You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 1)

“I forgot this was here.” Hudson spoke quietly, and Rebecca moved so that she could see him.

“She was beautiful. Your mom.”

He nodded. “She was.”

When he glanced up and looked at her, a knot formed in her throat. He made no effort to hide his pain, and the sadness reflected in his eyes touched something deep inside Rebecca. She knew what it was like to lost a parent. Sure, Ben was still alive, but he’d surrendered to the bottle a long time ago. What had it been like for the Blackwell boys? She took the photo from Hudson’s hand and ran her fingers over the images. All three of the boys touched their mother in some way, and their love was evident. She was their life.

Rebecca set the photo down onto the counter and slid her hands around Hudson. He pulled her into his arms, and they embraced for what seemed like forever. She laid her head against his chest, listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart, and in that moment, she let everything go. As if a weight lifted.

She didn’t want to think about what they were doing. Or what the future held. Right now, all she wanted to do was feel. She wanted a connection. She wanted the love she saw in that photo.

“We should talk,” Hudson said quietly.

“No.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow is for talking.”

Gently, she wriggled out of his grasp, and Rebecca slid her smaller hand into his large one. She slowly led him back toward the now-robust fire, and for a few seconds, the only sound she heard was the whistling wind outside the windows, the cackling sound of the wood as it burned, and their breathing.

She looked up at Hudson. At his dark, dangerous eyes. The sensual curve of his mouth. The fast-beating pulse at his neck. His hands slid down her body until they came to rest at her hips. He lifted her, and she automatically encircled his hips with her legs and sank her hands into his hair. He hesitated, just for a second, as if considering his actions, but then, with a groan, his mouth claimed hers. It was a kiss to end all kisses. It was hungry and tender. Demanding and coy. His mouth ravaged hers as if he were starving, and when he finally broke contact, they both had to take some time.

She was trembling in his arms, her body on fire, and the throb between her legs was hard to ignore. She began to gyrate her hips, her head thrown back as his mouth slowly made its way down her throat.

Hudson gently lowered her and took a step back. His erection strained beneath his jeans, and she licked her lips, eyes on the prize, as her heart rate skyrocketed.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely.

When she met his gaze, the look in his eyes made her mouth go dry.

“I mean it. Don’t make that sound again unless you want this over before it starts.”

A slow smile curved her lips. “What sound is that?” she asked breathlessly, reaching for the top of her deep-blue sweater.

“You know the one.” His voice was rough, eyes dark as onyx, and his hands hung loosely at his sides.

“I don’t.” She pulled her sweater over her head and let it drop to the floor. “You’ll have to be more…specific.” Her tongue touched the top of her lip, and she loved how his eyes followed the movement. She felt powerful. Sexual. In total control.

Rebecca slowly tugged on her zipper and then bent over provocatively as she stepped out of her boots and then tossed the jeans beside her top. When she straightened, his hands were no longer loose but fisted, and she knew he was close to the edge.

Hudson moved toward her. “It’s like a half sigh but with a hint of whiskey.”

“Whiskey?” she asked, tilting her head so she could see him better.

“Yeah,” he murmured as he reached for her bra strap. She inhaled sharply as his knuckles grazed her bare skin. “This is a good look on you.”

“Demi bra?”

“That what this is?” His mouth drifted over where his knuckles had just been, and she stifled a groan.

“Yes,” she managed to say as he nipped her collarbone. “There was a sale and…”

“Thank God for commerce.” His hands were at the back clasp.

“I remembered you liked blue.”

“Best damn color in the world.” Her bra joined the clothes on the floor, and then his hands moved down her hips, his touch urgent as he ripped at her panties. There was a fever between them. A need to connect that fed a deep-rooted urgency.

Rebecca’s fingers worked to get him as naked as she was, and when he tossed aside his jeans, she kissed him again. A long, soul-searching kiss that made her head spin and her body shake with need. She was wet and swollen and so damn worked up, she felt like crying.

“I need you inside me,” she gasped when his mouth closed over one of her nipples. Each time he pulled and suckled, desire and need converged, shooting through her body and settling between her legs.