Chapter 5

• Hudson’s POV
• Control. That was the word they used for me. Hudson Cross had control of the market, the numbers, the board. Hell, the entire city bent when I leaned.
• But that morning? I didn’t have control of my own cock.
• It started with the coffee.
• “Mr. Cross,” my assistant murmured, setting the cup beside me as the quarterly review began. Suits lined both sides of the table, laptops open, eyes on me like disciples.
• I cleared my throat, leaning forward. “Let’s begin—”
• The chair beneath me jolted, like invisible hands shoved it. The hot coffee tipped, spilling down the front of my suit pants.
• I hissed, jerking back.
• Gasps around the table.
• “Everything okay, sir?”
• “Fine,” I snapped, dabbing at the mess with a napkin. Except it wasn’t just coffee soaking into my trousers—my cock had twitched alive the second I felt her there.
• Her laugh slithered through the room, low and throaty.
• “Miss me, baby?”
• I gripped the table so hard my knuckles ached. The others didn’t hear it—they were already shifting uncomfortably, pretending they hadn’t just watched their CEO have a caffeine accident.
• “Continue,” I barked, forcing the meeting forward. My CFO launched into a report about profits. I tried to focus. Tried.
• But then she moaned.
• Loud. Obscene. The kind of moan that echoed off the glass walls of my conference room.
• Every head turned.
• Except mine. I was frozen, cock hardening against damp fabric, sweat prickling at my hairline.
• “Was that—?” someone whispered.
• “No,” I ground out, voice tight. “It wasn’t.”
• But it was. Collette. My dead lover, my ghost, my ruin.
• “God, Hudson,”
• she moaned again, dragging it out like she was riding me right there in front of the entire board.
• I shifted in my seat, crossing one leg over the other, trying to hide the bulge straining against soaked fabric.
• Someone coughed. Another whispered. My CFO was stammering through numbers now, glancing nervously at me like I’d lost my damn mind.
• Then her nails scraped down my thigh. Cold. Sharp. Right through the fabric.
• I bit back a groan, covering it with a cough.
• Collette laughed, delighted.
• “You’re so hard for me, Hudson. Tell them. Tell your precious board who you’re aching for.”
• “Excuse me,” I choked, standing abruptly. My chair screeched back across the floor. “I need a moment.”
• I stormed out, ignoring the whispers behind me. My cock was throbbing, my pants stained, and my ghost was moaning in my ear like she owned me.
• I ducked into my office, slamming the door. Pressed my back to it. My chest heaved.
• “Enough,” I growled. “You’re dead.”
• Her form shimmered into view across the room. Lacy black slip, blood at her chest, lips curved in that cruel, perfect smirk.
• “Dead?” she asked sweetly. “Then why are you so fucking hard for me?”
• I cursed, dragging a hand through my hair, resisting the urge to grab myself.
• She drifted closer, her fingers trailing the air just above my cock. Cold seeped through the fabric as if she were touching me.
• “Stop,” I ground out.
• She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “You never wanted me to stop before.”
• Her phantom hand stroked, and my hips jerked involuntarily. A groan broke from my throat, low and guttural.
• She laughed. Not soft, not sweet—sharp, mocking.
• “Poor Hudson,” she purred. “The great billionaire, undone by his ghost. You can’t fuck, you can’t focus, you can’t even drink coffee without me ruining it.”
• “Why are you doing this?” I snarled, voice breaking.
• Her lips brushed my ear.
• “Because you killed me. And now, darling, I get to kill you… one erection at a time.”
• My cock pulsed painfully against my zipper.
• And I realized with dread and fury both—Collette wasn’t just haunting me.
• She was destroying me.