Hawke (22 page)

He nodded and took my fork from out of my hand. “Yeah, I need this.”

“Just don’t eat all of it, okay? There’s two people here.”

“I won’t. Fucking hell, so bossy.”

“Gotta be bossy with you boys.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Sprite.”

“That’s weak.”

I rolled my eyes and sarcastically mumbled, “Sorry for disappointing you, my lordship.”

We watched half a season, ate all the food, and somehow alcohol appeared out of the blue. Keeping conversation short, Hector drank himself to sleep on the couch, and I went back to my room at quarter to midnight, sober.

The heat was unbearable, so I threw my clothes off and slid into bed naked, snatching Hawke’s t-shirt off the floor along the way. He’d taken it off the morning after he’d murdered Yuri. I should have been repulsed that it was the same shirt he’d killed Yuri in, and covered in his blood too. But I’d completely lost my sanity after what happened, and was Hawke deprived and depressingly lonely.

So I made it into a ball and used it as a pillow, and with Hawke’s scent in my nose, I fell asleep easily, no nightmares chasing me.

twenty-six

Tyler

I woke up not two hours later to the sound of water sloshing nearby. My eyes burned from fatigue and the sting of light coming from the half-opened bathroom. I sat up and glanced tiredly around the room, catching sight of black boots set neatly by the door. Next to them was a pair of jeans and…a black leather jacket. The scent of Hawke wasn’t in just my nose anymore, but all around me.

My heart tightened in my chest.

He was here.

Showering.

I quickly ran my hand over my hair, neatening it. Then all at once I dropped back on the mattress and shut my eyes. Maybe I needed to pretend to be asleep.

My eyes opened twenty seconds later and I sat back up. I was jittery. He’d see me flinching if he stepped out, and if he figured out I was faking sleep, there’d be that awkward feeling in the air, and I didn’t want
another
awkward encounter with him.

It felt like a lifetime passed by before the water shut off and a body stepped out. He was naked.
Obviously.
And standing side on, glancing at himself in the mirror. He seemed focused on a part of his chest, meanwhile I was focused on the way his ass jutted out.

Wow.

I was actually seeing him naked this time. I wasn’t immobilized in terror and rocking in his arms under the water. Nor were we in the dark with him pressed against my chest.

He was completely visible and, holy fuck, he had a very muscular ass, and thick corded thighs that –

He turned face on and stepped out, and holy fuck…

Holy fuuuuck.

My mouth dried entirely. He looked incredible. No, better than incredible; he made the posters of guys I used to hang up around the bedroom look like broomstick sissies.

I could see the line and shape of every muscle on his body: his traps, biceps, abs, and a V that put all other V’s to shame.

But that wasn’t where I was currently looking.

No, it was his giant fucking package blaring at me shamelessly or, rather, swinging.

It looked nothing like Gavin’s dick. Actually, his dick looked like a stale Cheeto compared to Hawke’s. Hawke was beautiful. Yeah, I called his dick
beautiful
.

This sexy, huge dicked beast had fucked me, and I’d practically taken it for granted by not turning on one simple light switch.

He stopped moving when he saw me. “Did I wake you up?” he asked, his baritone voice causing flutters in my stomach.

I shook my head, forcing my eyes away from his beautiful D. “No, I’ve been stirring all night.”

“You got a towel that isn’t pink, babe?”

“No.”

He nodded, and that made the drops in his hair fall all around him. He went back into the bathroom and pulled my fluffy pink towel off the hook and ran it through his hair and chest. He stepped back out and moved to the edge of the bed, collapsing into it on a heavy exhale.

Then he sat there for a while, his back to me, not moving.

My brow furrowed. I was about to ask him if he was alright when I saw the bruises – giant ones the size of large fists – running along his back. My eyes widened and I crawled to him quietly. If he heard me, he didn’t care. I stopped behind him and softly rested my palm along one; his muscles flexed beneath my touch and his breath left his lungs in a whoosh.

I gasped. “Hawke?”

“Hmm?” he grumbled.

“Your back…”

“Yeah.”

Both hands slid along his back. His flesh was hot and moist, and I could tell by the way he shuddered that he was in a lot of pain. “What happened?”

“Work, darlin’.”

“Club?”

“No.”

“Borden?”

“Mm. Had to roughen up some men.”

“They hurt you.”

He chuckled scornfully. “You should see them.”

He turned around suddenly and I shifted back, covering my breasts with my arm as he looked at me. He hadn’t turned the bathroom light off, so there was plenty of it flooding into the room. He had a cut lip and a deep black bruise over his eyebrow. I didn’t like seeing the marks. It reminded me he wasn’t indestructible.

I felt sad. “You look like shit.”

His tongue lapped at the cut. “I always look like shit, babe.”

I lightly touched his beard and then quickly dropped my hand. “Maybe you should lose the beard then.”

“Not your thing?”

I shrugged, not meeting his eye. “I like it. It’s just… I miss your face.”

“You know I got called Chewbacca once?”

My lips twisted up and I fought smiling. “Oh?”

“You think I’m a Wookiee?”

“Wookiee, no. Gandalf, though? You’re halfway there.”

He grinned. “Great.”

My heart burst at his smile. It bared teeth, perfectly white ones, and it opened his face right up. God, I wanted him again.

“Why are you back so soon?” I then asked him, trying to play it cool so I didn’t look like a salivating egotistical idiot that wanted to be told I was the reason.

“You know why,” he answered, eyes all over me.

My breath thinned. It was me. It was totally me.

“Took care of shit on my way here, and I was filthy. Used your shit smelling body wash.”

“I know.”

“I smell like a chick.”

“Well, I like it.”

He smirked, eyes now on mine. Fuck, he was staring hard, and I was getting red all over. “You usually sleep naked, Tyler?”

“No.”

Those eyes flickered
everywhere
again. “You should.”

I chewed at my lower lip, not responding.

“Get back in bed, Ty.”

He stood back up and made his way to the bathroom. He flipped the light off and darkness fell. I shuffled further back and rested my head on the pillow. I could just barely see him moving around. He walked around the bed and fell into it. Right next to me. Still a couple feet away, and we may as well have been miles apart.

Still.

He was in my bed. Well,
his
bed.

I turned my face to him, eyes adjusting to the dark. He turned his head, meeting my gaze. Neither of us said a word. I was hoping he’d just jump me and cut the tension, but he wasn’t moving an inch. I swallowed thickly and grabbed the covers, throwing them over me. Then I turned my back to him and closed my eyes.

I needed to sleep. Please, God, I needed to sleep and pretend I didn’t have a six foot two naked beast next to me, but all I kept thinking about was his smile. I squirmed, feeling my lower belly flutter and throb.

“Hey Ty?” he said a minute later.

“Yeah?” I barely sounded out.

“Why is my filthy shirt in bed with you?”

My eyes whipped open and I froze.
Fuck.

Very slowly, I turned my body to him. He was holding up his shirt, still wrapped in a perfect ball. I stared at it for a horrifying moment…and then I grabbed it abruptly, leaned over the mattress and threw it under the bed. He was still staring at me when I laid back down.

“I didn’t know it was there,” I lied, my voice tight.

His silence killed me.

He was judging me.

So much for avoiding an awkward situation. I’d just wandered straight into that shit-ville.

“Were you sleepin’ with it?” he suddenly asked.

I cringed deep in my bones.

Somebody kill me.

“No,” I answered.

“You weren’t smellin’ it?”

My pulse pounded in my ears now. “No,” I repeated.

“You’re a terrible liar, babe.”

An axe to the head. Hell, throw me in a fire, I don’t care. ANYTHING but THIS.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I had so many opportunities to get rid of it, or…at least
wash
it. Now I was worse than those creeps that stole panties from clothing lines and sniffed them at home with their grubby hands down their pants.

The bed shifted and he got closer. I tried to resist looking at him. I was too humiliated to even move. Then…

I felt his fingers at my mouth, tracing the shape of them. My breathing stilled and I turned my face to him before I could even think. He watched me, his eyes heavy on my mouth as he continued, forcing me to part my lips. When I did, he slipped his finger inside and grazed his fingertip against my tongue before moving back out and wetting my lips. His breaths were longer and deeper.

“Whose bed are you in?” he asked, gruffly.

I sucked in a breath, barely moving. “Yours.”

Silence.

Then, “Yeah.”

His jaw clenched as he trailed his fingers down my neck and along my shoulder. Then back up again, to my mouth, to my tongue, wetting my lips and sliding the wetness down my neck. I was burning everywhere. This was worse than the heat of summer; it was inside me, running through my veins, burning its way into my heart.

What was happening?

I waited for…
something
, and the anticipation killed because he was doing…
nothing
.

I raised my hand, and I brushed my fingertips along the cut on his lip. He had soft lips; the kissable kind that you probably melted into like butter. I wanted to kiss him, badly. I wanted to run my hand over his beard and down his chest and abdomen. I imagined grabbing at his cock and feeling it swell in the palm of my hand.

What would that be like with Hawke?

He parted his lips for me too, and when he licked at my fingertip, my entire body tingled. I swallowed thickly and traced his lips and down his throat, over that adam’s apple, and back up again. By the third round, I felt bolder, and my fingers trailed lower than his neck and down his chest. He was so built and rock hard, my hand went lower, over the speedbumps of his abs and to the trail of hair.

I had just barely brushed the beginning of his cock – smooth like silk and far from limp. My eyes shot to his, and his expression went dark. Lust-filled and charged with need, I moved to him and captured his mouth. It was a quick kiss, just enough for me to taste his lips and feel how soft they were. God, I’d missed them. When I pulled back, his eyes were still open, staring deeply into mine.

I didn’t know what he was thinking.

I made to move away from him when his hand suddenly grabbed at my neck. It was a firm grip; he didn’t squeeze and it didn’t hurt, but his grip forced me back to him. Back to his eyes. I gasped, my face inches from his, as he looked me over.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he whispered. “You’re trouble for me, Tyler. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop thinking about being inside your sweet little cunt. Can’t get enough of your lips, your taste. Can’t get enough of you period.”

I opened my mouth to speak when he pulled me to him, smashing his lips to mine. I closed my eyes immediately and opened my mouth to him. He kissed hard, with an urgency that knocked me breathless. He quickly moved over me, moving his hand from my neck to my hair and fisting it so hard my scalp ached.

“Open your mouth wider for me, Ty,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

I did, and I felt his tongue swiftly clashing with mine. I groaned, my body already seizing and coiling with need. He sucked at my bottom lip and I felt his hand grabbing at my breast, kneading it and squeezing hard at my nipple. A lightning bolt of pleasure shot straight down to my core, and I groaned again, squirming beneath his huge frame covering every inch of me.

Without thinking, I ran my hand back down his chest and to his cock. The second I wrapped my hand around him, he hissed in my mouth and dropped his forehead to mine.

“Fuck, Tyler, yeah,” he panted. “Squeeze harder, babe.”

I squeezed around his thick length, shocked that it grew even thicker, until not even my fingers met the whole way around. I pumped him and he continued to tell me to go faster. His hand left my hair and gripped the bedframe. He breathed heavily, eyes closed, as I pleasured him, exploring his length and feeling a bead of moisture at the tip of him.

I wanted to lick it off him.

Oh, my God, his noises only added fuel to my desire, growing feverishly bigger within me. So this was what it was like to pleasure him. It was hot and sweaty, even his breaths against my face did strange things to me.

He kissed me again, this time not as hard. It was a soft kiss, languid and sweet. He lightly bit at my bottom lip and then sucked it. Still stroking him, my other hand gripped the back of his neck, keeping him to me. My hips moved on their own; it wasn’t enough I was kissing him, my body did its own thinking and sought pleasure.

Seeming to understand, I felt his hand slide down to the sensitive skin between my legs. My head fell back as he trailed his finger along my slit, teasing around my opening.

“Fuck, you are drenched,” he murmured, kissing down my neck and moving lower.