He starts to walk away again, and this time I scramble until I can get in front of him and block his path.

“Let me go,” he says, and his blue eyes aren’t calm anymore. They’re livid with more emotions than I could ever hope to count.

“Why?” I whisper. “So you can go off and build an even bigger wall between us?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to do something we both regret.”

He won’t, though. No matter how mad or hurt he is, Hudson would never do anything I didn’t want him to do. Anything I didn’t give him permission to do.

But we’re stuck, and I can’t unstick us. With all that I’ve lost this year, my defenses are too high. I can’t let anyone walk into my heart again—they’re going to have to crash in. Maybe that’s why Hudson and I have always been more comfortable sparring than speaking. It’s like we each recognize how high our walls are and what it will take to eventually tear them down to let the other in. And so I do the only thing I can do—I push him over the edge.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, and it’s as much dare as it is question. “And what if I want you to? What would you even do?”

I get one moment—one moment—to see all that emotion jump the chain he holds it on. And then he’s moving toward me, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. “This,” he snarls, right before he slams his mouth down on mine.

66

It Turns Out Diamonds

Might Be a Girl’s Best

Friend After All

The world, quite literally, implodes.

There’s no other way to describe it. No way to pretty it up. No way to downplay it. No way to say it other than this: the moment Hudson’s mouth covers mine, everything around us simply ceases to exist.

There’s no cold, no sun, no messy past, no uncertain future. For this one perfect moment, there’s nothing but the two of us and the inferno raging between us.

Hot.

Overwhelming.

All-encompassing.

It threatens to burn me to a crisp, threatens to swallow us whole. Normally, feeling this much would terrify me, but right now, all I can think is bring. It. On.

And Hudson brings it. Oh my God, does he bring it.

His lips are warm and firm against mine, his body lean and strong. And his kisses, his kisses are everything I’ve ever thought they would be…and so much more.

Soft and lingering.

Fast and hard.

Featherlight and all-consuming.

They send flames racing down my spine, burning through my body. They melt me from the inside, turn my blood to lava and my knees to ashes and still it’s not enough.

Still I want more.

I press myself up against him, tangle my fingers in his hair, and when he gasps for breath—starts to pull his mouth from mine—I yank him right back into the fire.

And then it’s my turn to gasp, my turn to burn, as he fists his hands in my curls and scrapes a fang across my lower lip.

He takes instant advantage, licking and stroking, sucking and biting his way inside my mouth. I open for him—of course I do—reveling in the way his arms tighten around me, the way his body presses against me, the way his tongue strokes oh so gently against my own.

This feels good—he feels good—in a way I wasn’t expecting but that now I can’t get enough of.

I’m desperate. Determined. Punch-drunk and nearly lost in the smell, the taste, the very essence of him—ginger and sandalwood and sharp, crisp apples.

I press even more tightly against him now, sliding my hands down his back, wrapping my arms around his waist, twisting my fingers in the soft, silky material of his dress shirt as I pull him closer and closer and closer. Hudson groans, nips at my lower lip, tangles his fingers in my hair as our kiss grows deeper, hotter, more intense.

I have a random thought that I never want this to end—that I never want to let him go—but then he tilts my head back, delves into my mouth, and the ability to think abandons me.

All I can do is burn.

I don’t know how long we would have stood there destroying each other—burning each other alive—if a couple of wolves hadn’t wandered by and let out long, low whistles.

I’m so caught up in the heat sizzling through me that I barely hear them, but Hudson breaks away with a snarl so dark and threatening that their whistles turn to whines as they hightail it back to the castle.

Hudson turns back to me, but I can see in his eyes the same thing I know is reflected in mine. The moment has passed.

Still, as he backs away and I straighten out my hair, all I can think is that the whole mating bond chemistry thing is not a lie.

And also, when do I get to kiss him again?

It’s that thought—and the urgency behind it—that has me backing away from Hudson with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and even though he looks concerned, he makes no move to bridge the gap I’ve opened between us.

“Of course!” I tell him in a voice that sounds anything but. “It was just a kiss.”

Even as I say the words, I know they’re a lie. Because if that was just a kiss, then Denali is just a hill. Or, you know, a tiny bump in the road.

“Right,” Hudson says, and the British is back. “And the sun is a match.”

He just holds my gaze, hands shoved deep in his pockets. And waits. He glances around like he’s expecting my uncle to jump out of the bushes and throw him in the dungeon for daring to defile his precious niece. “Do you, um—do you still want to study?”

No, what I really want to do is rush back to my room and dissect every second of what just happened with Macy. And then Eden. And then maybe Macy and Eden together. But none of that is going to get me a passing grade in history, so, “Yeah, I do. If it’s still okay with you.”

He gives me a look. “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t good with me.”

“Oh, right.” I give him the best smile I can muster and pray I don’t look deranged. Or like I cook small children in the oven of my gingerbread house. The line between my I’m nervous look and my I’m off the rails; you should hide all your valuables look is a lot finer than I would like.

Still, I must not be too bad yet, because Hudson doesn’t run away in terror.

But before we can move on, there’s one thing I have to tell him.

“The reason I wanted to think about what question I would ask you is not because I don’t want to know everything about you.”

He turns his head like he’s expecting a blow and doesn’t want to see it coming, but I’m not having it. I was a coward before, but I can’t always make Hudson be the one to knock against our walls.

So I step directly in front of him until he has no choice but to look at me again. When I’m absolutely sure I’ve got his attention, I continue. “I know your childhood was terrible, probably worse than I can imagine just from that one peek I had of it with your father, and I didn’t want to ask you a question that would cause you pain, Hudson.”

A glimmer of hope sparks to life in his eyes, and his mouth moves like he’s about to say something. But in the end, he just nods and slips his palm into mine in what is fast becoming a habit, then leads me down the path and around the bend at the end of it. And no, I’m not ignorant to the symbolism there, but I am trying to ignore it.

Which is pretty easy to do when I see where Hudson has brought me—a small outdoor pavilion, complete with a picnic table, twinkly lights, and the most beautiful view of a mountain lake I have ever seen.

All around the lake, flowers are in bloom in every shade of the rainbow—and in the center of the table is a clear vase loaded to the brim with wildflowers.

“You did all this?” I ask, looking around me in wonder.

“I can take credit for the flowers and the lights, but the view is all Alaska.”

“Fair enough,” I say with a laugh. “But still, you didn’t have to go through this much trouble for a study date.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” he tells me. “Besides, I wanted to give you your other birthday present.”

“Oh. But you already gave me my birthday present. Which I loved, by the way. Pablo Neruda is my favorite poet ever.”

“You didn’t forget I said I had another present for you, did you?” he asks incredulously.

“I love that book. I was very happy with the one present. I don’t need more.”

“Oh, well, if that’s the case, I don’t have to give you anything else.” He nods to my backpack. “We could just study instead.”

“No! I mean, yes, I want to study. But if you already have my second birthday present, I wouldn’t mind opening it.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. Hudson may act like nothing matters to him, but the truth is he puts a lot of thought into everything he does—which really makes me wonder what he thought he should get for me and what I should only open when we were alone.

“It’s actually one of those gifts that’s best given fresh,” he tells me.

“Like flowers?” I ask, leaning in to smell the gorgeous wildflower bouquet he’s put on the table. “I love them!”