Laurelin Paige - Hudson

But Alayna will not be my subject. I will not experiment with her emotions. I will not let her break. If anything, this will be a study of myself. It will be an opportunity to see if anyone can break me.

As I solidify my plans, I nurse my drink and continue to watch her. Soon, she’s left to manage the bar herself. She cleans the counters with what seems to be nervous energy. Then she looks toward me. It’s a ray of sun escaping heavy cloud cover when her eyes find mine again.

She sweeps toward me and nods at my near empty glass. “Another?”

“No, I’m good.” I don’t need any more. I’m intoxicated by her presence. I reach in my breast pocket and pull a hundred from my billfold. I don’t intend to accept the change.

She rings up my order at the register and I realize our encounter is nearing an end. I feel compelled to talk to her, to soak up as much of her as I can in the last few moments of anonymity that I will share with her.

I debate for a moment an appropriate conversation starter that will neither give anything away about me nor appear creepy. I remember the toast that was shared among the staff and choose to remark on that. “Special occasion?”

Her brow creases. “Uh, yeah. My graduation. I walk tomorrow for my MBA.”

I already know this, but as I’m genuinely impressed by her, it’s not hard to display admiration. “Congratulations. Here’s to your every success.” I lift my glass to her and then shoot back the last of it.

“Thank you.” Her eyes are on my mouth and I can’t help myself—I lick my lips and delight as her pupils dilate in reaction.

She reaches out to give me my change.

I almost change my mind about accepting it. It would be another opportunity to touch her, and I burn for that. But I’m already stiff as it is. I don’t want to encourage my desire, not tonight. So I shake my head and say, “Keep it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” It’s not the first time I’ve tipped so generously, but it’s the first time I’ve really cared that it be accepted. “Consider it a graduation gift.”

“Okay.” She concedes, but I sense that it’s difficult for her. “Thanks.”

Her surrender, simple as it is, arouses me further. She’s turned from me now, but I’m not ready to let her go. “Is this also a goodbye party?” She faces me again. “I don’t imagine you’ll be using your MBA to continue bartending.” God, those eyes. Those eyes find me, every time.

She hesitates. “Actually, I’d like to move up here. I love the nightclub scene.” She seems to prepare herself for my criticism.

Three weeks ago, I would have given it. Now, I say, “It makes you alive.”

“Exactly.” She breaks into a smile.

“It shows.” When I’d first learned she’d chosen to stay at The Sky Launch rather than use her degree in a more traditional way, I’d assumed that Alayna had an affinity with the club. Having witnessed her in this environment and comparing it to her presentation at Stern, I see it’s even more than that. This place is a life force for her. She’s struck me with her beauty both times I’ve seen her. Here, though, her beauty is transcendent.

“Laynie!” It’s the drunk kid down the bar. Alayna leaves me to attend to him. I eavesdrop, cringing as he gives her his number. I wonder how many times she gets hit on in an evening. It bothers me more than I want it to. Once more, I curse her outfit.

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem too interested in this guy. She throws his number away the minute he leaves, catching my eye as she does.

I could smile and nod and we wouldn’t have to discuss it. But I find myself wanting to know, so I ask, “Do you do that with every number you receive?”

Really, I just want her to talk to me some more. Yet another way to demand her attention.

She studies me. “Are you trying to figure out if I’d throw away your number?”

I can’t help myself—I laugh. “Maybe.”

She smiles, illuminating the space around her. It’s the kind of smile that some men would do anything to see as often as possible. I wonder what it would feel like to be that kind of man.

Then she leans on the counter toward me, and my gaze is pulled to the gorgeous curve of her tits. “I wouldn’t throw yours away. I wouldn’t take yours at all.”

I manage to lift my eyes to hers. “Not your type?”

“Not necessarily.”

I’m enjoying this conversation much more than I should. “Why then?”

“Because you’re looking for something temporary. Something fun to play with.” She leans closer and it takes all my strength not to look back down at her breasts, not to notice if her nipples are puckered against the thin fabric of her blouse, not to reach forward and brush them with my fingertips.

“And I get attached.” She straightens. “Now doesn’t that just scare you shitless?”

Scare me shitless? It turns me the fuck on. Everything she does and says is more fuel for a fire of desire that is slowly overtaking me. I’m beginning to think I’d do anything to be near her. Oh, that’s right—I’ve already done anything.

And she assumes she’s the dark one of the two of us. It’s amusing.

“You, Alayna Withers, do anything but scare me.” I stand and button my coat. I’m tempted to stay longer, but I’ve just dropped that I know her name. I shouldn’t be here when she realizes. “Congratulations again. Quite an accomplishment.”

Long after I’ve left, I feel her eyes on me. The warmth and life contained in her gaze clings to my body even after I’m home. Consumes me. I think about her while I’m in the shower as I stroke myself. I come fast and hard and still her presence cleaves to me like a second skin.

Needing to see her again soon, I decide to gift her a week at my spa in the mountains near Poughkeepsie. I’ll have it delivered anonymously and then I’ll join her there. I can meet her on equal ground. I can get to know her, spend time with her, seduce her. It would likely put Celia’s scheme in jeopardy which is just an added bonus.

The idea thrills me and delights me as I think about it.

And then I let it go.

I know from experience that Celia is a worthy foe. Any violation of her plan on my part will result in retaliation. Though I don’t fear what she can do to me, I am attached in this odd way to Alayna Withers. I care about what Celia can and will do to her. My protection can only be effective if I stay the course.

Though I’m a fairly humorless person, I laugh at my own attempt to fool myself. I’m not invested in this for Alayna’s benefit. It’s all for my own. I want to be close to the woman. I want to study the effect she has on me. I want to see her survive, but it’s for my own selfish satisfaction.

Still, I decide to give her the spa trip. I’m not sure what motivates me to do so. I don’t leave my name on the gift note so it’s not about endearing her to me. I truly want her to go because I think she’d enjoy it. Because I want her to have a moment of pleasure in a life that has been less than easy. Perhaps I am capable of unselfish actions after all.

Or maybe I just know Alayna will have a better chance in Celia’s game if she enters it pampered and well-rested. That’s a more likely reason for my actions. I’m capable of manipulating the thoughts of many, but I can’t convince myself that I’m a better person than I am, no matter how hard I try.

I’m a composed man. Always in control. I’ve run meetings of disgruntled board members without forming a bead of sweat. I’ve bid on high stock investments without altering my pulse. I’ve played convincible mind games without batting an eye.

Tonight, in the presence of a woman I hardly know, I’m in over my head.

Perhaps I’m losing my touch. Or maybe I’ve just finally met my match.

Alayna enters the bubble room before me. Just yesterday, on her first shift after her vacation at my spa, I was introduced to her as the new owner of the club. We haven’t yet had a chance to establish a working relationship. This is by design. I don’t want her to see me as her boss or a business associate. I need her to see me as a man. As a potential lover.

So here we are in as close to a non-work environment as I can establish within the club. She’s accompanying me while I eat dinner. The setup should feel to her like a date. However, it also feels like a date for me and that is why I’m a bit daunted.

At least we’ll be daunted together.

Alayna flips the switch to indicate our bubble room is occupied. Then she hands me a menu. It’s slightly amusing. She’s not on-the-clock, and yet she’s still on duty.

I gesture for her to take a seat. “After you.”

She sits, and I watch her closely. Her knuckles are nearly white from gripping the table edge. Her heel is bouncing against the carpeted floor. She’s nervous to be here—alone—with me. Frankly, I am too. But it’s up to me to calm her nerves. And mine.

Jesus, I’m fucked.

I remove my jacket and take my time hanging it up on the hook behind me. This is when I get my shit together. I’ve only got one shot at pulling this off and if I don’t do it right, the whole scheme is over before it’s begun. And I’ll look like an idiot.

One deep breath in and I’m ready to face her. Game on.

I sit across from her and throw down the menu she gave me. “I don’t need this. Do you?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Pierce.”

“Hudson,” I correct.

“No, thank you, Hudson.” The sound of my name on her lips and I’m already straining in my pants. “I’ve already eaten.”

“A drink then? Though, I know you work at eleven.” This is all a ruse. I’ve already ordered for us both. And I’m the one who needs the drink.

Alayna’s tongue flicks across her lower lip. “Maybe an iced tea.”

Now I’m thinking of her tongue flicking across my cock. “Good.”

I press the button in the middle of the table that summons the waitress and my fingers crash into hers. Her touch, the stunning warmth in this brief contact—I must have more. She moves to pull away, but I don’t let her and take her hand in mine.

She inhales sharply as I stroke my thumb along the back of her hand.

I lock my eyes on hers, noticing her pupils widen. I make an excuse about why I’m still touching her. She accepts it. From the look on her expression, she’ll accept anything I say at the moment.

She’s into me. This is good.

I’d worried that my harsh meeting with her the day before had ended her attraction. Admittedly, I’d been…not very friendly is one way to put it. It was necessary though. She’d been dressed provocatively—again—and I’d made a scene about it. I had to establish my authority in front of David. I had to show from the beginning that Alayna would not be my favorite as far as work was concerned—though she very much already was.

And I had to put an end to her wearing outfits that invited men to harass her. Maybe she could handle their advances. I could not.

Necessary as it was, the flare of anger that had sparked in her eyes afterward had concerned me. Now, as I caress her skin, and she practically melts in my hand, I realize my anxiety was in vain.

Also, I realize how nice it feels to touch her like this. Extremely nice.

My phone rings, interrupting our contact.

“Excuse me.” I remove my phone from my pants pocket and silence it. I know from the ringtone who it is—Celia. She’s likely checking in on my progress.

Fuck her. She’s too eager and it pisses me off. I’ll get back to her when I’m good and ready, if at all.

“You can take it if you need to,” Alayna says.

“There can’t be anything important enough to interrupt this conversation.” It’s a line and not a line all at once. Is it possible to play the game and be sincere at the same time? My script is very loose. I know where I’m supposed to end before I walk out of this room, but everything that takes place before then is improvised. In my past schemes, I’d study the subject and make educated guesses as to what he or she wanted to hear in order to get them to the finish. I artfully manipulated.

This is not like that.

Though everything I have said and done so far has set me up perfectly for my task, a great deal of it has come organically. It’s genuine.

It’s such a foreign arrangement that, again, I have the sensation of being completely fucked.

The waitress enters and I’m relieved for the break in my thoughts. She places my dinner in front of me along with a glass of Sancerre. Then she sets a glass of iced tea in front of Alayna.