His name on Shaw’s lips, hoarse and undone, made his balls pull up.
Shaw gripped his hips so hard he was sure it was going to bruise. He sped up, thrusting into Hudson with a complete lack of control.
In a rush of French swear words, Shaw spilled into him, pressing his forehead between Hudson’s shoulder blades.
A second later, Hudson came too, hands free. He bit into his arm to muffle his cry—hard enough to taste blood.
The utility light buzzed overhead, their ragged breathing loud in the tiny closet.
“Fuck,” Hudson said.
Shaw’s forehead rested firmly against his back. Hudson felt him exhale, before he straightened and pulled out, leaving Hudson hollow in more ways than one.
Hudson pulled his pants up and turned around. Shaw was already buckling his belt.
When he looked up, their eyes locked.
“Why didn’t you answer my text?” Hudson said. No point in postponing the inevitable.
“I don’t know.”
“Please. Can we be real for a second?”
Leaning against the shelves behind him, Shaw stuck his hands into his pockets. “Fine. Because I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” Hudson wanted to know. Heneededto know. If this was it, if Shaw was done, he could accept that. He was almost certain he could. But Shaw had to say it to his face.
“Scared that something might happen to me out here—” He stopped. “And we would never get to say goodbye. I didn’t want to leave you with that.”
Hudson stared at him. “So you left me with nothing instead?”
“Yes.” Shaw held his gaze.
“That’s—” Hudson laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s the most Elliot Shaw thing I’ve ever heard.”
He didn’t respond.
“You could have just told me that you didn’t feel the same way.” Hudson said. “I mean, it would have sucked. But it would have been better than not knowing.”
“I know.” Shaw’s voice was rough. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Well… Glad we got that sorted.” Hudson turned to leave but Shaw grabbed his hand.
Taking a step forward, he positioned himself right in front of Hudson. They were so close that he felt Shaw’s warm breath on his cheek. Shaw didn’t let go of him. “That’s not how I feel, Hudson. You know it’s not.”
Hudson searched his eyes. “I don’t know, Elliot. You say one thing, but do?—”
Before he got to finish, Shaw’s lips were on his. Not hard and demanding like before. He kissed with so much affection, so much tenderness that Hudson felt his eyes sting. He squeezed them shut and kissed Shaw back, his tongue tentatively searching for contact.
When they parted, Hudson could have sworn Shaw’s eyes were wet too, before he blinked it away.
Shaw rested his forehead against his. “I like you, too, okay? More than I’ve liked anyone in my entire life.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ELLIOT
Three daysafter the storage room, Elliot still hadn’t figured out what to do with himself.
