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Taking a right, I drive toward the parking garage, stopping to flash my badge by the small gate. Within seconds, it opens, and we’re parking in a damn near empty lot.
“Are we at your work?” she asks, itching to get any information out of me because the girl hates surprises.
I push the door open, but I look at her before getting out. “Trust me, Dove. Okay?”
She stares at me for a moment before throwing her head back against the headrest. “Calling me Dove and that face? It should be illegal.” Sitting back up, she narrows her eyes, pointing her finger toward my face. “It’s annoying—the way you look and how you say that stupid four-letter word.”
“What word?” I play dumb, raising an eyebrow.
“Not going to say it. But it has wings, it likes to flap, and it’s known to look for crumbs and shit on people in the park.”
“That would be a pigeon,” I deadpan. “And I’m not that good at spelling, but that’d be six letters.”
“They are literally the same thing—dove and pigeon. There is no difference besides color and size,” she tosses back. “And when you call me that, it makes my brain turn to mush. And suddenly, I’m that girl.”
“What girl is that?” I ask, jerking my chin up.
“The one who goes all doe-eyed and whose insides turn into an undercooked chocolate chip cookie!” she groans. “I want to be a badass. Not a ball of cookie dough!”
“Sweetheart, I promise you, you are the most badass woman I’ve ever met.” I wink before stepping out of my truck and closing the door.
Heading to her side, I reach my hand up to open the door, but she pushes it open before I can.
“You shouldn’t be pulling on my door, Mr. Hale.” She jumps down, looking at me. “You are still recovering. The doctor said nothing strenuous right now.”
“It’s a door,” I say evenly, knowing damn well I’m healed enough to do whatever the hell I want now. And knowing, in a matter of minutes, I’ll be doing something a lot more strenuous than opening a door when I’m balls deep inside of her. “I think I can handle a door.”
“If you say so,” she singsongs, walking beside me.
Heading toward the parking garage doors that go into the huge brick building, I press my hand to the small of her back and lead her into the building where my office is located.
A few people are here, but it’s fairly quiet compared to normal, making it the perfect time to bring Briar here for one reason alone.
The picture she drew of me fucking her on that desk? I’m going to make it a reality. Well, sort of. Only now, it’s my desk. Not fuckstick Enzo’s.
After he shows me around the large place where he works out of, we head up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. Stopping at one of the doors, he turns the handle and pushes it open.
“This is me. After you,” he says softly, and I stroll past him, looking around.
There’s nothing here that would give me any indication it’s his. No pictures. Nothing. And when I hear the door closing and locking, I turn and see Hudson watching me. The look in his eyes is similar to the first night we crossed that line. When he told me to touch myself in front of him … and I did. And then he ended up covering my ring with his cum, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
He’s kept that predatory look hidden since before he was forced to leave Italy. It was almost as if he was scared to show it to me because he thought Enzo was already putting me through enough of that. But when Hudson looks at me like that … every part of my body warms. And between my legs tingles and my heart skips a damn beat.
Suddenly, it’s really hot in here.
Pulling the blinds on the huge windows that look out at the hallway, he wastes no time bringing his eyes back to mine. “I told you I was going to make that drawing come true. And when it comes to you, Dove, I want to be a man of my word.”
Slowly, I lean my ass against his desk, pulling in a breath. “R-really?” I whisper. “Here?”
Swiftly, he takes a few strides toward me, and he’s all up in my space. “Fuck yes, here. Because this is my desk. Not that fucking coward’s. And he didn’t deserve to have this sweet, perfect pussy dripping on a surface that belonged to him.” Gripping my chin, he leans in, kissing me roughly. “It might not be exactly like the drawing, Dove. But I promise, I’ll let you ride my cock just the same.”
My knees feel weak, but then I remember … he’s still recovering. “Hudson,” I hiss. “You—we can’t do that! You’re healing. Do you not remember what the doctor told you?”
When he leans forward, I feel his erection brush against me, and it becomes unbearably difficult not to drop to my knees and pleasure him the way I’ve thought about for so long. Since the night he left, I haven’t gotten to touch him like that. And to avoid the risk of jumping his bones since we’ve been back, knowing he’s not supposed to do anything strenuous, specifically sex, per the doctor’s orders, I’ve made sure not to kiss him too long. Or do anything else that would make me want him more.
“Sweetheart, you know how I told you I was running errands this morning?” he rumbles lightly. “I was actually at the doctor, getting a checkup.”
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” I grit my teeth together as my jaw tenses. “You know I don’t like secrets!”
