Hawk's Revenge: Lone Pine Pride, Book 3 (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rachel was sprawled on her back on one of the beds in the emergency room of the infirmary when Adrian returned to take her home. She propped herself up on one elbow as the door slammed, blinking sleepily at him. It wasn’t that late, but she looked utterly drained, with dark circles smudged under her eyes.

He eyed her, unsure what reception he would get after the way they’d left things, but she just smiled wearily and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Hey, Hawk.”

“Did you get dinner?”

“Moira fed us. She’s an incredible cook.” She came to her feet, stretching her arms high above her head, back arching so her breasts were outlined perfectly against the material of her soft woven shirt.

“Is she?” Adrian mumbled, knowing he sounded dazed, but unable to take his eyes off the feast of her body.

“Mm.” Rachel grabbed her coat and tucked her arms into it, zipping up and hiding all those delicious curves from his view—though she was no less erotically enticing to him hidden by all the fluff. “I was thinking,” she continued conversationally. “You should teach me to defend myself.”

He scowled, pulled out of his pleasant lust haze by her words. “Why?”

“It seems like a waste to have the toughest fighters in the pride babysitting little old me.”

He frowned. Grace should be here. Rachel couldn’t be left undefended. Admittedly, she was fine, but still.

“If I wasn’t so helpless, you wouldn’t have to escort me around,” she went on, breezing past him into the winter night beyond.

He quickly followed, frowning. There was something different about her tonight. She looked exhausted, but there was a bounce in her step, a challenge in her eyes. More fight to her, though she wasn’t combative. Just asserting herself.

She stalked ahead of him, tossing over her shoulder, “Unless you don’t trust me not to use any tricks you teach me against you.”

He lengthened his stride to keep up with her. “I don’t.”

She huffed out a sharp, aggravated sigh and glared at him, saying nothing. Definitely something different. Had something more happened today? He felt like he was missing something since their fight.

She charged forward down the path, doubtless fueled by irritation, then stopped so abruptly he nearly tread on her heels. Rachel whirled to face him, hands on hips. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

He pointed to a path on the left and she marched down it until the next fork where she paused again until he took the lead. She didn’t try to start another conversation and he wisely kept silent as he guided this new, feistier version of Rachel back to the cabin.

He didn’t know what to make of her like this, though he didn’t entirely dislike it. The new wildness was oddly compelling—and would probably be downright erotic if it hadn’t been sparked by anger that was aimed directly at him.

Adrian didn’t delude himself that she would hold in whatever she wanted to yell at him about forever. Five seconds after the door to the cabin closed behind him, she spun, hands back on hips, mahogany eyes shooting sparks.

“What’s it going to take?” she demanded.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Stop it,” she cut him off. “You know exactly what I’m asking. What is it going to take for you to forgive me? For you to even begin to be able to trust me again, because I have done nothing but prove myself ever since that
one mistake
, so what the heck is it going to take, Hawk?”

“It isn’t you.”

“Bullshit.” She blushed as she said the word, as she did every time she cursed, but it was no less forceful for that.

“It isn’t. It’s me I don’t trust where you’re concerned.”

She muddied everything with lust. He’d been an idiot, led around by his dick, and he refused to be made a fool by his desires again.

He meant to leave it at that, but at the bewildered look on her face, he found himself going on. “I trusted you when I shouldn’t have last time. You batted those big brown eyes and tempted me into mistrusting my instincts—and look how that turned out.”

“Then it is me,” she snapped, stripping off her jacket with quick, angry movements. “I’m the evil temptress who led you astray. It’s always the woman’s fault when a man wants her, isn’t it?”

“Stop. I never said that.”

“That’s exactly what you said.” She flung the jacket at him and he caught it, flicking it aside. “I seduced you with my
big brown eyes
. It couldn’t have been your fault. I made you want me against your will.”

He drank in her flushed cheeks and the rapid rise of her chest. “It was never against my will.”

“No, just against your precious instincts.”

“What do you want me to say?” He prowled toward her, crowding against her when she refused to give up ground. “That you don’t overwhelm my senses and drown my instincts in need until all I can think of is tasting you?”

“That’s a start.” She sucked in a breath, her breasts rising to brush against his chest. Her pupils were the size of dinner plates.

Shit.
How had he gotten here? So close all he had to do was lean and they would be flush against one another. He’d be breathing in the air she breathed out, looming over her like he could intimidate this woman who would never bend, never break. Her core of internal strength wouldn’t allow it.

And he fucking loved that about her. Loved that she would never be defeated, no matter what. She was a queen, a warrior, a thousand times stronger than he’d suspected the first time he saw her, soft-hearted and sweet, in that forest. Tempered steel and southern silk. And he’d never wanted anything in his life the way he wanted to take her, lift her to his mouth and seal them together, never to let her go. He ached with it, this desire for her—not just where his erection was swelling and pressing against his zipper, but in a tight, vulnerable spot just behind his heart.

“Rachel.” He couldn’t do this. She was his weakness, his Achilles’ heel. He lost all perspective where she was concerned. He needed to walk away. Far away. Beyond the boundaries of the pride. Distance was the only cure. When he was with her, she found all the cracks in the walls he’d built to keep her at bay and slipped through them until she was here, inches away, looking up at him with eyes that had gone dewy and yearning.

“Please,” she whispered, and the last thread of resistance broke.

He’d thought he would enjoy the sound of Rachel begging him. He’d thought there would be no sweeter sound in the world.

Fool.

That plea grated on his soul.

He caught her to him and she came so readily into his arms it was as if her body was responding to his thoughts. Her arms twined around his neck and he claimed her lips in a caress both urgent and lingering. She pressed against the length of his body, the softness of her curves draining the blood from his brain and channeling it all to his throbbing cock. He slid his hands down to her taut ass, gripping the perfect curves and grinding her lower body against his hardness until she moaned against his lips and tugged on his sweater, trying to yank it off him without allowing even a centimeter between their bodies. Her eagerness fired his hunger to a new level and he lifted her, carrying her two steps to the futon which groaned beneath their combined weight as he knelt on it and lowered her onto her back. She clung to him, dragging him down with her, still sucking and nibbling at his lips, teasing him with little flicks and languid strokes of her tongue. When his weight pressed her down into the mattress, she moaned again into his mouth, and executed a slow, sinuous body roll that made his higher brain functions shut down in defeat as she arched against him from hips to shoulders.

He broke the unending kiss long enough to rock back and jerk his sweater and shirt over his head. Rachel squirmed beneath him, still pinned to the bed from the hips down, shoving at her own top. In a fit of chivalry, he helped her with it, dragging the clinging cotton up, reveling in the smooth, silken softness of her skin beneath as he did. He tugged the shirt over her head and flicked it aside. Her hair lifted with static electricity and he took a moment to smooth it down with both hands. Gazing down at her, it was hard to imagine anything had ever been more beautiful than she was in that moment. The pupils of her wide brown eyes were blown with lust and gleamed with eager anticipation. Her lips were rosy, full and swollen from his kisses, her face flushed, and her perfect, silken curves rose out of the cups of her lacy pink bra. She was heaven and he was sure he’d die if he couldn’t get inside her soon, but there was still so much of her body to explore.

He trailed his fingers down the sides of her neck, over her collarbones and around the outer curves of her breasts, caressing them through the material of her bra. She reached for the front-clasp, but he brushed her hands away, shaking his head. Bending his head, he scraped his teeth over the plump upper curve of her breast, tugging at the lace briefly with his teeth before sucking the point of her nipple into his mouth through the fabric. She gasped, her head falling back and her hips twisting against his, pushing to get closer. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, framing and shaping her breasts with his hands, then switched to give the other breast its deserved attention. When he was finally satisfied and she was writhing helplessly, clutching his head to her breast, he flicked open the front clasp and tasted the silken sweetness of her bare skin. He tongued the firm peak of her nipple, rubbing his cheek against the swollen curve of her breast. She’d been made for this, all lush femininity. He wanted to wallow in her curves all night, but his jeans were downright painful and the need to get inside her was pressing every other thought out of his brain.

He rose up to his knees, struggling with the fucking zipper from hell, and Rachel sat up as well, her legs sprawled wide with him kneeling between them in a way that did nothing to help his ability to fit into his jeans. He cursed and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and the fastening of his jeans—and then there was another pair of hands there, helping him in a way that was both insanely erotic and not at all helpful. Adrian swore with feeling and nearly embarrassed himself like a teenager, only stopping himself from coming in his jeans by grabbing her hands and yanking them away, locking their fingers together to buy himself time to remember how to function.

When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with moist lips and dark, eager eyes and his heart rate went right back into the red zone.

“Take off your clothes,” he demanded, releasing her hands and standing up to get rid of his own jeans. He’d call his talons and shred the fucking things if he had to. But thankfully that wasn’t necessary. The zipper from hell cooperated and he kicked off his boots and dragged off his jeans, underwear and socks in one move.

Rachel froze in the process of shimmying out of her own jeans, her eyes locking on the length of him, thrust out in front of him. He took a step toward her, another surge of blood rushing to his cock at the way she licked her lower lip, never looking away from him.

“I got some more condoms from the infirmary. Coat pocket.”

He practically launched himself at the discarded coat as Rachel finished shucking her shoes, socks and jeans. Rummaging through the pockets, he found three foil-wrapped condoms.

We’re going to need more than three.

But that was a worry for later. Adrian grabbed the condoms and somehow stopped himself from sprinting back to the front of the bed and Rachel.

She splayed on her back on his bed in only a pair of lacy pink underwear. Underwear he’d bought for her at the pride store, telling himself the entire time that he wasn’t fantasizing about seeing her exactly like this. Lying to himself.

She rolled to her side, propping herself on one elbow and watching him as he ripped open the packet and slipped on the latex. She crooked a finger at him, eyes gleaming wickedly, and he was done for. All he could do was fall on her like a beast, stroking every inch of her silken skin he could get his hands on and pressing the fiery heat of his body against her softness.

She welcomed him into her arms, kissing him back just as fiercely as he kissed her, and tangling her legs with his. His cock bumped up against her pussy, separated by layers of lace and latex, and he groaned, his hips thrusting so the length drove up between them, rubbing against her clit. She gasped and squirmed and he reached between them, his palm flat against the soft curve of her abdomen and then teasing beneath her panties, threading through her curls and brushing against the slick, wet heat of her labia. He found her clit, gently pinching it between two fingers and then stroking through her folds to spear a finger inside her. Rachel moaned, tipping her hips up to take him deeper. He withdrew his finger and thrust back with two, curling them inside her until he found the spot that made her scream, arching beneath him as she grew even wetter against his hand.

He needed to be there.

Adrian withdrew his hand enough to yank her panties down. She helped him, urgently shoving them off and spreading her legs wide. He fitted himself against her, closing his eyes against the drowning depth of sensation. She was tight for the first thrust, allowing him in only an inch, but so wet it took only three strokes to seat him fully. He hilted inside her and she moaned, the muscles of her pussy tightening around him in a way that would have made his brain seize if he’d had any brain left. He picked up a rhythm, all instinct and need, grateful she was with him, gasping and straining for her own peak because he didn’t think he could have stopped then for all the armies on earth.

She threw her head back and screamed, quaking beneath him as she found her release and he let slip the last fragmented reins of his control, pounding into her. He heard the pitch of her cries change, going higher as another orgasm built, and he drove into her like a madman, going rigid with his release as sperm shot out of him and he came hard enough to lose a piece of himself in her.

He collapsed onto her, utterly drained but trying not to crush her with his weight. Sweat coated his skin and stuck her hair to her forehead, but she’d never looked more beautiful. Dazed and breathless, but breathtaking too. His Rachel.