Everly After Read Online Free Page B

anyway.
    He curls his fingers over my wrist and tugs hard. The air is suddenly too heavy to breathe and gets stuck in my throat. His perfect face is close to mine, his dark eyes pulling me in until I’m drowning, dizzy with anticipation.
    “You don’t have to prove—”
    His lips crash over mine, as if kissing me will convince me more than his pointless words can. I won’t believe him. A girl is the biggest idiot in the world if she believes Hudson. That much I know is true.
    “Stop pretending,” I say, pushing him away to catch my breath. I smile against his mouth as his body changes, melting into the Hudson I do know. My body remembers this touch well. For all our history, good and bad, I’ve never been able to erase it. He branded me, as first loves often do. If you could consider what we shared love.
    “Am I a bad liar?” He kisses my neck, then switches to the other side, nibbling my skin with his teeth and then swiping the pain away with his tongue.
    “The worst kind,” I whisper. I arch under his caress, his fingers running down my side to grip my waist.
    One hand continues lower, and he strokes my inner thigh, creeping higher until he’s underneath my sequined shorts. “Are you going to forgive me, Ev?” When I don’t answer, he pushes his palm against me. “I’m about to be very bad.”
    I rock against his hand, lost to the way my body wakes up, full of heat and awareness. It feels like I’m alive again, that girl in the sun. Not the one who’s been mindlessly waiting tables in Paris to survive.
    I shove my hands into his chest until he falls back against the couch. I loosen his tie the rest of the way and shake my head at his arched brow. I toss it to the floor. I don’t want to play that game today.
    He doesn’t say anything, only watches me, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips. I unbutton his shirt, then lean down and kiss his chest. I trail my fingers lower until my hand cups him through his pants. His stare is burning me.
    As fast as everything started, I break it off and stand. I strip off my silky halter and pad over to my bedroom, unzipping my shorts and letting them glide down my legs. I glance over my shoulder in time to catch him stalking closer.
    This time, I want to be caught. I want him to consume me and make me forget. I want to be burned in the fire because there’s nothing left of me, anyway.
    He hooks his finger beneath my lacy boy shorts and tugs down so they slip past my hip. I let my arms go slack, fighting the urge to throw them around his neck when he pulls again, and my panties pool around my feet.
    “I’m going to ask one more time,” he growls, licking my lower lip. He runs his index finger down the side of my face, the line of my neck, before his fingers rest at the base of my throat over my pulse. My skin is raw, throbbing from his bite marks. “Why are you in Paris?”
    I give in and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my naked body against his suit. I want to feel things again, good things. “I want to pretend, too.”
    Hudson grabs my waist and lifts me up into the air, shoving me hard against the doorjamb. I slide down until my waist lines up with his, and my legs wrap around him, unrelenting.
    I want fire. I want to face the lion and not have him destroy me, to find out if such a fate is even possible. An heiress can’t hide forever, but I’m going to try.
    “Maybe I can change your mind,” he hisses into my ear. He skips the bed and sets me on my rickety dresser instead, swatting away the collected party cups.
    “You can try, Hudson.”
    One hand paws at my breast, his other squeezes my hip until his grip is painful enough to leave a bruise.
    He might too. A mark deeper than just a superficial imprint. But I’m waiting for more to happen beyond me sticking to a crappy piece of furniture. I’m waiting for my heart to race, for my skin to warm, for my body to tingle.
    But all I feel is the pleasant ache of someone getting me off and more of