Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance (63 page)

“You know-” Chet looks around before he leans close, “Can we talk somewhere a bit more private?”

I don’t even know what to say as he’s suddenly leading me to the side of the large ballroom and down a darkened hallway away from the crowds and music.

“Chet where are we goin-”

“Ray, baby, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry you had to find out about that; before I mean, about me and that staffer.”

I stare at him incredulously; “Wait,
that’s
your apology?” I almost want to laugh at how
insanely
cliche this guy is; “You’re sorry that I
found out
? Not that you were fucking one of your interns like some sort of politician cliche out of a movie-script?”

Chet smiles and nods his head patronizingly at me; “Now, let’s not be crude, Reagan. You know these sort of relationships sometimes just
happen
in politics.”

I roll my eyes; “No, Chet, I don’t know that.” But I’m also done having this conversation, and I just shake my head; “You know what, fine; apology accepted.” I turn to leave, when I feel his hand grab my arm, tightly.

“Oh I’m
so
glad, Reagan.” He’s grinning that smarmy smile at me again, and I’m suddenly on edge; “I think we’re going to have a lot more luck the second time, I can feel it.” And then before I know what’s happening, he’s yanking me towards him and trying to kiss me.

I sputter and push away from him; “Chet!” I can feel my pulse racing, roaring in my ears like an engine as the adrenaline spikes; “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He’s still holding my arm, and he chuckles; “Oh, com’on babe, don’t tell me you haven’t missed a little of the ole’ Chet magic.” I open my mouth to say something but he just keeps going; “You remember, Reagan, just like the old times huh?” He’s pressing me back against the wall behind me, and I’m feeling every inch of my skin crawl as my throat freezes up. He leans close, running his hand up the front of my dress and making me cringe in revulsion; “You look so
tense
, bab-”

In the blink of an eye, his arm is suddenly getting
wrenched
away from me and behind his back. There’s a snapping sound, and he’s screaming. Hudson -
Hudson
- snarls like fucking wild animal as he brings his fist crashing down across Chet’s face, sending blood splattering from his nose as he cries out and drops to his knees on the ground. He’s holding his face and staring up at the utterly
ferocious
looking Hudson, and he’s screeching as Hudson’s fist crashes into his face again.

And then I’m yelling - screaming even - and suddenly there’s the sounds of running footsteps as security comes thundering around the corner. Hudson snarls as two of them grab his arms; "Not
me
, you fucking idiots," He spits out, nodding towards the sniveling Congressmen on the ground cradling his limp arm as the blood pours down his face. I can barely nod as they look at me for verification, feeling as though I’m moving in slow motion as Hudson shakes them free and jerks his head around to stare at me.

“Are you ok?”

“I- I-” I’m stammering, my mouth opening and closing without words.

“
Reagan.
” 

Hudson’s voice is sharp, and I jerk my head to stare at him; “
What?
”

“Are you
hurt
.”

I shake my head quietly; “No.”

“Then lets go,
now
.”

It’s not until we’re outside that the shock really hits me, and suddenly I find myself
angry
, and I’m angry at Hudson for some reason. I’m angry that I needed
rescuing
; that somehow I
need
him at all. We’re right by his car when I shake my hand out of his and stop suddenly in my tracks. Hudson turns to me and I suddenly snap; “I don’t need
rescuing
you know.”

He frowns; “Could’ve fooled me, Princess.”

I narrow my eyes at him; “I mean
in general
, I don’t need you
saving
me or anything. I mean
I’m
the normal one here, Hudson;
you’re
the one with all the baggage that needs rescuing.”

He looks at me coolly as he steps closer to me; “Is that a fact? You think
I
need rescuing?”

I purse my lips and frown, crossing my arms over my chest; “Mhmm.” And then he’s right in front of me, and I can feel my own body betray me at his proximity; my pulse starting to race and my breath coming quicker. 

“You know,” he growls, smirking that smug smile as he leans so close to my face that our lips are almost touching; “We’d probably get along better if you’d just stop pretending you don’t want me.”

“You’re fucking delusional, I don’t
want you
at all,” I sneer at him, knowing how totally unconvincing that sounds and feeling more like I’m trying to convince myself than him.

“Oh, so it’s
Chet
you want in there? Is that it?” 

“Shut up, you don’t know what I want, Hudson.” His eyes flash at me, and he’s so close to me that I could just
breath
and kiss him.

“Yes, I do.” He growls lowly, his eyes flashing at me, and I gasp as he takes my hand and places it against the front of his pants. He’s rock hard inside, and I can feel my own body throb with desire as I feel how aroused he is for me. And I know he’s right, too; I know he sees right through my bullshit and little bratty outburst and sees
exactly
what I want.

The side door to the museum slams open and Donald comes huffing out, looking furious and red in the face as he starts to scream something at Hudson.

“Get in the fucking car, Archer.” He whispers into my ear, sending a shiver right through me and making me tingle somewhere deep inside.

“
Fine
” I spit out, as if I’m
letting
him take me away, even though its the only thing in the world I want in that moment.

Chapter Twenty-One

P A S T

I duck and weave, dancing back to try and avoid Logan's hook, but I of course catch it in the side anyways. I can feel the sweat stinging my eyes, and my shoulder’s throbbing in that way that I know I should give it a rest, but I know I won’t. I also know that Logan's going to beat me like he does
every
time we box like this, but that doesn’t stop me from putting up a fight anyways. That’s pretty much the first thing he taught after showing me how to lace up the gloves;
always
put up a fight.

I swing wildly, feeling fatigued to the point of sloppiness as I swing through air where his face used to be. He’s grinning at me, looking like he’s barely out of breath as he skips away before ducking back in to land another hit against my jaw.

“You wanna yield?” He’s taunting me, and we both know it. We also both know these little bouts of ours only end when I can’t physically lift my arm anymore or when I hit the ground too many times.

“Getting tired,
old man
?” I grin at him, knowing this gets
right
under his skin; “I mean thirty’s creeping up there buddy, I can let you go take a breather if you wan-” I see fucking
stars
as his glove catches me right above the left eye, and then the world is spinning as I land on my back on the floor of the ring.

Bryce taps the bell, shaking his head as I turn to shake my head at him; “Nope, fuck off Hudson, I’m calling it.”

“Aww com’on man! I had him!” 

Logan snorts as he bends down to give me a hand up; “Oh, definitely, Hud. Closest one yet.”

“Dick.”

He grins at me; “Hey, someday you might even land a punch on me, which’ll be the surprise of the century.”

I’m swatting at him with my glove when Bryce swears under his breath; “I got one better for you.”

I glance over at him, hunched over his laptop screen with his jaw hanging open and furrow my brow; “What?” He’s slowly shaking  his head, his eyes skimming whatever he’s reading. “Dude, what?”

Bryce raises his head to look at us with a crooked grin on his face; “Reagan Archer just announced her candidacy for New York State Senate.”

Well, huh.

P R E S E N T

“Where the fuck are we going?”

I grit my teeth and try to stop myself from saying anything; from telling her she’s being a brat, from telling her I’m sick of this bullshit - hell, from telling her all the shit I’m dying to tell her if I could only figure out
how
.

“Hudson!” She’s yelling now; “You can’t just fucking
kidnap
me you know. Aren’t you Mr. ‘Low-Profile’? I’m pretty sure kidnapping Legislative candidates gets you
high
-profile faster than you can-“

“
Will you
shut up?” I finally bark at her, my hands gripping the wheel tight as we screech around a corner, narrowly missing some idiot hipster out riding a fixie bicycle in the fucking snow.

“We’re going to my place.”

She frowns; “
Why
, you’ve never taken me to your place bef-“

“Because it’s safe there, that’s why.” I turn and stare at her, our eyes meeting with a sort of burning spark that keeps me looking at her for
far
longer than I should considering I’m driving a damn car. I tear my gaze away and accelerate around a taxi.

“Is it?” She says quietly, and when I turn back this time, her look is hungrier; more naked.

I turn back to the road, and without warning I slide my hand up high on her thigh. I can hear her breath catch, and feel the thrum of her pulse hot under her skin.

“Don’t you dare think you’re going to-”

Her words end in a gasp as I slide my hand right up under her dress to the heated and damp fabric of her panties and I grin; “Ahh, yeah, you don’t want me at all, right?”

She bites her lip and shakes her; “Mm-mm, nope; not at all.”

I gun the engine, letting the horses fucking rip under the hood as I stroke my finger up over her panties; tracing her sex through the wet material and relishing in the quiet moan she valiantly tries but ultimately fails to swallow. We’re speeding through streets now, the engine roaring as I dodge cars and blow through lights. My finger slides beneath the side of her panties and strokes her lips, and she rocks her hips towards me.

“Still sure you don’t want me?”

“
Definitely
,” she gasps, her breathing comes ragged as I stroke my finger through her wetness and roll my thumb over her clit. She drops her head back and willing spreads her legs wider, and I know I’ve got her close as I roar around another corner.

“Oh, well that’s good then, because we’re here.”

I screech the car to a purr in front of my building and withdraw my fingers from her panties. She whirls to stare at me, and the look she gives me as her jaw drops is pure, undiluted frustration, and I
love it
.

“Better cover up, Senator,” I say with a shit-eating grin as I nod towards the approaching valet. Reagan scrambles to pull her skirt back down, shooting daggers at me as I chuckle and step out of the car. I toss the keys to Richard, the valet, outside my building and usher the fuming Reagan through the front door. The brusqueness is to minimize the exposure to possible photographers who might see where she’s headed, but also because I’ve got this
insane
need to be alone with her as quickly as fucking possible. I hurry us across the glossy marble floor of my lobby and yank her into one of the ultra-modern glass and metal elevators. Reagan’s skirt is riding high on her thigh, and as the doors close, she starts to smooth the material down.

“Stop it.”

She pauses, and looks at me sharply; “Excuse me?”

“I said leave it. Don’t smooth it down.”

“You can’t just
order
me around like some sort of Lord of a castle you know,” She says tightly. But she blushes, and she doesn’t pull on the skirt anymore.

The doors close, and it’s like the final stroke; the final straw on the back. They’ve barely shut before I’ve turned and pushed her up against the glass wall of the elevator, my lips devouring hers as she moans into mine. The elevator begins to rise out of the bank, and as it does so, the view behind the glass surrounding us changes to the bright lights of the city. I grab her wrists and shove them against the wall, growling into her as I move my lips to nip at her earlobe.