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I have no idea where that came from, but something clicks between us. Like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place. It makes sense. So much sense.
Pleasure rips through me as Hugh fucks me in earnest, hitting my g-spot each time he pistons into me. I can barely breathe. It’s so blinding and raw. Hugh owns every inch of my body—from the feeling of my nipples against his chest as he moves to where our mouths are crushed together, tongues dancing in an imitation of the rest of our bodies.
I know I’m about to come, the wet sound of him fucking me filling my ears, and it’s so much stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Pleasure is wound so tightly inside of me that I don’t even know how my molecules will hold together when it all snaps.
And then it does.
I scream, burying my face in Hugh’s shoulder as my climax rocks me. Waves and waves of it hit me like a storm, and I’m drowning in sensation. It’s so good, so strong, that tears leak down my face.
Hugh tenses, his thrusts going uneven, and a rumble coming from his chest. I lose track of time, washed away by my orgasm, but snap back to reality when I feel Hugh thrust hard and freeze in place as he fills me with his seed.
He curses, the tendons in his neck standing out as he comes, crushing his mouth to mine and swallowing down the last of my moans. I hold on to him, riding out our shared ecstasy, until finally, it all begins to ebb.
It’s done. I let Hugh Harvey fuck me, and it’s been the most incredible experience of my life. I hold onto him, never wanting to let go, never wanting to leave this moment in front of the fire. I feel…I feel…
I feel like I love him. Oh, God. I love Hugh, and that shakes me to my core. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them in, not wanting to ruin this moment. Instead, I let him roll to the side and pull me into his arms once more, stroking my hair and back and whispering sweet praise into my ears.
Sleep hovers over me, and I don’t fight it. Not when I feel so safe and complete here in Hugh’s embrace.
Days pass, and then a week. Two weeks, and I still haven't admitted to Hugh that I love him.
It doesn’t make much sense, really, because every other portion of my life I’ve switched around to accommodate our relationship. I sleep at his house almost every night, wrapped in his strong arms. Hugh takes me to work on the days I have a shift, at least for the first few days, and eventually just gives me the keys to his second car—a Subaru.
He tells me over and over again that I don’t need to work, but quitting is a giant step I’m still afraid to take. So instead, I drop down to part-time and look into scheduling classes for the fall to finish my business degree.
It’s all just happening so freaking fast. So why can’t I admit that I love him?
There are times that I think he may be the first to say it, but something else always comes out of his mouth instead. He compliments me all the time, praises all the ways I please him, physically and otherwise, but I never get that one little phrase that would free me from the pressure of having to say it myself.
It weighs on me. What if he doesn’t feel the same way I do? I have a hard time believing that, especially when he holds me at night after he makes me come so hard I see stars, caressing and stroking my body as he whispers the sweetest words. There’s a connection, an attraction between us, that seems to know no boundaries.
So he has to love me, right?
This morning, Hugh went to work like he does almost every morning, and I have the day off. I plan on spending it at his house, obviously, and while I miss him, the quiet is nice too.
I make coffee and walk barefoot to the front porch, still in Hugh’s shirt, and sink into one of the plush patio chairs to watch the morning sun stretch across the sky. Things have just been so utterly perfect that it doesn’t seem real.
The warmth from the cup seeps into my hands, and I can still smell Hugh’s warm scent on his shirt. Maybe today will be the day. The day I tell him I love him.
I’m still mulling the thought over when I see an unfamiliar car pulling into the driveway. I glance up at the security camera above the front door, knowing that Hugh is getting an alert right now about his visitor, but there really isn’t any reason for me to go inside and ignore it. So I wait for the person to step out of the beat-up coupe, and when I recognize the familiar shape of the man, my jaw drops open.
It’s Alex.
I stand as fast as I can, planning to go inside and lock myself in. He’s the last person in the entire universe I want to speak to right now. This is something for Hugh to handle, not me. Please not me.
But Alex stops me, calling my name and saying one of the only things that can make me stop in my tracks. “Haley! He’s lying to you!”
Despite my better judgment, I pause with my hand on the doorknob, closing my eyes and cursing under my breath. “What the heck are you talking about?” I ask, not even bothering to turn and look at him.
Alex sounds out of breath when he reaches me, but I turn around and hold up a hand, telling him without words not to come any closer. He stops at the edge of the porch, almost panting.
“Haley, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m trying to save you some heartache here,” Alex gasps. “My dad…whatever he’s telling you about some life together, he’s lying. I can prove it.”
My stomach drops. There’s no way what he’s saying is true…right? “Explain.”
Alex pulls out his phone, scrolls for a second, and then holds it out for me to take. Cautiously, I come forward and take the device from him, looking at what he’s pulled up on the screen. It’s a text conversation between Alex and Hugh—from months before I had met either of them.
Hugh: I’m going to take the job in California. You’re more than old enough to support yourself at this point, Alex.
