Tiny Glitches: A Magical Contemporary Romance (37 page)

“Hudson, it’s me. Do you remember that buckle you won in your first 4-H show? Your dad just found it in the attic.” She paused, then said, “Why don’t you give us a call? It’s been months since we’ve talked. I’ve been missing you.”

I twisted in my seat to look at Hudson.

“That was my mom,” he said. He was staring at the answering machine. “I can’t remember the last time she said she missed me.”

I don’t think he realized how vulnerable he sounded. I walked to him and hugged him from behind.

“Sounds like you miss her, too.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been back that much since college. Mom always thought I’d stay in the family business, but it wasn’t me. Now I feel guilty when I go back and guilty when I stay away.”

“There’s not a lot of electrical engineering involved in racing horses, I take it.”

Hudson twisted in my arms to face me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “No. Not much.”

“This is where I tell you I told you so.”

“What?” Hudson’s expression turned guarded. “What are you talking about?”

“You think it’s coincidence that I straightened up your family bagua and you get a call from your mom out of the blue?”

“Well . . .”

I arched a brow at him. He relaxed in my arms, a smile tugging at his lips.

“It could be a coincidence.”

“Good thing I know that stubborn men make great lovers.”

“We do, huh?”

“Well, the scientific experiments are ongoing. If you know of any other stubborn men I can test my theory on—”

Hudson backed me up against the wall, pinning me with his body. “You won’t find anyone more stubborn than me.”

“Oh? I don’t know. I—”

He cut off my words with a kiss. Languid energy infused my tired limbs, and I melted against him.

“No one else,” he growled.

“Mmm, are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I pulled back to examine his dilated eyes, thrilled to see he was serious. Whatever this was between us, he felt its intensity, too, and was just as addicted.

“Good. The same goes for you,” I said.

The next kiss left us both panting, and Hudson looked smug when he lifted his head. “Glad we got that settled.”

Going on my tiptoes, I kissed along Hudson’s jaw to his ear and nibbled his earlobe. He groaned and slid his hands behind my back, pulling me from the wall enough to cup my butt. I ground against him. His shoulder muscles flexed beneath my hands; then he lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, shifting for another hot kiss.

When he spun us from the wall, I tightened my arms around him, not relaxing even after he set me down on the smooth kitchen counter. Neither of us broke the kiss. The velvet of his tongue and the not-so-gentle ministrations of his lips zinged pleasure through my body, and I wriggled closer.

A soft brush of his thumbs against my stomach only emphasized all of the clothing between us, and I unfisted my hands from Hudson’s shirt to wad the fabric more productively, tugging it up over his head. He leaned back to assist me, and I tightened my calves around him to keep him close. His shirt disappeared in the direction of the refrigerator while I admired his firm torso. I flattened my hands against his pectorals, then slid them down his chest, curling my fingers to lightly graze my nails across his abdomen. Hudson hissed, stomach tightening, and I glanced at him through my lashes.

“Christ, Eva.” Hudson slid a hand around the nape of my neck, pulling me to him for another intoxicating kiss, and when he drew back, my bra’s clasp hung undone against my back and my shirt was bunched around my ribs. Hudson circled his hands around my torso, pushing my bra and shirt aside to cup my breasts.

The heat of his palms saturated my skin, arousing and unexpectedly comforting. A rush of tenderness spiraled through my lust, and I ran my fingers across Hudson’s temple and down his cheek. His blue eyes lifted to mine, obviously surprised, but whatever he saw in my expression made him smile. He leaned into my touch, teasing his thumbs in slow circles around my nipples and sending leisurely waves of pleasure pulsing to my middle. I traced his lips, then stroked my thumb across his bottom lip, watching lust darken his expression until my own pleasure pulled my eyes closed.

Hudson shifted, and I slid my fingers through his hair as he dipped toward my breast, my gentle touch turning demanding when his mouth settled over my nipple, hot and wet. His tongue flicked across the sensitive peak, and I clutched his shoulders, clinging to him as I arched to give him better access.

“Hudson, I think . . .”

He trailed kisses across my chest to my other nipple, and I lifted toward him to meet his mouth, moaning as I watched his tongue flutter over my nipple. I writhed against him, pressing our bodies as close together as our clothing would allow.

“You think what?” Hudson breathed the words against my breast, but they didn’t register until he lifted his head.

“What?”

“You said you think . . .”

I stared at his kiss-swollen lips, trying to remember what I’d been saying. “I think I have too many clothes on.”

“I agree.” Hudson tugged my shirt and bra over my head and tossed them behind him to the floor. I reached for his pants, but he captured my hands and placed them back around his neck. “One second.”

He picked me up, and I think he meant to carry me to the bedroom, but we made it only as far as the couch. In a frantic, clumsy rush, we peeled our shoes, pants, and underwear off, and from somewhere, Hudson produced a condom. I would have cheered, but I was too busy kissing a path down his body. I reached his belly button when he stopped me.

“One lick, and I’m toast,” he said, his voice husky.

I arched an eyebrow and flicked my tongue over the crest of his cock.

“Eva!” Hudson stepped back, trying to give me a stern look but ruining it completely with a goofy grin. In record time, he rolled on the condom, then tipped me back onto the couch. I went willingly, reaching for him as he placed one knee between my legs. The couch was narrow, and it would be a tight fit, but I was certain we were up for the challenge.

With one foot still on the floor, Hudson captured my hands and lifted them above my head to anchor them against the armrest with one hand.

“Hey,” I protested halfheartedly.

“Shh.” He kissed me, a quick peck.

I lifted my eyebrows, not sure if I should object for real. Then his free hand traced down my arm, over my breast, and down my stomach, and I my potential complaint evaporated. Twisting his hand so his palm brushed my clitoris and his fingers slid between my thighs, Hudson slowly delved a finger inside me. I arched into his hand, gasping with delight when he made little circles with his palm.

I reached for him, but the weight of his hand on my wrists prevented me from moving. The rhythm of his other hand against me didn’t alter, building pleasure in a warm tide. I tentatively struggled, but it was like trying to move an iron bar. He had me trapped, pinned down and completely at his pleasurable mercy. And it was hot as hell.

“Hud . . . son.” My breath caught on a jolt of pleasure.

His smile when he met my eyes was cocky and only heightened my arousal.

“I want you,” I said. My words came out breathy and low, and Hudson’s smile dissolved as his features tightened with lust. He bent closer for a long, hot kiss, slowly sliding his fingers from me so I writhed against him. Releasing my wrists, he planted his other knee on the couch, and in frustratingly slow increments, slid into me. I ran my hands up his taut forearms and biceps, straining toward him.

“You feel so good, Eva.”

“Faster,” I panted. “Please.”

“Uh-uh. We’ve been doing everything fast. Let’s take our time.”

“Now?”

His lazy grin surprised me. “Don’t think you can?”

I shook my head, my body thrumming with pleasure, my breath too fast for how still we lay. When he began to move—
finally
—pleasure suffused my body, tightening with each thrust. Hudson’s arms trembled, but he maintained his controlled, slow, maddening rhythm. I wrapped my legs around his hips and met him, thrust for thrust, until the pressure inside me rode the cusp between pleasure and pain and unraveled in an explosive, rolling orgasm. Hudson followed me, arching over me with a shout of release.

“Slow enough?” I asked later, once Hudson had shifted so I lay on top of him.

“Mmm. No, we’ll have to practice.”

* * *

I woke to the first light of dawn beyond the curtains in Hudson’s bedroom and the feel of Hudson’s large palm spread across my breast, his body spooning mine. I stretched against him, enjoying the ache of muscles well used. Warm lips brushed my shoulder, and Hudson eased closer. Yep, he was awake and happy. Neither of us spoke, as if afraid words would let the world rush in uninvited. It was only after we’d taken turns showering that we addressed reality.

“What’s the plan today?” Hudson asked as he poured two bowls of a granola.

“Go home. I need to clean up.” I dressed in the same jeans as the day before, and my duffel had included one final clean shirt, but even if I’d had another week’s worth of clean clothes, I was ready to be back in my loft.

“I’d better bring a change of clothes,” Hudson half teased.

“You’re coming with me?” I’d expected Hudson to go back to work today and reclaim some normalcy. Until Miriam got back to me, there wasn’t much else to do.

“Of course. Let me check with Matvei—”

The sliding glass door burst open. We both spun and I clutched at my heart. Miriam stood on Hudson’s back patio with her hands on her hips, letting in a rush of crisp morning air as she graced us with a professional glare.

“What’s wrong with the doorbell?” I asked.

“You didn’t expect me to saunter past the surveillance team, did you?”

Shutting the door behind her, Miriam stalked to the kitchen. A steel infinity symbol twisted and looped over her heart. She was on a mission and she wasn’t going to be budged from it. Water—again, an apparition—dripped nonstop from her to a puddle at her feet, and ridiculously long neon green nails tipped her real ones. I sighed. After draining the house of electricity, it was no less than I should have expected. The divinations around Hudson were overactive as well. This was another reason I preferred sleeping in my own home: no visual bombardment the next morning.

“Did you find something already?” I asked, deciding to ignore her dramatic entrance.

“Aside from the fact that you’ve got three parties watching your place?”

“The FBI, a blond Russian fellow, and two black guys in a crappy little Tercel?” Hudson guessed.

“No Tercel. Who’s the blond guy?”

“Matvei. My useless coworker.”

“Who’s the third?” I asked.

“A sedan, guy’s got dark hair, midthirties, Caucasian. He drove by twice, so he might not be watching, just lost. Ready to admit you’re in over your head yet?”

I shook my head. “What’d you find out?”

“That you’re in over your head.” She flipped open a folder she’d had tucked down the front of her jacket. “Three of those sketches your aunt gave us linked to women with Interpol rap sheets a mile long, none of it petty. Miyu Shimizu, Yuuka Yamaguchi, and Nanami Sato.”

“What about the other two?” I asked, curious about the extras Sofie had seen in her divinations.

“No hits. Were they part of the kidnapping?”

“I don’t think so. Sofie was working from memory of faces that were covered with ski masks most of the time. I think she guessed on a couple,” I said.

“Well, she was dead-on with these three. I checked out the Jennifer Winters case, too. It was pretty boring until you two showed up, acting suspicious enough to raise the radar of a dead agent. You’ve been sleeping somewhere different every night, dropping cars like they’re stolen, associating with criminals.”

“Yeah, Coutu and Sevallo told us about Atlas and Edmond,” Hudson said. “I did a little checking on my own. They’re small-time.”

“They were also the only suspected collaborators with Winters until five days ago,” Miriam said. “Now you’re number one and two on the list. Plus, that charming little woman you brought to Carmela’s? Dempsey Semenchuk?”

“It’s pronounced ‘Sim-ens-huk,’” I said, fighting a smile.

“Semen-chuk, Sim-ens-huk, either way, Dempsey’s got quite the string of trespassing charges and restraining orders, with a few citations for causing a nuisance and one dropped charge for breaking and entering.”

After meeting Dempsey over the business end of Attila, I had no trouble picturing her acquiring a rap sheet.

“How you got tied to Maxwell Overton and the tax evasion scheme he’s got going, or what that has to do with Jennifer Winters, has the whole team thoroughly confused.”

“Who?” Hudson asked.

I frowned. “I don’t know a Maxwell Over— Max! He’s a client. I did a consultation for him a few days ago.” I rounded on Miriam. “I’m not part of any tax evasion scheme! How could you think that?”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? That you’re not involved in some white-collar crime? The women holding your ‘friend’ have warrants for manslaughter.”