The Art of You

“I know I locked that door.” Hudson stood in the doorway of his bathroom, strong hands parked above the navy-blue towel where it hung dangerously low on his hips.

Hudson in that towel with sexy, mussed-up wet hair and beads of water rolling down to his happy trail was the prime example of how one’s brain could truly short-circuit. And it took me a second to regroup, to remember why I’d picked the lock to his bedroom in the first place.

In my defense, I hadn’t expected to break into his room and find him so sans-clothes-like. I guess he’d opted to take a quick shower in hopes it’d wake him up from what had to feel like a living and breathing nightmare. It did to me, at least.

He’d left us on the deck after declaring he’d be meeting Alfie alone, tossing out the order, “I’m going to pack. Don’t follow me, or try to stop me.”

I was pretty sure that command was mainly for me, and Constantine had told me to let him cool off yet again, but I’d given up on waiting. And taking orders. I’d been too overheated to sit around and wait. The only way for me to rein in my temperature was to talk to Hudson myself. After a bit more pushing, Constantine relented.

“Plan on talking? Or are you here to slow me down from what I plan to do whether you like it or not?” His jaw ticced so hard I’d swear it had a heartbeat.

His grumpy tone reeled me back to the problem—him trying to leave us to lone-wolf a meeting that could very well be a trap. “I plan on talking you out of going. At least, going alone.”

I glanced at the bed off to my left. No clothes in sight. Just weapons he must’ve retrieved from our small armory here. Was he planning to go to war? What the hell?

When he didn’t speak, I did it for him. “Did Alfie say where you’re meeting? What time? You think this has to do with what your father told you about the kidnappers? The terrorists? Did he demand you come by yourself or are you just going solo to try and protect us?”

Nada. Zilch. Zero.

His jaw tightened as his only response.

So, I continued. “Please, enlighten me on all the red flags you’re going to try and turn green. I’m listening.”

Arms folded across his chest now, he leaned into the doorway and casually crossed his ankle over the other. He was buying himself time. Stalling from the inevitable—a fight between us. And yeah, I’d fight like hell to prevent him from marching off to his death. He wanted war? He could have one with me right now.

“With Alfie officially involved, this whole thing is really starting to point to me as the problem. My father may have been right, which means it’s my responsibility to clean up the mess.” There was less grit to his tone than I’d expected, more so somberness.

“We’re in this together. All of us. And like hell is your dad right.” I crossed the room and stood directly before him, but his gaze remained pointed down, now at my black-painted toenails.

“It’s possible there’s another explanation as to why Alfie was out there that night of the accident. I need to find out.” Ever so slowly, he gave in and looked at me. “But if he’s in any way responsible for you nearly dying . . .”

Then what? Nope, he couldn’t finish that, and I knew why. “You won’t hurt him,” I whispered, emotion choking me up. “Alfie was your brother. A Teamguy. You won’t be able to pull the trigger if you have to, and you know it. Not even if he’s trying to draw you out and kill you.”

He didn’t answer, and he couldn’t. Because I was right.

“How do you know it’s really him who texted? Someone could’ve hacked his phone. Or used a burner. What if this is Clarke’s doing? Or that Seth Maverick guy?”

“Alfie didn’t text from his personal line. It was an encrypted message from an unknown number, but he referred to himself as something that’d let me know it’s really him. Triple A. Only those on our team called him that. No one else would know. And before you ask, no, that name wouldn’t have been in the after-action report Maverick or Clarke read.”

Unable to stop myself, I reached for his face. His jawline flexed beneath my touch as he went for my wrist, removing my hand, but keeping hold of me. “Maybe we didn’t die Friday night because Alfie couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger like he was supposed to.”

His thumb swept along the inside of my wrist as he kept hold of my arm between us.

“You don’t really believe he was working with the kidnappers or the terrorists, do you?” I could see the doubt in his eyes as clear as freaking day.

“I don’t want to, but fuck. It sure as hell looks like he’s guilty of something.”

He freed my wrist and sidestepped me, forcing me to turn toward him. To study his strong back as he walked to the bed. The corded muscles in his bruised arm tightened as he brought his hands to his hips.

“Alfie could have easily hacked the CCTV footage at the party, too. And it’s probably him screwing with me on social media, posting the video of us dancing online.”

Shit, that was a lot to take in. But then I remembered something Adelina had said yesterday. “If all signs point in one direction, it’s because we’re looking the wrong way.”

“Or, maybe, if it looks like a duck, it’s just a duck.” He swung around to face me, nostrils flaring. “Or in this case, a frogman.”

“Then why now? Why, after so long, is he doing this now? Answer that for me, and I’ll let you leave this room and won’t try to stop you.”

“Sleeping giant. Someone woke it up,” was all he gave me, and I was done with that analogy, especially since it’d been started by his father.

“Well, screw it. We’ll be Jack and climb the beanstalk and take out the giant, then. How about that?” I pushed back, losing my cool anytime I thought about the governor.

Hudson rotated his neck side to side, eyes shooting to the ceiling as if searching for words he’d never find there.

When he remained quiet, I went to the bedroom door and set my back to it, becoming a human barrier to his escape. “I’m right about you not leaving . . .”

“Those dots I can feel hanging in the air, are they for extra emphasis? As in you being a pain in my ass?”

Three long strides brought him over to stand before me. I held up my hand between us as if I could pulverize steel with my touch, knowing it really was the other way around. The dark, hooded look from him could obliterate every one of my defenses if I let him. “I’m going to save you time here.”

“Oh, yeah? By helping me pack or by moving out of my way?” His left hand went to the door over my shoulder, and he leaned in like a challenge. “You know I can lift you, don’t you? A sore arm won’t stop me.”

I was very much aware this man could set me aside like a fragile doll inside a glass case. I also knew he would never treat me like some empty-minded porcelain doll, because he always treated me like his equal.

“I’m going with you. We all are. Wherever you go, we’ll have your back.” I finally unleashed the speech I’d struggled to scrape together beneath his heated stare. “End of story. Not up for discussion.”

“I disagree.” His words slid across my skin, his rejection caressing my lips like silk. “You may have me wrapped around your finger, but we both know when it comes to two things, I have the control.”

There it was again. That dark look in his eyes coupled with the rich depth to his tone that had me inhaling and wanting to whisper, Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir.

I was aware of the fact he was trying to distract me from my mission, knowing exactly how to twist me into a pretzel and make me forget the sky was blue and that I hated being told what to do. He was successful, too. The sky was now painted a seductive crimson, and I was ready to fall to my knees and obey the sailor’s orders.

“What are those two things?” My voice betrayed me, the stuttery hitch letting him know exactly who was in charge. And it wasn’t me.

He stood tall, backed two steps away and held two fingers out, folding back the others. Staring deep into my eyes, he slowly gestured for me to come to him in the sexiest way I’d ever witnessed anyone do in my life.

I followed his command, and a slow smirk crossed his lips before he spun me around, placing himself in front of the door instead of me. And just like that, he’d removed the obstacle in his way of leaving.

His hand flew around my body, and he hauled me against him, my hands landing on his chest. “I’ll be in control of your safety, for one, which means you won’t be coming with me.” With his other hand he brushed my hair behind my ear, only to drop his mouth over it and let his breath fan across my heated skin.

“And the second?” I waited for him to continue, knowing his distraction efforts were masterfully done and I was running on autopilot.

“Who makes you come from now on is most definitely the second. And in case I’m not being clear . . .”

That cliffhanger was delivered brilliantly. The man was a quick study. Forget shivers rolling only down my spine, they encompassed every square inch of my body. “Only you?” Was that his way of letting me know without directly saying it that he wanted us to move forward?

Instead of his hand, which I’d have preferred, fear clutched the front of my throat. This was his version of an In case something happens to me speech before riding off to battle. No, no, no. There would be no leaving me. No operating solo.

“You’re good. You—you had me there,” I sputtered, then pushed away from his chest to try and break the spell he’d put me under. “But, no.”

One brow lifted in question. “No, what?”

I spun away from him, clawing at my hair as I tried to convert the mush he’d made of my brain into something solid and usable. He was a damn good interrogator. But unlike my brothers who preferred to play with knives in getting people to open up, Hudson definitely took the bees-with-honey approach to get people to bend to his will.

“You’re not leaving me.” I moved the gun box for the 9mm to the side and sat down with a harumph of frustration falling from my lips.

“I’ll come back for you.” He’d said those words so innocently, and I latched on to that “for you” in hopes it meant what I wanted it to. That we’d be together one day. Not riding off into war, but into the sunset.

Just maybe not on a horse. My ass had a long memory, and it’d yet to forget the literal pain riding one had caused me.

That thought helped me move past the darkness so I could remind him this was a two-way street. “I’m sorry, but if you get control over my safety, and my orgasms, I get control over yours. Works both ways. Fair is fair.” I stared at the floor in a daze, chewing the side of my lip.

“You do, huh? Is that how this works?” The touch of humor there had my attention, and he reached for my arm and urged me to stand before him.

“If by ‘how this works,’ you mean a relationship, then yes.”

I had to stick to my guns so he didn’t take off by himself with actual ones. Worried he’d melt me with one look and have my nerves folding out from under me lightning quick again, I hurriedly added, “I won’t let you become a damsel, or whatever the dude version is, in distress.”

Watching him fight a smile gave me hope. Perhaps I was managing to gain strategic ground in our little war, edging closer to claiming a victory. It was time to swoop in and remind him he wasn’t alone.

“You’ll go, get yourself in trouble, then we’ll have to swoop in and save your ass at the last minute. It’ll be soooo much easier if we just have your back from the beginning, don’t you think?”

He hung his head at that.

“You know I’m right. This isn’t like the books you read. This is real life. And if you take off like some stubborn lone wolf, there’s no guarantee it ends well. Do you really want to be responsible for single-handedly ruining my life?” I’d gone from a teasing tone to about to cry in the space of a second. “Because if something happens to you, I’m done.” Breathing hard, tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I considered that horrific possibility. “You’re not just Constantine’s best friend. You’re mine. And maybe love comes and goes for people, but a friendship like ours is forever, and I⁠—”

“Fuck.” Hands flying to my face, he matched my deep breaths and rasped, “I’m trying so hard not to love you, and you’re making it so goddamn difficult for me.”

His mouth fell over mine, and my lips parted like a sea for him, allowing him safe passage right to the kingdom of my heart.

His hands went from my face down to my arms as he ravished me with his hungry kisses, letting me taste the word love he’d dropped.

Pressed up against him, gathered in his arms, the towel dropped from the friction between us, and he stole his lips away from mine and stared at my eyes as he stood naked before me.

“Stop trying so hard not to do something you so clearly want to do,” I whispered, my voice nevertheless still breaking. I wasn’t sure why he was fighting it so much, especially now that he’d cleared the air around his past and Constantine gave his blessing, but the fight was still there. Right in the way he was staring at me now, and it scared me. “Just love me instead.”

His forehead tightened as he thumbed away a tear. He opened his mouth, but shut it when the sound of a text from somewhere in the room chimed.

He bowed his forehead to mine at the interruption. “That could be Alfie with a location.” His low, guttural voice ripped through me.

“You should check it, then,” I said between sniffles as he skated his hands down to my wrists, then let me go and moved backward with hesitant steps.

As much as I wanted to remain tethered to this moment, that fear in his eyes pulled me in with the same impact. So much so, I couldn’t even shamelessly check him out when he knelt to pick up the towel.

He tightened it around his hips and went for his phone. “It’s him. He sent me coordinates.”

I turned to see him typing, probably checking for where Alfie planned to try and steal him away from me.

“Looks like I’m going to Spain today.” His words gave me whiplash, jerking my head up in shock.

“Doesn’t that sound problematic? Trappy-like given that we now know the terrorists are probably going to a backup plan to free their boss. And that the CIA may let them so they can try and swoop in and grab them all?” My hand flew to my chest and over my heart. “Probably in Spaaain.” I put as much emphasis as possible on that word in case my guy wasn’t thinking clearly. His head still misplaced in the guilt-blame gutter. Plus, my sassy mouth usually did better at getting through to him than my rational one did.

Instead of answering me, he simply said my name like it had a question mark both before and after it.

“Yes?” The word caught in my throat, barely coming out. The idea of him resisting help and flying to Spain alone had me feeling like that broken coffee cup from earlier. I was in pieces. Fragments of busted-up pottery.

His brows pinched as he stared at me while he lowered the phone to his side. “Just so you know, you’re more than a best friend to me.” Not what I’d expected him to say, but I sure as hell hoped this wasn’t him trying to distract me again. I had to admit, he’d done a hell of a job with the smolder and brood moments ago.

Then another thought hit me, forcing the breath in my lungs to slip out in the form of a somber sigh. I was now not only worried about a distraction, but that he may follow up his sweet comment with a “but” and break my heart.

“Well, who am I, then?” I asked when he’d yet to elaborate, my anxiety taking over for my mouth.

He tossed the phone on the bed, then ate up what was left of the space between us. Reaching for my hand, he locked our fingers together and swiftly drew me against him. “The woman I’d bring home to my mother.”

It took me a dizzying moment to put two and two together. Because of course I’d already met his mom, but⁠—

He interrupted my internal rambling by covering my mouth with his.

Instead of the rejection I’d expected from him, soft kisses of surrender followed. And between them, he told me what I needed to hear. “Pack a bag. Looks like you’re coming to Spain with me.”