A free spirit like him might not want an obligation like this.
My body shivers, and whether it’s from the cold or the reality that there’s a high chance I’m going to be flying completely solo on this mission, I’ll never know.
“You want to head inside?” he asks, reaching for my ice-cold fingertips and warming them in his hand. “You’re freezing.”
I nod, waiting as Hudson rises before pulling me up beside him. He turns me to face him, our eyes locking as he cups my chin softly in his hand.
“What are you doing?” I offer a nervous, breathy laugh.
“Kissing you,” he says it like it’s a done deal, a non-negotiable declaration of his intentions.
“Why?”
His lips draw closer to mine, and I inhale the clean scent of his cologne as it emanates from his warm skin.
“Because I want to.” His lips skim against mine. “Because I feel like it.” He exhales. “And because I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night, and I knew, Mari, that this moment was completely unavoidable.”
“You’re making this extremely complicated, Hudson.”
He answers me with a kiss, his lips pressing against mine with an impatient greed, his fingers slipping behind my neck and knotting in my hair as he guides my mouth.
The lights above the porch on the back of Sea La Vie flick on, illuminating the large expanse of private beach which, a second ago, felt cozy and secluded … a little island of our own.
I pull away from him.
“They’re home now.” I gather the beach blankets in a hurry. “We should head in.”
Rinsing my face in the marble sink of my suite bathroom, I blot it dry with a fluffy gray towel before lifting my fingertips to my mouth, tracing the places Hudson’s lips resided moments earlier.
I don’t know why he’s doing this, but if he keeps it up, it’s not going to end well for any of us. And despite the fact that I’m well aware, I can’t deny how good it feels to be wanted by a man like him.
Just weeks ago, I used to ruminate about all the reasons I couldn’t stand this man, and now I find myself quietly admiring his confidence and intelligence while I mentally replay that intense night we shared together in his bed.
Exhaling, I shake my head in the mirror.
This is wrong.
I can’t let this go any further—at least not physically.
A soft knock on my bedroom door sends my heart into a freefall and my thoughts scattering like leaves to the wind.
Fuck wrong.
Running across the room, I grab the door handle and pull it wide, unable to wipe the devilish grin off my face.
“Audrina.” My smile vanishes.
“You’re pregnant.” She pushes past me, causing the door to swing open and slap against the wall.
Scrambling to close it, I make sure no one’s in the hall before turning back to her. Hands on my hips, I watch her pacing my room like a crazy person.
“It makes perfect sense,” she says, though I’m not sure if she’s speaking to me or just thinking out loud. “And it’s the only reason Hudson would marry someone like you so quickly.”
“Someone like me?” My jaw hangs. I hate this bitch.
“Plus you’re not drinking. You toasted with fucking water at your engagement party and you haven’t so much as touched a drop of wine all weekend.”
“I don’t drink.” I shrug, stating it with conviction.
“Sweetheart, I saw the tattoo on your ankle.” Her tone is smug, and I want to rip that smart-assed smirk off her pretty little face. “You’re not some conservative Mary Poppins.”
“Tattoos have nothing to do with alcohol,” I say. “And I’m not pregnant, so you can just put your little theory to rest.”
She stops pacing in front of me, her eyes lowering to my belly.
For a fraction of a second, I consider flipping up the bottom of my shirt and showing off my still-flat belly, but I won’t lower myself to her level. I don’t have to prove anything to her, and my pregnancy is absolutely none of her business.
“You’re lying,” she says, eyes all crazy and tightening in on me as her lips pucker.
“Audrina, it’s late,” I say. “And I’m tired. And I don’t have time for this, so just go.”
I move to the door, pulling it open and waiting, yawning.
“Still don’t believe you,” she says as she struts toward me. Stopping, her eyes fall to my stomach once more and she huffs. “You’re so fucking full of shit, and it drives me fucking crazy that I’m the only one who can see right through you.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “Goodnight, Audrina.”
“They’re going to find out,” she blurts. Or is it a promise?
“Goodnight, Audrina.”
Shutting and locking the door behind her, I press my back against the smooth wood and exhale the deep breath I’d held far too long.
Shit.
Twenty-Three
Mari
* * *
“We had sex, didn’t we?”
A man’s voice forces my heart to my stomach as I raid the Rutherfords’ fridge at two in the morning. I’ve spent the better part of the last few hours tossing and turning, my mind refusing to turn off, and if that wasn’t enough, my stomach said now was the perfect time for a late night snack.
Slamming the fridge door, I see Alec standing on the other side in nothing but low-slung sweats. His hands rest on his hips and he wears a proud smirk.
“I thought you looked familiar,” he says.
“I don’t think we should tell Hudson. Not yet.”
“Psh.” He moves past me, yanking the fridge door open and hunching over as he scans the selections. “Secret’s safe with me. I don’t want things to get weird, you know?”
“Good. Yeah. Me too,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek. “I mean, he should know eventually. But not yet.”
“Does he really even need to know at all?” Alec grabs a carton of orange juice, unscrews the cap, and takes a chug before replacing it. As well-bred and old-moneyed as Alec is, he reminds me of a free-spirited frat boy now that I’ve spent more than an hour around him. “Honestly, Mari, and this is not meant to offend you in any way, but I hardly remember that night. I was drunk out of of my mind.”
“Really? You didn’t seem drunk.”
“I can hold my liquor,” he says. “Anyway, it was just a fling. Didn’t mean anything. And now you’re marrying one of my best friends. We’re good, right?”
My jaw falls, and I want to tell him.
I want to tell him so badly.
My stomach knots with each passing second.
The time isn’t right. Not yet.
“Of course we’re good,” I say, forcing a smile.
“You should do something about that.” He points to my stomach.
“What?!” My hands cover my non-existent bump.
“Your stomach’s growling.”
“Oh.” I laugh, exhaling. “Right.”
Grabbing the milk, I move toward the pantry in search of cold cereal.
“You want some?” I offer a minute later, holding up a box of Frosted Flakes.