authority, I could’ve come on command if he ordered.

The subsequent sigh that followed, echoed that of a man repenting his sins in one hasty breath. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no, though.”

No, no, no. Dammit.

He rolled his bottom lip inward for a brief moment. Mouth back to my ear, he confessed, “Our kiss in Rome was only a few seconds, and it’s been haunting me for months.” His breath at my ear gave me chills as he added huskily, “But one minute with you, and I’ll carry that with me for a lifetime.”