After my mini-tantrum in the limo, it didn’t seem like such a good time to bring up his relationship with Stacy, if it even qualified to be called that. But I made a mental note to ask about it in the future. And not just about Stacy, but about all of Hudson’s past women. Because I needed to know.
As she had said, Stacy had left several dresses in the dressing room, and despite my fear that she’d spitefully only pick hideous items for me to try on, they most definitely were anything but. Not that Mirabelle’s even had anything remotely ugly on its racks. These dresses, though, were particularly exquisite. With all her scowling about, Stacy must have paid attention to what I chose the last time I’d been there, noticed what looked good on me, because these seemed almost tailor-made to my style. My eyes widened at the selection, too many called my name, and I was eager to try them all on.
Hudson, on the other hand, immediately fixated on one specific dress—a magenta satin Jersey. It was pretty enough, but awfully simple and brighter in color than something I’d wear at a family function.
He fingered the convertible straps. “This one.” There was finality in his voice.
“I haven’t tried it on. You don’t even know how it—”
“I do know.” He took the dress by the hanger and, after turning me to face the mirror, held it in front of me as he stood behind. “It’s perfect.”
I looked in the mirror, trying to picture the dress on my body, but all I could think of was the last time I’d been in that dressing room with Hudson, standing in front of that very mirror. He’d done incredible things to my body then, made me watch as I came undone from the ministrations of his hands on my br**sts and between my thighs. Then, he’d entered me and took me with such force and desire that I’d come undone again.
My face heated from the memory, and I met his eyes in our reflection.
Hudson leaned into whisper at my ear. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop it.” He unbuttoned his jacket and pressed up against me so I could feel the thick ridge of his hard-on against my rear. “I’m thinking about it, too. And we don’t have time to deal with those thoughts as I would like.”
“Are you sure?” I reached my hand behind me to fondle his erection.
He took a deep breath. “You’re certainly a different woman than the one I brought in here last time. The one who wanted to keep things sex-free.” His voice was tight, the only indication of what my half-assed hand-job was doing to him.
“I never wanted to keep things sex-free. I just thought it would be best for me if we did.” That was back when I thought for half a second that I had a chance of staying away from him. When I thought I might become obsessed with him if I didn’t keep my distance. When I didn’t realize how complete of a hold he already had on me.
He placed his hand over mine, controlling the pressure of my touch. “Is that still what would be best for you?”
Together, we stroked the length of his c**k through his pants, and I longed to touch his bare skin, to slide my fingers across his crown, to pump him with my fist. He did this to me, completely turned me on, made me wet and interested in nothing but satisfying his need for me while he satisfied my need for him.
“You’re best for me.” My words were full of the ache I felt for him. “In every way—beside me, inside me…”
“Fuck, Alayna. You get me so hot, I—”
There was a single rap at the door followed by barely enough time for us to separate before Stacy walked in.
Her eyes flitted from my face to his then back to mine. “I should have waited for an invitation to come in.”
“Yes, you should have.” It was the first time I’d seen Hudson address Stacy in any way, and it was short and clipped. He turned to hang the dress back on the rack and buttoned his suit jacket before turning back to us. “I’ll step out while you change, Alayna.” He nodded back to the magenta dress. “That one.”
Stacy’s face was even, but her eyes flickered with the rejection. I almost felt sorry for her. I’d been her—dejected by men I thought I was into. Part of me wanted to reach out to comfort her.
But then the spite returned to her gaze. “Is that the dress you’d like to start with?” Her voice was cold as she took the magenta Jersey from the hanger without waiting for my response.
I reached behind and unzipped my clothing myself and let it fall to the floor. “Yes. It’s the one Hudson wants.” I used his name as a weapon, claiming him as mine. “He thinks it will be perfect.”
Actually, it was. I could tell as soon as the dress was over my head. The color lit up my skin, highlighting my natural olive tone. It was low-cut enough that it showed off my boobs, an asset I was proud of. Hudson had always been quite fond of my bosom, surely one of the reasons he’d chosen it. The length was short enough to show some leg, but the flowing shape would only hint at my curves rather than hug them like many of my dresses did, leaving more to the imagination. It was a different style for me and that might have been what had prevented me from the same vision Hudson had. But he knew my body well, better than I did.
“He’s right. It’s perfect for you.” I’d been so mesmerized by my reflection, Stacy’s voice startled me.
I turned to her and found her expression had softened. It occurred to me that she was comparing herself to me as much as I compared myself to Celia, that she was measuring her flaws against mine. It was enough to send a person into dark depression. At least, that’s what that kind of thinking could do to me. Again, I felt sorry for her. Or maybe it wasn’t pity, it was something else—solidarity, maybe.
Stacy reached up to adjust a strap. “He has good taste.”
Her tone suggested she wasn’t talking about the dress. It hinted at more. The connection I felt with her, odd though it may be, led me to prod. “But…?”
Her forehead creased. “But what?”
“I sense there was more to your statement.”
She looked away, busying herself with adjusting the breast cups of the dress. “It’s not my place.”
“Go ahead. Whatever you have to say, I can take it.” Did I sound too eager? What I was hoping to gain from the conversation, I couldn’t say. Maybe I was simply curious.
That was a lie. I was obsessed. No matter how “well” I was, no matter how healthy, I’d always be drawn to dig deeper, to find out as much as I could about the people I was attracted to. This was no different. Stacy had something to say regarding Hudson—something that might give me insight into the man I loved. I had to keep digging.