Shadow Hawk (14 page)

Callen stared down at the cards in silence. Oh, boy. “Well,” she finally said, and stood. “That was fun, but maybe this episode of
Friends
is a good one—”

“You have to lose an item of clothing.”

Right. No problem. She pulled off her scrub top. Beneath she wore a pink bra. More coverage than her bikini, really, but here in this hospital room, with the light on dim, she felt extremely…naked.

He let his gaze dip from hers and slowly took her in, from the scar on her shoulder—result of rotator cuff surgery several years back—to her belly ring, to her hard nipples.

And it wasn't cold in the room. Quite the opposite, actually.

After a long, charged moment, he let out a long breath. “Consider me distracted.”

Yeah, her, too. She reached for the cards and shuffled. Dealt. Stared at her hand without seeing a thing, because he hadn't taken his eyes off her, and it was all she could do to breathe.

Nothing could happen. He was too injured, and they were in a hospital room for God's sake…and yet she'd never felt so aroused in her entire life.

He took two cards, and so did she, both of them inhaling just a little too heavily, the silence so charged she could almost see the current sparking between them.

The only item of clothing he had to lose was his gown. She still had her scrub bottoms and bra and panties to strip, and suddenly the idea of doing that held far more appeal than winning.

Logan was looking into her eyes, not at his cards, waiting for her move.

“Call,” she whispered, her voice tight.

Without breaking eye contact, he revealed…a pair of fives.

She set the cards face down and stood.

“What did you have?” he asked.

A pair of jacks. Which beat him, but she wasn't going to mention that.

“Callen?”

“You win.” Gaze locked on his, she pulled on the tie of her scrub bottoms and let them fall.

He stared at her panties with the U.S. flag on the little triangle of material and let out a breath. “God bless America.”

A shaky laugh escaped her.

“You take my breath, Callen.”

“That's your injuries.”

“No, it's you. Come here.”

“Our game isn't over. I'm trying to make sure you're good and distracted.”

“Oh, I'm good and distracted, all right. All the blood has drained south for the winter. Please come here.”

Her feet took her forward until her thighs bumped Logan's bed.

He tossed back his covers, revealing his wrapped leg, the hospital gown, and pressing against it…

A most impressive erection. “Oh, my,” she whispered.

“Yeah, unfortunately I can't move, so there's not much I can do with it.”

She wanted to tell him he didn't have to move, that she'd do all the work.

Oblivious to where her thoughts had gone, he patted the spot next to him. And then she did as she'd never imagined she'd actually do. She climbed into bed with him and slid into his arms as if she'd been made for them.

Putting her face into his throat, she wrapped her arms carefully around his neck and just breathed him in. “This is new,” she admitted.

“Cuddling in a hospital bed?”

“Cuddling. Period.”

“I knew it. You're a serial heartbreaker, aren't you? A love 'em and leave 'em kind of woman. Damn.” Logan sighed with mock hurt. “Be kind to me, will you?”

Her heart absolutely melted, and she knew she planned on being anything he wanted…. Lifting her head, Callen held his gaze while she reached behind her for her purse.

“What are you doing?”

She unzipped an inside pocket and pulled out a—

“Condom.” He stared at it, then her. “Callen. Are you sure—”

“Very.”

He took it from her, then let out a frustrated breath. “I'm going to hate myself for saying this, but I don't think I can—”

“No, but I can.”

Logan stared into her eyes as she pulled the sheet, and then his hospital gown, from his body. He let her see every reaction as it hit him—arousal, hunger, desire, all for her…. And when she was finished, they were both sweating a little, both laughing a little, even before she carefully straddled him, slipping her panties to one side so she could slide down over him without hurting his leg.

“Ah, God, Callen…” he said roughly. She hugged his hips with her inner thighs and lifted up, until he was nearly out of her, before sinking back onto him.

Heaven. On. Earth. Her eyes drifted shut as she rocked on him, moving her own hands down her body.

“No,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Stay with me.”

Startled, she opened her eyes. Arching backward, she fisted her hands in the bedsheets to avoid accidentally touching his chest and jarring his ribs. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Like that.” As she continued to move on him so that he slid in and out of her in a dizzying rhythm, Logan danced his good hand up her damp body, cupping a breast, rasping his thumb over her nipple, then gliding over her ribs, her belly, and lower, where they were connected, gently stroking, stroking…until she was coming completely undone for him.

Completely.

Undone.

She only vaguely heard his broken groan as he followed her over.

Wow. Just…wow…

“Callen,” he whispered a long moment later as they both slowly came back to themselves.

She separated their bodies, realizing that he probably needed to breathe, and went to dismount from the bed, but he tightened his hand on her arm and drew her down beside him.

“Don't.” He nuzzled at her neck, sounding sleepy, and so sexy she wanted another go at him. “Don't leave.”

No. No, given the danger he was in, she wouldn't. And a small part of her was grateful for the excuse to stay. She curled up as he drifted off, feeling the last of the tension drain out of her limbs.

It'd been an incredible day: nerve-wracking, terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and she sighed, exhaustion creeping up on her as well. She'd let her defenses down with this one, and no doubt she was heading toward Hurt City, but right now in his arms, sated, content, she didn't care.

Serena's B&B
Crack of dawn

T
HE HOTEL ROOM WAS WARM, COZY
and shockingly intimate, but that wasn't what caught Abby's breath. No, that came from the sight of Hawk, naked except the towel, stretched out for her perusal.

Or for whatever she chose.

Handcuffed to the headboard, eyes dark and full and steady on hers, he made quite the sight. If she thought too much about what she'd like to do to him, she'd probably die of embarrassment.

So she didn't think.

She just did. “I saw you,” she whispered. “That first day on the job, without a shirt. I wanted to touch.”

“That would have worked for me.”

“But I didn't know you then.”

His eyes met hers. “And you think you know me now?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not talking about the ATF part, Abby.”

“Me either.”

“Most people don't see past that, you know.”

Something in his careful tone caught her. Softened her. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can see why. As an ATF agent, you're pretty impressive. But that's not what draws me to you.”

Again, his gaze met hers, and for the first time ever, she saw a hint of vulnerability. She thought maybe that was the most arousing thing about him, even though he was built like a pagan statue, all golden skin stretched taut over defined muscle.

Like her, he wasn't good at showing people what was beneath the exterior. Probably that drew her more than anything.

He had scars, lots of them, some old and some very new. A dark bruise bloomed over his ribs. Several inches below that, he had another on his hipbone, partially hidden by the towel.

She found herself wanting to touch each and every single one. So she reached out and lightly put the pad of her finger to one of his pecs. He made a low sound and went very still, so very carefully still she knew he was exercising every bit of control he had. She was running the show, and he wanted her to know it.

A rush of gratitude and warmth flooded her at that. He understood.

People had tried to understand in the past year. Friends. Family.

Men.

Gaines had tried to understand, had claimed to get it, and yet there'd remained something far too aggressive about him, and she hadn't been able to get past that.

Hawk, too, was a big, bad, aggressive alpha guy, through and through. In work, in play, even in rest, everything about him suggested that he could be ready for anything in a blink of an eye.

And yet he hadn't aimed that aggression at her. Hell, he hadn't even done so when she'd been wrestling him down to the ground in the midst of explosions and fire. He'd rolled her beneath him, yes. He'd held her down, yes. But never to simply exert his superior strength over her.

Now he'd given her free rein to do as she would to him. And, God, the things she wanted to do…She'd started out at his side, but somehow after she'd kissed him, she'd ended up sprawled out, half on top of him. Abby could feel the power of him beneath her, latent, edgy power, all contained and controlled. It was intoxicating. It made her tingly and uncomfortably hot.

He made her feel…sensual. Yeah, that was it. He made her feel sexy in a way she hadn't expected to feel again, at least not now, not with him.

So she kissed him again. He was aroused, she could feel that, too, nudging at her hip, and instead of worrying her, she felt a rush of excitement. Real, true lust. She was damp with it, even. Their mouths were touching, they were breathing each other's air, but it wasn't enough.

She opened her eyes and found his open as well, filled with heat, patience and amusement.

“What's so funny?” she asked.

He gave a shake of his head. “I thought I was dead tonight. Several times. But that was nothing to this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're killing me, Abby. Killing me with your sweetness, your heat—no, don't stop.”

She'd begun to pull away, but saw that he wasn't making fun of her.

He wanted her to keep going.

And shockingly, she wanted to do just that. Cupping his face, she slid her finger along his rough jaw, tilting it a little before kissing him again.

“Deeper,” he urged so very softly she might have imagined it. She opened her mouth, then ran her tongue along his lower lip, an action that wrenched a guttural groan from him. His free hand came up, gripping the headboard next to his bound one, as if he didn't trust himself not to touch her. But she trusted him, so she did as he'd asked and deepened the kiss, getting a little lost in the heat of him, in the taste, in the way they were moving.

And then she found she yearned for his hands on her. “Hawk, touch me.”

“Abby—”

“Please? Touch me.”

He let go of the headboard to stroke his hand down her back in a languid, sensual motion that had her stretching and nearly purring like a cat. She'd missed this. Being touched. Although she couldn't ever remember a man's touch making her want to melt into a puddle at his feet. Needing more, she kissed him again and his fingers tightened on her shirt, fisted in the material at the small of her back, urging her a little closer.

When she ran her tongue along his, he made a low sound and slid his hand beneath her shirt. His fingers were callused, and his touch curled her toes as they stroked up and down, catching on her bra strap. And then somehow she was fully on top of him, kissing him wildly, spiraling out of control.

With another of those low sexy noises deep in his throat, he rocked his hips to hers, nestling his erection against her core. Surprised, she jerked.

“Sorry,” he gasped, and pulled back, removing his hand from beneath her shirt, slapping it back on the headboard next to his bound one, face tight, body tighter.
“Sorry.”

“No—”

“I'm going to close my eyes,” he said in a hoarse voice, doing just that. “It might help if I can't see how you look sitting there touching me, the feel of you on my skin, the look on your face as it hits you what that touch is doing to me—” He winced. “Christ. Even my own words are turning me on.”

“Hawk, I'm not that fragile.”

“I know.”

“I just didn't know if I was ready for this—”

“I know that, too. It's okay, I have a grip now.” A white-knuckled one. “Let's try again.”

Abby wanted to. More than anything. Because something had occurred to her. She felt no sense of panic, no claustrophobia at all as she let her fingers fall from his jaw, over his throat, down his chest, damp now, and rising and falling more quickly than when he'd run through the woods. She skimmed his abs, those amazing, sexy abs, which she wanted to trace with her tongue, then touched the edge of the towel where it was tucked into itself. It loosened.

Gaped away from those abs.

And her mouth watered. “Hawk, can I—”

“Anything,” he said hoarsely, his eyes closed, his Adam's apple bouncing as he swallowed hard. “Any-god-damn-thing you want.”

Biting her lower lip, she scooted back on his thighs so that she could bend down and press her mouth to his chest.

Feminine power surged through her, and she opened her mouth and licked him. He let out another rough sound but didn't move. She watched as his nipples puckered.

Hers did the same.

And then, almost without her brain's approval, her fingers tugged on his towel. It slipped free, and then
whoops
, look at that, spread wide, falling away from him.

“Oh,” she breathed. He was bigger than she'd imagined. Just looking at him made her thighs tingle, and between them, much more than tingle. The sensation felt so wondrous, she went very quiet to savor every single second. Then she wrapped her hand around him.

A strangled sound tumbled from his lips, but he held still.

Warm metal. That's what he felt like. “You're big all over,” she noted a bit shakily.

A harsh laugh escaped him. “Normally, I'd take that as a compliment, but—christ, Abby!”

She'd bent over and kissed him, on the very tip. “Do we have a condom?” she asked, then nibbled him again.

Another wordless sound rumbled from his chest, and his body arched up from the mattress, seeking her lips. “Bathroom,” he gasped. “Basket on the counter.”

She rushed into the bathroom, staring for one beat at the rosy, sensual woman in the mirror, then raced back to Hawk, galvanized by the golden, sinewy body stretched before her, flexed and taut with need. “Hawk.”

“I know.” He gulped in air and quivered. “I swear I'm trying to just sit here—”

“I need the key.” Abby climbed back onto the bed. “I need you to touch me with both hands.”

His head whipped up, his eyes connecting with hers. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.”

Nearly before she'd gotten the word out, he'd grabbed the key on the nightstand and freed himself, his hands immediately going to her hips, pulling her over him. Feeling him beneath her brought a rush of heat and more excitement, and, helplessly, she rocked her hips, frustrated by her clothes.

“How do you want me to touch you?” His hands danced up her ribs, his fingers not quite touching her breasts, though they ached for him to. “Here?” His thumbs scraped lightly over her belly.

Now
her
head fell back, and with her hips in motion, slowly rocking, oscillating, she was nothing but a bundle of raw nerve endings, racing toward the finish line.

“Abby?”

“Everywhere.”

His fingers reached for the buttons on her shirt, and for a moment, she froze, because, oh, yeah, this was where she'd have to get naked…

In the warm circle of light from the lamp, his gaze met hers. “Just me, remember?”

“I know.” She did, she really did, but she'd liked this a lot better when she wasn't thinking about losing her clothes.

So gently it nearly brought tears to her eyes, Hawk cupped her face. “We can stop here, Ab. I'll probably cry but we can stop.”

She smiled, as he'd meant her to.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Love that look on you. Trust me Abby….”

Oh, God, she really wanted to, but she wasn't ready to bare herself, and she couldn't force that. Twisting, she wrestled with a shoe, finally kicking it and one leg of her pants off before straddling him again.

“Wait. Abby, wait—” His hands on her waist tightened as he looked down her legs, opened over his thighs, at what she'd exposed. “Oh, God, look at you—”

“I need you inside me, Hawk.”

“God, you're beautiful. So wet.” Lightly, oh so devastatingly lightly, he stroked a thumb over her, right where she wanted him to sink into her body.

“Now,” she nearly sobbed. “Please now.”

“Yes, all of it, but first—” He stroked her, right at the center of her world, making her tremble, making her pant for air while with his other hand, he began to skim up her top, leaning in as if he planned on putting his mouth on the places he exposed.

Only she didn't want to be exposed, didn't want to tremble. She didn't want his tender gentleness now, she wanted him inside her, pounding until she exploded, until this desperate, almost unbearable tension left her. So she rose up on her knees and sank down over him—

“Abby, Jesus. Wait—”

Not stopping until he was fully seated within her.