Page 80 of Paper Horses

“Take the clothes off, Olivia.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Because I need a shower, and you’re going to join me. Besides,” he wedged his finger in my collar and tugged me closer, “you’re showing too much skin, and I don’t want to end up in a bar fight when other men look at you.”

“That’s possessive red-flag talk, Hudson.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips over my ear. “When it comes to you, my flags are blood red. Now, run, Olivia.”

A tremble went through me as my breath hitched. “Run?” I squeaked.

“Run, because if I catch you, I’m going to hoist you over my shoulder and toss you into the shower with me. I’m sure these are dry clean only, and you’d have a conniption if I got them wet, so you’d better start running.”

I stared at him, my pulse thundering, excitement broiling in my belly.

“I’ll give you a head start, honey.”

And now my belly was so knotted with anticipation that I could barely think.

“One.”

“Damn it,” I grumbled.

“Two.”

I ran, skidding toward the stairs and grabbing the banister just before I tumbled. By the time I reached the top step, he was on ten, and I could hear his heavy steps coming after me. I tossed my shirt off and was pulling the zipper of my skirt down when he caught me, flung me over his shoulder and took me so hard as the shower water hit us that I didn’t give another thought to the condition of my skirt.

“What are you doing in there, woman? We’re going to be late.”

I turned in the mirror again, still not recognizing myself. “I need a few more minutes.” I called through the bedroom door.

Hudson huffed, and I heard him grumble that he’d be outside before his footsteps faded down the stairs. I pushed a strand of my hair back, a sudden fight-or-flight sensation storming me and telling me to flee. To return to my designer clothes and icy attitude, to lock myself away in the room and not come out until it was time to leave. But that would mean no more Hudson. No more of his touches, his growling words, his brooding sexiness, his kisses that branded my soul.

I looked down at my legs. Jeans. My father had never allowed me to wear them. A girl wore dresses. Frilly, expensive dresses with patent leather shoes and stockings. Hair perfect, manners on point. An example of prestige.

Standing in front of the long mirror in the guest room corner, I blew a strand of hair from my eyes. I’d insisted on leaving my clothes in the room even though I’d been sleeping with Hudson each night in his. Somehow moving my clothes to his room seemed like a step closer to facing the fact that we were serious and ignoring the one that guaranteed I was leaving in a few days. The looming shadow that threatened to destroy us. I stepped closer to the mirror, staring at myself.

Could I live this life? Give up the city, the world I’d known for so long, the convenience, the shopping, the decadence. I ran my hand over the satin fabric of the shirt, admiring the cut, the way it pushed my breasts up so they looked perky, the flashes of skin on my stomach that showed. The kind of shirt I would never wear, but Hudson wanted to see me in. And maybe I wanted him to see me in it. To not worry about the price of my clothes or what people thought of me.

I turned back to the bed, rummaging through the clothes until I found the necklace he had picked out. The black leather cord was softer than I remembered as I wrapped it around my neck, leaving the turquoise stone dangling between my breasts. If he was concerned about the amount of cleavage my blouse had shown, this shirt was bound to make him feral.

Looking back in the mirror, I snagged my phone from my bed and posed in front of the mirror. I snapped a selfie and sent it to Gabe with a quick note about how much I was going to make him pay when I returned home.

His laughing emoji came through first, followed by a quick,

Gabe: You look good as a cowgirl. Tori wants to know if those are cat socks you’re wearing, and Reid wants to know if Hudson has a cowboy hat.

I laughed, my chest surprisingly light.

Liv: Yes, and yes. Tell Tori I’ll bring her some.

A text from Hudson flashed on my screen.

Woman

Blunt and enough to let me know he was tired of waiting on me.

Don’t be rude, I texted back before I told Gabe I’d talk to him later.