Heat: A Soldiers of Fortune Romance (18 page)

“Reagan!”

I snap out of my fantasy to see Donald shaking his head and snapping his fingers at me, Erika tut-tuting behind him like some sort of angry schoolmarm.

“I need you to be
here
, Reagan,” He huffs, his face red; “If you’d rather daydream though, let me know now and I’ll quit wasting my time with this damn campaign.”

I
want
to snap at him, but in all honestly, I know he’s right. We are
way
too deep into this campaign for me to be slacking off like this and letting myself be carried away by distractions. Fuck, is that what he is? I mean everything that we said back there at the house was so nakedly honest, and so real, and
God
did it feel real when his tongue slid into my pussy like that. But,
Goddamnit
, no! How fucking stupid am I to get involved with
Hudson
Banks
of all freaking people! Never mind the past; the fact that he
works for
my largest campaign contributor, which I’m already going to get shit for sharing the same name with, is another huge blaring warning sign! I can’t even imagine the shit-storm my run would find itself in if the papers got ahold of the juicy tidbit that I was
fucking
my campaign contributor!

Well, not fucking yet.
Yet; which means there’s still time to end this. I can stop this train wreck now right here before it goes any further; before the risk gets any bigger to the campaign, and to me. There’s too much at stake here, and its just not worth it.

Now, if I could just convince myself of that.

“I’m here, I’m sorry Donald.” I let the air out through pursed lips; “Honestly I think I’m just tired and worn out from the day. You guys mind if we break here so I can go take a shower?”

Donald grumbles but nods as I stand; “Just be ready to hit this tomorrow, ok? You’ve got that interview in the morning, the other one later after lunch, and then the gala event with Congressman Kennedy in the evening.”

“I will.”
Because tomorrow, I’m nipping this in the bud with Hudson and putting an end to the distractions.

“Ooo! Don’t forget to use that facial scrub I got you! Reagan!” Erika say something else about cucumbers and tea-tree oil as I roll my eyes and leave them in the conference room.

*****

The hotel we’re staying at in Midtown is
exactly
the kind of campaign expense I don’t particularly enjoy, even though I know it’s all part of the pageantry of the race. I’ve tried to tell Donald a million times that it’s ridiculous for me to be staying here, seeing as I
live
barely ten blocks away, but he’s insisted that at this point in my campaign, I need a “headquarters”.

Right; what I
need
is a stiff drink to give me the courage to figure out what I’m going to say to Hudson. I pause for just a second outside his door, almost temped to knock on it and just rip the band-aid off right then, but I stop myself of course. Tightening the fist I was about to pound on his door with, I walk into my own room and close the door mercifully behind me.

I feel a shiver as I strip off my clothes in the bathroom, still feeling the lingering graces of his touch on my body as I turn on the water. I still have no idea what I'm going to say to him, but I'm bracing myself to do it anyways; it’s the only realistic thing to do at this point.

The shower spray is bliss; hot, sudsy, and steamy to the point where I can just let go a little bit and let it all just take me away. So much so, in fact, that I don’t even hear the door to the bathroom open until it shuts, at which point I practically jump out of my skin. My scream freezes in my throat as he yanks the shower curtain back and smirks at me.

"Hudson!" I gasp, my hands clutching at my chest; "What the
fuck!
"

He grins wickedly and shushes me.

"Are you fucking insane?!" I husk at him, still meekly covering myself with my hands as if he hasn't seen me naked before; as if he hadn't just had his mouth on my pussy barely hours before; "Donald and Erika are in the conference room right down the hall, get
out
of here!" I hiss at him though clenched teeth.

He smirks at me; "Well I guess that means you'd better keep quiet then."

"Hud-"

He pulls off his towel, and he's rock hard, his erection throbbing as he grins at me and steps into the shower with me.

"Hudson, I-" I can feel my resolve cracking; already forgetting all those poetic words I'd been putting together in my head to tell him why we couldn't continue this exact behavior anymore. He's steps close to me, so close I can feel my own body betraying me; warming, and wanting him nearer still.

"We can't- we can't do this-"

"Reagan," His voice is low and growling; "I'm going to kiss you on the count of five. And if you don't want me to do that, you're going to have to tell me, because after that, you're going to have to
stop
me."

Goddamnit, why won't he listen to me! I can't do this, as much as every fiber of my being wants  to. He steps closer to me, so close that I can practically feel his skin on mine, though he's still not touching me. The water trickles over his chiseled and inked chest, over the scars and the muscles there.

"Hudson-"

"One."

"Damnit, get
out
of the shower!" I whisper noncommittally, barely believing the words myself.

"Two."

His hand reaches up and he trails his fingertips across the arm I've still got covering my breasts, making me shiver despite the steam from the shower. But we can
not
fucking do this! It could ruin the whole campaign and everything that I've worked so hard for.

"Three."
 

I'm wet; so fucking wet and ready for him that it's making my knees feel week. But we can't-

"Four."

"Hudson, shut up." My resolve crumbles completely and I slide my hands into his hair and kiss him fiercely, as if I'd fly away without my lips on his another second. He growls as his strong arms wrap tightly around me, his hands sliding over my skin and grabbing me as he pulls me tight against his skin. I moan into his mouth, feeling his cock throb hotly pressed between us. His hand slides around over my hip and down between my legs to stroke my clit, and I pull away from his kiss and gasp as I feel him slip his fingers inside of me. I rock against him, whimpering his name as the water cascades over our skin; over his scars and ink and over everything that's ever separated us. I drop my hands to his cock, shuttling my hand up and down his enormous hardness as he curls his fingers inside of me, stroking against that sweet spot. I'm so close as I feel him growl into my neck, and it's taking everything I have not to cry out loud and scream his name as he coaxes me closer and closer to that sweet edge.

He bites my ear lobe between his teeth; "Come for me, Reagan. Come for me
right
now." When I do scream this time, I muffle it into his shoulder. My whole body shudders against him as my orgasm shatters through me, and I clutch him to me tightly, as if he might float away.

P A S T

It’s the pretending to care that gets old after a while. It’s exhausting really, pretending I’m interested in what they’re saying, or their opinions on the menu, or in
them
as people when really, I just don’t care. I’m going out with girls because I know I should, and I know it’s something I
need
to do to get my mind off of her, but it never helps. If anything, it just makes it worse.

A year later, and here I am out with some other redhead who only even vaguely looks like her, who’s chattering at me across the dinner table about - fuck, actually I have no idea. I’m dating because I know a man of my position
should
be dating cute women in skimpy dresses at fancy restaurants. I mean let’s face it, there’s already enough weird shit about me to make me stand out more than I ever want to; being that weird guy who
never
goes out or is
never seen
with a hot girl on his arm is just a reputation I don’t need if I’m trying to blend in.

When I drop her back off at her apartment, she looks at me like I’m completely nuts when I politely decline her invitation to come up for for coffee “and maybe a little cream and sugar”. Besides it being such an over-the-top line, I’m just not interested. I mean shit, the old me would’ve had her dress off halfway up the stairs; hell, the old me would’ve probably fucked her in the bathroom of that 5-star restaurant. But the new me feels pulled in too many directions, and is hounded by to many demons, and is
haunted
by the memory of the one perfect girl who no one is ever going to replace.

And as I roar away from the redhead’s apartment, I wonder just how in the hell I’m ever going to get Reagan Archer out of my fucking head.

P R E S E N T

We’re giggling like fucking teenager as we stumble out of the shower, barely toweled off and leaving wet footprints across the carpet. She pushes me back in this big stuffed chair by the window of her room, and before I know it, she’s kneeling at my feet. When her lips wrap around my cock, it’s fucking
miles
better than every single one of the multitude
of fantasies I’ve had of this exact moment. Her tongue slides across the underside of me as she begins to gently suck, and I’m just
done
. I’m gasping for breath with my hands running through her long red hair as she moans and swirls her tongue around me. When I warn her, she only moans louder and sucks me deeper, and I explode inside her mouth as I gasp out her name.

She giggles as she pulls away, wiping her mouth in this way that would look just plain slutty with literally any other girl in the world but her; on her it just looks incredible. She smiles shyly up at me as I try to form words though the fog in my head. Our eyes meet and then I’m pulling her up into my lap and kissing her neck and feeling her whimper softly into my ear.
 

“You trying to kill me, Red?” I growl, nipping at her earlobe and loving the way it makes her gasp.

“No but I’m starting to see the appeal all those other girls found in you.”

She’s giggling, teasing me, and I groan as bring her lips to mine; “there
are
no other girls but you, you know that right?” She’s kissing me, and then as her hand drops to my lap she stats to giggle again

“Oh my
God
-“

“What?”

She laughs- the sound so fucking beautiful and musical; “Hudson-“ Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are blushing bright red as she nods at my cock, standing straight up between us; “You’re still, um-“ She’s trails off, and I shrug, not being able to help but add in a smug smirk at the fact that I’m still hard. Reagan bites her lip; “Do you- um, do you have one?”

Fuck
. Of
course
I don’t. The old me had them stuffed into every pocket I owned, but of the course the second the new me needs one more than a dying man needs water in the desert, I’m without. She sees the hesitation on my face and smirks as she reaches for her purse on the table next to us; rummaging around before coming out with a little foil packet in her hand and an adorable pink glow to her cheeks. I raise my eyebrows teasingly and she rolls her eyes; “You should probably check and make sure it isn’t expired.”

She’s grinning at me as our eyes meet, and I feel
so
fucking close to this girl without even being inside her that it practically knocks the wind out of me. I’m not used to feeling this emotionally exposed with someone; this naked. In fact, even with all the women before, I’m fairy certain in that moment that I’ve
never
felt quite like this before; the sobering epiphany hits me that
this
is what making love feels like. She looks at me, so innocently, and so full of need that I’m suddenly terrified of shattering everything that she with the burden of what I carry.