Chapter Seventeen
The dressing rooms on the private shopper floor of Dylan’s Department Store were plush. Thick carpeting. Solid doors. Full-length mirrors showing off three angles. Felicia felt way out of her comfort zone the next day, and that was before she stepped into the black, floor-length jersey gown with a low-cut back covered only by a few, barely-there crisscrossed straps. Once she was in it, and wearing the borrowed heels from the shoe department so she didn’t trip over the hem, she took one last look in the mirror as she smoothed the clingy material over her hips.
“Flirt. Tease. Draw it out,” she said, repeating the mantra she’d distilled Hudson’s advice down to. “You can do this.”
World’s lamest pep talk complete, she stood as tall as possible—never discount the power of an extra inch—and tried to strut in too-tall heels out to where Hudson sat in a trio of chairs directly outside the dressing room. Instead of looking out of place in the dainty chairs, they only emphasized his size and made him look like lord of the manor. It was enough to make a girl’s knees weak and other parts of her soft and wet.
“So, what do you think?”
He looked up from his phone, and his jaw tightened.
Good sign? Bad sign? No sign? Time to add in another variable into this experiment in seduction. “I know it’s a little conservative from the front.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Conservative?”
“But then you see the back.” She turned around, which meant she couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t need to in order to feel his gaze. It burned against her skin and yet he didn’t make a move, didn’t say a word. The butterflies were rioting inside her and her nipples were pointed peaks brushing against the soft jersey of the dress. This is what he did to her without even trying. It wasn’t fair. Time to use his own logic against him. After all, he was the one who said you always want what you can’t have. “I can just imagine how Tyler’s hand will feel pressed up against the bare skin of my back as we dance.”
“I’m not sure I can,” he said, each word clipped short.
“Here,” she said, turning and strutting on wobbly ankles over to him. “Let me show you what I mean.”
Determined not to lose her courage, she jutted her chin a little higher and stood in front of him, arms held out in dance position. After a second’s hesitation, he joined her, one hand on her hip and the other holding her hand close to his chest. Oxygen became something she didn’t need anymore, which was a good thing because the moment she looked up at his handsome face set in hard, rigid lines so unlike the charmer she met or the real man she’d fallen for, she couldn’t breathe. The air crackled around them with possibilities, all she had to do was get Hudson to realize the same thing she had—that plans sometimes needed to change and that even goal-oriented to-do lists had to be updated.
She took a tiny step forward, and his hand slid across the bare expanse of her lower back, and he sucked in a hard breath and closed his eyes. If she were a more lacking observer, she’d have wondered if the twist to his lips meant he was in heaven or hell. Truth be told, she had one foot in both right now.
“Doesn’t that feel good?” And awful and not nearly enough?
He mumbled something under his breath as he feathered the tips of his fingers lower until they rested just underneath the dress. With the piped-in instrumental music to guide their steps, he pulled her closer until they touched from thigh to her cheek. There was no missing the hard length of him pressed against her belly. One step. Two steps. They moved together, saying everything without uttering a word.
He dipped his head lower. “What color, Matches?”
She didn’t have to ask of what as she tried her best not to strip him naked right here. “I don’t know that I should tell.”
His hand went lower, one finger curling around the band of her thong. “There are other ways I could find out.”
“We’re in the middle of the personal shopper level in a department store.” Which was just her damn luck.
He tugged on her lace thong, enough to make the material tight against her clit without offering any relief. “There are dressing rooms.”
“Another lesson?” she asked with a flirty smile.
Hudson’s jaw tensed, and he took a step back abruptly. “This is good for your date with Tyler, but what else did you pick out?”
Since screaming in frustration wasn’t an option for adults—though really, somedays it should be—she gave him a wink and made her way back to the dressing room. The other option Jacqui talked her into was a crystal-blue dress with satin finished sequins, a plunging V-neck, and a tight fit. It was so not a dress Felicia would have ever normally pick out, but what had she just got done telling herself? Every once in a while, you had to change your patterns and try something new.
She stared at herself in the mirror as she did the bend and twist and pretzel yourself to get the back zipper up. Once that was done, she patted her hair back in place and reminded herself that she had three objectives in this part of the experiment: flirt, tease, seduce. Hudson wasn’t going to know what hit him.
When she strolled out of the dressing room, Hudson wasn’t on his phone. Gone was the predatory gleam in his eye and the gotta-have-you-now possessiveness. Instead, he’d retreated back into being the charmer, with his relaxed smile and lazy posture.
“Wow,” he said, his voice just rough enough to give her hope.
She did a slow spin. “That’s just the reaction I’m hoping for.”
“From Tyler,” he said, his tone neutral.
Fucking A. And people said she was the one who couldn’t let go of something once she’d set her mind to it. It was enough to make her do something…the idea popped fully formed into her head. A quick glance around the showroom confirmed that Jacqui was helping an older woman whose look screamed rich-lady-who-lunches. Before she could rethink what had the potential to be a very bad life choice, unless it paid off like she was hoping.
“Can you come back to the dressing room with me?” she asked, not even bothering to sound like she didn’t have an ulterior motive. “This zipper is a killer.”
There went one corner of his mouth into a sexy half smile. “I never leave a lady in distress.”
God, she was hoping not. They walked back to the luxe dressing room as if it were totally normal for both of them to go back there. Once inside the large space, she walked closer to the mirror so he had to step inside the doorway. She lifted her hair and glanced back over her shoulder. He was going to lose a molar or two if he kept clenching his jaw so tight.
“Thanks again for this,” she said, fire sizzling along her skin the moment he reached for her.
The zipper started high between her shoulder blades and went down to the very base of her spine. He inched it down. Slow. Tormenting her with his absolute silence as he did. Watching him in the mirror was even worse than closing her eyes because she could see the hunger etched into every line on his face. It was the same look he had the first time he told her he was going to taste every inch of her, the one he had before he sank his dick into her, the same one he had when she wrapped her fingers around him and licked his swollen crown. By the time he got the dress unzipped in the here and now, her thong was soaked.
He traced a finger across the upper swell of her ass, setting off a riot of sensations that made her core clench. “Black lace,” he said with a strained groan.
“They’re new.” Her breath caught when his finger tip glided down the center piece that slipped between her ass cheeks. “You’ve gotta see the matching bra.”
It took only a little shimmy for the dress to slide down her arms and over her hips to puddle around her heels. The whole time she watched him in the mirror. His gaze traveled down the reflection of her body as his hands stayed locked in place, one at her hip and the other curled around her thong. She took the hand at her hip and lifted it to her breast, leaning back against him as he pinched her hard nipple through the lace of her bra and rolled it to an even stiffer peak. It was so fucking hot to be here in the dressing room in her underwear and heels watching as Hudson, still fully dressed, toyed with her body with deliberate, controlling motions. His hard cock pressed against her back. At that moment, all she wanted in the world was to sink down to her knees and suck him deep into her mouth.
“I’m thinking,” she said, turning in his arms. “I really need a lesson in hot dressing room sex.”
God did she ever. She was on the verge of coming and he’d barely touched her.
“Matches.” His tugged her nipple with just the right amount of force to almost make her knees buckle with pleasure. “I don’t think there’s anything left for me to teach you.” Then, he let go of her as if she was covered in radiation and stepped back, stopping just on the other side of the open dressing room door. “Whichever dress you pick, make sure to have Jacqui put it on my account.”
Embarrassment slammed into her. Nothing to teach her? Had she been wrong about him wanting her? No, she couldn’t be, not with the way his body was responding to hers. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Think of it as your graduation gift,” he said, a lazy, easy camaraderie in his voice. “Have fun with Tyler.”
He left without saying anything else, never even looking back. Felicia stared after him, her gut churning. What the fuck? Had she read that all wrong? She’d done everything he’d taught her. She’d seduced. She’d stoked his jealousy. She’d flirted and tempted and all but begged for him to want her. Her throat tightened. Her eureka moment at the cocktail party may have been true for her, but obviously not for Hudson. Why else would he walk away unless it had all been just a My Fair Lady game to him? What had he told Tyler? She’s not really my type. She’d convinced herself that he hadn’t really meant it…but he had. She done it to herself again, tried to shoehorn a hope into a reality and failed miserably. Hudson may have thought he’d taught her a lot, but what she really learned was that maybe the ants had it right. Maybe the males of the species should die after sex. It sure would lead to less heartbreak for idiots like herself.
…
Walking away from Felicia had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but Hudson knew it was the only way. She wanted Tyler. She couldn’t have been more open about it. He had just been a little bit of fun before things got serious between her and Captain Clueless. If she’d been any other woman, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. He would have just figured it was no-strings-attached orgasms between friends. Nothing wrong with that. But that wasn’t what it was anymore. At least not for him. And he had to see her tonight with Tyler The Idiot.
Skipping out on the event wasn’t an option, and there was no way he’d make it through the night without cold-cocking the douchebag without backup. He walked out onto the busy Harbor City street and called the person who always had his back. Everly picked it up on the first ring.
“I need a solid,” he said without preamble.
“You have more money for bail than I do.”
He laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. “Very funny.”
“I’m a fucking riot,” Everly said without a hint of humor in her husky alto. “That’s what everyone says about me.”
No. What everyone who’d ever met Everly Ribinski said about her was that she was phenomenally gorgeous and hell on stilettos. Funny? Not so much.
“I need a date,” he said, turning the corner and scanning traffic for a cab to hail.
“You’re Hudson Carlyle,” she scoffed. “You never need a date.”
No cabs. No date. No Felicia. His day had started out crappy and ended up whatever was described beyond totally shitty. He was an artist not a word guy. “I do this time.”
Everly let out a low whistle. “This sounds like end of the world stuff.”
“Are you in or what?”
“Settle down.” He could practically see her roll her eyes as she stood in her gallery wearing head-to-toe black. “Of course I’m in. Where are we going?”
“The Dixon Library masked ball fundraiser.” He pushed the words out in a rush, knowing it was very much not her kind of event.
“Jesus,” she groaned. “You realize this will test the very farthest boundaries of our friendship.”
“You’ll stand beside me making snarky comments about all the rich assholes who probably have shitty taste in art, and I’ll smile and be charming.”
“Sounds like just my kind of disaster. Text me the details later.”
Relief soothed some of the burn in his gut. “Thanks, Everly. I owe you.”
He pocketed his phone and turned on Powers Street. There were always cabs out here, and he needed to get as far away from Dylan’s as fast as he could. If it wasn’t for the fact that his dick was in love with Felicia—and he’d actually thought when given the choice she’d choose him—he would have offered to hook her up with his mom’s salon for the big night. The Dixon event always brought out the press and was about as close to a Cinderella type ball as Harbor City had. Shit. He couldn’t do that to Felicia. This was her big night, even if it was with Sir Head Up His Ass. He took out his phone and hit the first number in his contacts.
“Mom, I need a favor.”
…
How in the world Felicia had ended up at Helene Carlyle’s hair salon with the grand dame of Harbor City society sipping Earl Gray from a china cup was still a bit of a mystery—and she’d lived it. All she knew was that Jacqui stopped her before she could leave Dylan’s in a huff and told her that Mrs. Carlyle’s car was waiting for her and that Helene herself was on her way up. There were probably less formidable women in the world, but she hadn’t met one. And that’s how she’d ended up at the salon with a man making horrified expressions while examining her hair as Helene gave her what she could only assume was the rich person version of the third degree.
“It really is so nice of you to help Hudson out in his efforts to get Sawyer and Tyler to stop their silly feud,” Helene said.
“I don’t know that I’ve really done anything,” Felicia said, eyeballing the stylist in the mirror as he took out his scissors. “Just a trim, please.”
He gave her that smile every woman who’s ever been ignored at the salon knows all too well. “But of course.” And he snipped off three inches. “Just removing the split ends.”
What the—
She opened her mouth to confront the stylist whose scissors were whizzing through her hair, but Helene spoke first.
“Well whatever help you gave, he sure seems taken with you.”
“Hudson?” Not likely.
“Not Hudson,” Helene said with a shake of her perfectly coiffed head. “Tyler.”
“Of course.” Because you were just a project for Hudson. None of the past few weeks meant anything.
“He couldn’t take his eyes off you at the cocktail party,” Helene went on. “He’s quite the catch, that one.”
“Yes. He is.” One her fifteen-year-old self had imprinted on with all the devotion of an obsessed teenager. And it had stuck with her for all these years until she realized it wasn’t Tyler she’d been in love with, but her idea of him. Reality sucked that way.
“And after Charles gets done with your hair, Tyler won’t be able to see any other woman at the fundraiser.”
“That’s the plan.” Or at least it had been. Her shoulders sank. As it stood now, she didn’t know what in the hell she was doing or why she was even still going.
Sure you do. You know Hudson will be there, and you just need to see him one last time when you aren’t in your underwear and making a failed play for him. Pride. She needed to see him one last time to salvage her pride, that was all.
“It’s a brilliant one,” the other woman said before taking another sip of her tea. “Who’d have ever thought that Hudson would have a secret talent as a matchmaker?”
“He’s got a lot of talents.” Ugh. Stop defending him.
“Yes, he does.” Helene cocked her head to the side and gave her an assessing look that reminded Felicia of Hudson’s expression when he was sketching her. “I just wish he’d be a little more open about them, but that’s neither here nor there because now it’s time for you to make Tyler realize all he’s been missing. Plus, it’ll practically be a double date. Hudson is bringing Everly.”
The mysterious Everly. She was probably tall and smart and funny and beautiful and perfect for Hudson in every way. Felicia wanted to throw up.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” she said through gritted teeth.
“You’ll adore her,” Helene said, a knowing smile curling her lips. “Everyone does.”
Felicia just bet they did. And if she was going to have to meet the perfect Everly after making a complete fool of herself with Hudson, well, she was going to do it looking her best and have a fabulous time with Tyler while she did. If it was the hardest thing she ever did, she’d make sure Hudson never realized that what had been between them had meant something to her.