Hawke: Christmas in Paradise (Billionaire Boys Club)

by Ellie Masters

  Hands move along my body. His fingers dance along the curvature of my spine. They explore the narrowing of my waist and continue onward to meander over the flair of my hips. One moves lower still while the other heads back up to tangle in my hair.

  Pressed chest to chest, and hip to hip, our bodies collide in a frisson of passion and desire. His mouth is warm. The caress of his lips is insane, brutal and fierce, yet softer than I imagined. I open my mouth with a low moan.

  He takes control.

  One hand wraps around my waist as he pulls me tight against him. I loop my arms around his neck, where my fingers move of their own accord, twining through his hair as he towers over me, forcing me to bow beneath him.

  His fingers run up and down my spine, spreading devastation in their wake. Coaxing shivers out of my body, making it betray how very much I want this kiss. My body flushes with heat. It travels through my veins, warming me from the inside out with a rush of euphoric bliss. My heart sings with pure joy, a dangerous, irrational emotion.

  A breathy sigh escapes my lips, followed by his lusty growl. Our bodies demand more than this simple kiss.

  The kiss turns from soft to hard, exploratory to demanding, and urgent to frenzied. His hand slides down from my waist to cup my ass. He pulls me against the hardness of his erection with a deep, throaty groan of desire.

  His fingers stab in my hair, pulling, twisting, yanking as he controls my face. He yanks my head back, exposing my neck as he kisses and bites his way down the tender flesh. When he lands on the hollow of my throat, his possessive growl brings an answering mewl from my lips.

  “Goddamn, Quinn, you taste like sin.”

  I roll my hips, grinding against him, wanting something I know I shouldn’t. His mouth returns to mine. Our teeth clash. Our tongues tangle.

  Behind us, Scott shouts. “What the fuck, Q?”

  Hawke lifts his mouth from mine. His breaths tug in and out of his chest while I pant, trying to catch my breath. He leans down, resting his forehead against mine.

  I watch as he studies me with silent intensity. The warmth of his breath ghosts across my face, and I close my eyes in anticipation as his soft lips capture mine one last time.

  It’s over too quickly as he pulls away.

  “Now, do I take the lead? Or will you?” Hawke takes a deep breath then looks toward Scott.

  “You kiss like a madman.” I pant so hard my lips tingle from hyperventilation.

  “I kiss like I fuck, but answer the question. I’m happy to put this asshat in his place, but that’s your call.”

  I wipe at the stray wisps of my hair, which catch in my mouth. My tingling lips pulse with the echoes of that kiss. That needy throb within me demands relief.

  But my head is still in charge.

  “I’ve got this.” I take a step back and press my fingers to my lips. They’re bruised and taste of Hawke. Already, I want more. Instead, I turn around and face Scott.

  Hawke reaches for my shaky hand and takes it in his, providing the support I need. I want to race inside, drag him with me, as we divest ourselves of the annoyance of our clothing and finish that kiss with the movement of our bodies skin on skin in a more horizontal plane.

  I want to know what it feels like to be made love to with the fire and passion Hawke gave to that kiss. It’s also clear I won’t survive the encounter.

  I’m not like Hawke. I don’t do casual sex. Yet, I’m considering it, all the while knowing it’s a horrible idea.

  Scott marches up to me, eyes stormy, hands clenched, face full of fury. His eyes shift to take in Hawke, slide away, and then move back to me. I understand the hesitation. Hawke is a formidable force and towers over Scott.

  “What are you doing here?” I prop one hand on my hip. The other remains shackled in Hawke’s grip. He’s not letting me go. Somehow, I know this, and while that little bit of male possessiveness normally puts me off, it does something else entirely with Hawke. I crave his touch and blossom beneath his protection.

  “What am I doing here?” Scott’s voice rises in pitch. It cracks. He clears his throat. “I might ask the same thing. Who the fuck is this?” He gestures to Hawke. “She’s engaged to me, asshole.”

  Hawke laughs and pulls me against his chest. “Then why am I the one who had my tongue shoved down her throat? Doesn’t look like she belongs to you anymore.”

  I try to look like I agree with Hawke.

  Inside, it’s a completely different matter. Memories of Scott flood my mind, the late nights, the whispered conversations, the talk about the future and our love. We were great together, and I miss it. I miss being a couple. A couple with dreams of creating something wonderful.

  But he slept with Sadie.

  I glance over Scott’s shoulder, pretending to look inside the open doorway. “Where’s Sadie? Did you bring her with you? Or, are you done fucking my best friend?”

  She’s not your best friend anymore.

  Shut up, I know that.

  “That wasn’t what it looked like.” He runs his hand through his hair. “It was the last time. I swear.”

  “The last time?” My voice shakes and I hate that it does. Scott confirms a truth I’ve been trying to avoid. I like to think it was only that one time, rather than an ongoing thing.

  Hawke pulls me back against his chest and wraps and arm around my waist. His support is welcome. This should be something I can deal with on my own, but I’m not as strong as I’d like to think. My entire world, as I knew it, fell apart the night of our office Christmas party. All the truths I believed became lies I couldn’t ignore.

  “That implies it wasn’t the first time.” My voice breaks and I clear my throat, trying to inject strength into my outrage. It doesn’t work. My words come out slow and shaky. “How long? How long were you fucking my best friend?”

  “Shit, Q, not like it matters. You’re the one I want, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He speaks to me, but his attention keeps shifting to the imposing presence of Hawke standing behind me. “Let me make it up to you. Come inside. We’ll talk.”

  “She’s with me.” Hawke’s voice rumbles over my head, full of possession and implied threat. His hand tightens around my waist. “And she’s made herself very clear.”

  Scott draws away, eyes widening. I give him credit, he doesn’t run, but he takes two steps back before coming to a halt and growing a backbone. His focus shifts away from Hawke; turns back to me.

  “Look, I get you want to hurt me, Q, but this isn’t you. You’re not the revenge fuck kind of girl. We have history. That means something. And our company? What about that?”

  “What about it?” After seeing Scott again, one thing becomes crystal clear. I never want to work with him again. Although, can I walk away from our dream? My creation? Can I turn my back on years of work?

  “Look, buddy.” Hawke’s deep voice sends a shudder down my spine. “She doesn’t want you here. I suggest you take the hint and leave.”

  Aggressive anger flashes in Scott’s eyes. “I know Q. You mean nothing to her. She’s using you to get back at me.”

  “I think you’re done here.” Hawke’s comment comes as two men in white shorts and matching polo shirts arrive.

  “Mr. Sterling?”

  Hawke points to Scott. “Please see this gentleman off the premises.”

  I crane my neck to look at Hawke. When did he call for help? And why are those men speaking to him as if he owns this place?

  “Sir, if you’ll come with us.” One of the men approaches Scott.

  “See that he’s escorted off the premises and never steps foot here again.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sterling.” The men bracket Scott and make it clear he can walk out on his own or be dragged out kicking and screaming.

  Scott’s face turns beet red and his attention shifts to me. “You’ll be back, Q, and when you come back you’ll regret this.” Anger threads through his tone, a sense of indignation that I dare to tell him no.

&nbs
p; The sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach makes me want to puke, but I hold in my fear as Scott shakes off the grip of the men and storms out of my life.

  With him gone, all my hopes and dreams disappear. There’s no way we’re salvaging our working relationship, let alone anything personal.

  I’ve lost everything.

  I collapse against Hawke and close my eyes. I’m not sure how long we stand there, except the fiery reds and oranges of the sunset are gone. The deep purples and blues of the night replace them as twilight blankets the earth. Soon, the moon will rise and the stars will come out of hiding. They’ll spill across the sky and shine as my future fades away.

  My hand goes to my belly. My fingers shake. I want to puke. It all hits me at once, what I lost.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Hawke places his hand over mine.

  “No, I’m not okay.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” I swipe at my nose, sniffing away the tears.

  He has nothing to do with Scott, but I’m thankful that I don’t have to go through this alone. I step away from Hawke, breaking the connection of our bodies.

  “Do you want to come inside and have that drink?”

  His head slants down and his gaze cuts to the open door of my villa. “I don’t think so. Come, let’s head to the bar. We’ll grab something there.”

  “I don’t want to be around other people right now.”

  “I get that, but inviting me inside is too dangerous. We need to talk about that kiss.”

  The kiss he wasn’t supposed to take.

  The kiss I still feel on my lips.

  A kiss that will forever be imprinted on my soul.

  “You want to talk about it?” I want to finish what we started and work Scott out of my system for good. I thought he was going to finish it. Isn’t that what he said?

  Only if you kissed him, idiot.

  “I’m afraid we must.”

  Twenty-One

  Hawke

  A man is nothing without his word, and I broke mine.

  Granted, I gave it in jest, fully expecting to win Quinn over with my charm. Our snorkeling cruise hit every mark in the playbook and I’ve always had a hundred percent success rate.

  Except, Quinn Hayes isn’t like any woman I’ve ever come across.

  At least we settle one issue. Her asshat ex-fiancé is no longer in the picture. With him out of the way, I have free rein to do as I please. Or, rather, I should have.

  Instead, I fucked things up. Not that I would take back stealing that kiss for anything in the world. I think I found Nirvana. As for hot? Explosive comes to mind. I’m still reeling from the aftershocks.

  She tasted so damn sweet, like an ambrosia, which tickled my senses and promised decadent pleasures to come.

  Once again, I’m rock hard and unfulfilled. My body responds like a teenager, constantly aching and weeping for more of sexy Quinn Hayes. Any other woman would’ve been in and out of my bed ten times by now, and I’d be walking away.

  So what’s different about her?

  I glance down, fully aware of the tears spilling down her cheeks. Her tiny sniffles aren’t supposed to be things I hear, but come on. Each one of them thuds against my heart creating a jarring dissonance within me.

  As for Asshat Scott, my men escort him off the premises, and he’s permanently banned, which leaves me alone with Quinn until we ring in the new year.

  “Can I ask you something?” She glances up, eyes shimmering.

  “Anything.”

  “You’re not a regular guest, are you?”

  “Is that what you want to ask right now?”

  “Not really, but I’m not ready to talk about—the other thing.”

  Right, the other thing. She means that scorching kiss. The heat still licks along my nerves and gathers in my balls, ready to explode.

  That other thing.

  A kiss which detonated my senses.

  I feel her in every pore. Every cell in my body vibrates with the need for her, a raging hunger I can’t quench.

  You went back on your word.

  I never go back on my word.

  Quinn has me breaking every damn rule.

  “I suppose that’s fair, but we need to talk about it.”

  “I know.” She ducks her head, unable to look me in the eye. I’d give a million dollars to know what thoughts are swirling in her head right now.

  When we round the bend, the grotto comes into view. Low lighting built into the pavers illuminates our way. We stroll without purpose, passing secluded alcoves occupied by couples enjoying a romantic interlude.

  I want Quinn in one of those. Tucked back into the shadows, I’d strip her down to nothing and drive her wild with need as we fuck. It’s the only way to wring this excess energy from my body.

  That’s all I need. One good fuck to get her out of my head.

  “You’re correct. I’m not a regular guest.”

  “Do you work here?”

  “Hardly.” I can’t help but scoff at that mental image.

  “Do you…” Her voice drops as she struggles to piece together her words. I’m not interested in forcing her into a guessing game.

  “I’m part owner of the resort.” The majority stakeholder by default.

  “Oh.” Her voice is so soft. She extricates her hand from mine and scrubs the tears off her cheeks.

  “Does that change anything?” I force her to face me. “Because I hope not.”

  Her shrug is noncommittal, but it matters. I see it in the slump of her shoulders and in the way she’s unable to meet my gaze. I stoop down, forcing her to look at me.

  “It shouldn’t matter, Quinn.”

  Her fingers lift and press against her lips—Lips still swollen from my kiss.

  Mine.

  A kiss that shattered the foundations of my world. A kiss that continues to spark beneath my skin. A kiss that keeps me in a state of perpetual hardness when I’m around her.

  Well, that last bit isn’t because of the kiss. I’ve ached for her from the moment we met on the plane.

  “It doesn’t.” Her soft voice whispers in my ears with the lie it carries.

  Used to women taking advantage of me for my money, and the status their association with me brings, no matter how brief, my first thought is not to believe her. But I sense she doesn’t care about it. In fact, I get the feeling it turns her off. I’m not accustomed to a woman who sees my wealth as a negative. To be honest, my ego is a bit bruised.

  She continues toward the pool bar. If I’m not careful, this is where I’ll lose her. As I’m unaccustomed to losing anything, it’s time to double down. I take note of the way she presses her fingers to her lips and suppress a low growl. I want her with a possessiveness I’ve never felt before.

  Unfortunately, the next bend takes us out of the meandering maze of the grottos and dumps us beside the pool. The night is young, which means the sparkling waters of the pool are empty. Couples who spent the day sunbathing are back in their rooms getting ready for dinner and the evening festivities.

  The evening festivities… An idea comes to mind.

  Quinn heads to the nearly empty bar and props her elbows on the rich wood. The bartender comes over. Before she can order, I step up.

  “A bottle of champagne.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sterling.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder. “I thought it was just a thing they did here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The name thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought they called everyone by name, but I guess they all know who you are.” There she goes again with the dismissive shrug.

  “Actually, it’s something we pride ourselves on. Every guest is treated like royalty. Every wish fulfilled. Knowing the guests on sight is a requirement of the staff.”

  “How do they do it?” She gives a shake of her head like she thinks I’m full of shit.<
br />
  “It’s not hard.”

  “Are you kidding me? There are people on my team—people I’ve worked with for years—that I couldn’t tell you their name if it was tattooed on their forehead. I can remember a face, but names? It’s not possible.”

  “There are tricks that help.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, really.” I can’t help but smile. My perfect Miss Quinn Hayes is flawed. “Every morning, they’re provided a list of new arrivals. We created an app that turns it into a game. The staff get rewards for their success on the app. Like a matching game.” It’s more complicated than that, but she’s smart. She’ll get it.

  “That’s a really cool idea.” Her eyes brighten. “I need that in my life.”

  “It was my business partner’s idea. I wish I could take the credit. I’m excellent with names. Perfect scores earned by our staff give them certain incentives. There are competitions between different groups. Everyone enjoys it.”

  “That’s really cool how you did that.”

  Our conversation turns more relaxed, back the way it should be. The tightness in her eyes eases. Her shoulders relax. Even her smile makes a resurgence. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to cut through the tension swirling between us.

  “Let’s sit away from the bar.” There’s no easy way to have an intimate conversation by the bar. Not to mention, my staff doesn’t need to be privy to my personal affairs.

  We settle down on a pair of chaise loungers. Justin, our bartender, comes over with two flutes and a bottle of champagne. The next few minutes are spent with Quinn watching him uncork the champagne and me dissecting her every move.

  Where is her head at?

  I’ve come to realize she’s a thinker, not a feeler like me. Emotions guide me through life. If something resonates within me, I go for it. If not I back away. I don’t need facts to make a decision.

  My polar opposite in many ways, she approaches life with logic, thinking her way through every situation.

  After Justin leaves us, I lift my glass for a toast. “To us.”

  She’s a bit hesitant but follows my toast. “To us?” Her brows pinch and her delectable lips twist with thought.