Tortured Skye: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 2)

by Gwyn McNamee

My eyes fly open just as the bathroom door does.

  Gabe appears in the doorway—water dripping down his tattooed, muscled torso and over that damn V thing that turns women to mush, to the tiny towel wrapped around his waist, barely hiding what I know is underneath.

  He grins at me, and his eyes roam my body appreciatively. “Good morning. I hope I didn’t—”

  I cover the phone and hiss, then mouth “Savage” to him.

  His eyebrows shoot up, and he approaches the bed.

  “Oh, hi, Savage. I’m not sure how I ended up with Gabe’s phone. I must have accidently grabbed it at the club last night when I stopped for a drink.”

  All the color drains from Gabe’s face, and his body goes rigid. He stands by the side of the bed looking like his mom just caught him jerking off.

  I climb up onto my knees and crawl across the bed to him.

  “When did you come to the club? I left early, but I didn’t think Gabe was going to stay late.”

  Shit.

  “Uh, it was later, I don’t remember what time.”

  “It’s unfortunate you grabbed the wrong phone because I need to speak with him…”

  I’m only half-listening to Savage; it’s hard to pay attention to anything when Gabe’s glistening body is on display right in front of me.

  A drop of water trickles from his shoulder down over his left pec, and I lean forward, catching it with my tongue and following the path up to suck on his shoulder blade. Having to see the fading hickey some other woman left on him isn’t exactly pleasant, but I can’t be too pissed about it, considering I haven’t exactly been a nun.

  It’s time for me to stake my claim and leave my own marks on him.

  Gabe shudders, and his body tenses. Warm, strong hands grab my shoulders and unsuccessfully try to push me away.

  Oh, no you don’t.

  I’ve fantasized for years about mapping his tattoos and body with my tongue, and we didn’t pause long enough last time for me to indulge.

  “…he was supposed to meet me half an hour ago.”

  “Hmm…” I hum against Gabe’s pec, slowly licking and nipping my way closer to his nipple. “You could try to call him on my phone. Hopefully he grabbed it thinking it was his.”

  I glance up through my lashes and find Gabe eyeing me warily, not looking amused in the least by my explorations.

  He needs to chill and have a sense of humor about this.

  “Good idea, Skye, I’ll try that. Thanks.” The line goes dead, and I wrap my tongue around Gabe’s nipple ring and tug it between my teeth. He gasps and digs his fingers into my hair.

  “Seriously, Skye…while you’re on the phone with your brother?”

  I chuckle against his skin and tug his nipple sharply. A hiss escapes his lips, and he yanks my head back, attempting to dislodge me from his sensitive skin.

  The tiny towel wrapped around his hips can’t hide his body’s response to me, and I grin in victory.

  As much fun as I’m having, I relent when I hear the buzzing of another phone. I turn toward the sound and realize my phone must have fallen between the bed and nightstand last night.

  With an awkward lunge across the bed, I reach down and grab it and toss it to Gabe.

  “Hello?” He turns his muscular, tattooed back to me when he answers, and I can’t contain my chuckle.

  I can’t believe he’s so worried. This is hilarious. Gabe needs to lighten up, and I know just what to do.

  Try to ignore this.

  “Yeah, we must have switched phones, I’ll be there in like, half an hour.”

  I relax back against the pillows and spread my legs open, angling myself toward where Gabe stands.

  The soreness I still feel from last night’s aerobics doesn’t deter me from my mission. I need to lick every single drop of remaining water off that man, and then, I am getting fucked this morning, and Gabe is going to forget about his concerns over Savage.

  Savage is pissed, and I don’t blame him. I not only blew off the gym, I also completely forgot about our meeting this morning at the build site.

  Fucking shit.

  As if it’s not bad enough I fucked his little sister last night, I also blew him off this morning. “All right, Savage. Yeah, okay, like I said, I can be there in a half hour…”

  I turn to search for my jeans and freeze. My already-hard cock jumps and strains against the loose confines of the towel.

  Skye is spread eagle across the bed with her fingers buried inside her glistening pussy.

  Oh, sweet fuck…

  How the hell am I supposed to leave when she’s doing that?

  “Uh, Savage? Make that more like an hour. I’m going to drop by Skye’s to grab my phone so I don’t have to deal with her friends texting me chick shit every five minutes.”

  I end the call before he can respond and set the phone on the nightstand. Skye gives me a sultry, knowing look and pulls her fingers from inside her to rub them around her clit.

  Premature ejaculation hasn’t been this close to reality since I was fourteen. Placing my knee on the bed, I shake my head and scowl at Skye. “You are fucking evil, woman.”

  She shakes her head and sits up, shifting to her knees until she’s face to face with me. Her hand tugs on the towel lightly, and it falls, letting my erection spring free between us.

  The look of satisfaction in her eyes sends a flurry of emotions through me—anger, fear, regret, pride, contentment, lust…and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

  Her tongue hits my skin again and, sweet fuck¸ she licks off each remaining drop of water—one at a time—roaming over my body with precise movements designed to drive me fucking insane.

  I grasp her shoulders and try to bring her away from my body, but just like before, she resists me and works her way lower, toward my throbbing cock.

  Last night was hard, fast, and hot as fuck, all three…no, four times. We didn’t take the time to breathe let alone for foreplay. The mere thought of where her mouth might be headed has my knees practically buckling.

  She glances up at me when she reaches the appendage in question, and I watch, rapt, as she slides her tongue along the entire length, from root to tip, in one long, slow lick.

  Sweet mother of all that’s holy…I shift my hands into her hair and try to keep from guiding her mouth over the head of my cock and jamming it down her throat like I so desperately want to.

  Let her do it.

  Her pink tongue flicks out, lapping up the bead of precum that’s been hovering there since she put her mouth on me.

  Without further preamble, she slides the head through her plump lips and sucks me down.

  Animalistic sounds wrench from deep in my throat, and my fingers tighten in her hair.

  The heat of her mouth suctioned around my cock is indescribable. I won’t last long, and there’s no way I’m coming before her.

  No fucking way.

  I tug on her hair until I jerk her off my cock. She assesses me with confusion and lust clouding the blue of her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Her tongue slides out across her wet lips, and I can’t help myself, I lunge at her, knocking her back on the bed.

  She laughs and grabs my waist, but I kiss her quickly and then pull back off her.

  “What are you doing? You can’t leave like that!”

  I glance down at my straining cock and back at her with a grin. “I wasn’t planning on it, but you do not get to have all the fun.”

  Her eyes widen, and I grasp her ankles and jerk her to the edge of the bed. I drop down to my knees and bury my face between her legs, not bothering with any of the torturous teasing she put me through.

  I’m not that mean.

  My first taste of her is everything I’ve dreamt it would be and more. My tongue searches her body, seeking the exact spot that will drive her insane right away. She bucks against me, grinding her pussy against my face. I slip two fingers inside her easily—she’s already dripping wet—and curl them upward i
nto her flesh.

  “Gabe, please…”

  She begs and squirms and pants as I probe and search until I finally settle over her clit, sucking it between my lips with a growl.

  Her thighs tense around my head, and I know her release is imminent. I increase the pressure, flicking my tongue over the tiny nub until she screams my name and arches toward the heavens.

  I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

  Fucking perfect.

  When she finally collapses back onto the bed, I pull away and sit back on my haunches. A moment later, her eyelids flutter open, and her gaze finds mine.

  “Well, fuck.”

  Her words are absolutely perfect. There’s no other way to sum up the situation.

  What the fuck do we do now?

  My aching cock tells me what needs to happen first, so I climb up on the bed and into her arms.

  Savage tosses me the tenth dirty look since I arrived very late this morning. I do my best to ignore it. Instead, I try to concentrate on what Ben is telling us about the status of the construction on the location for the next Hawkeye Club.

  But I can feel his eyes on me.

  I want a cigarette.

  Badly.

  My hand automatically moves to my pocket and searches for my lighter even though it hasn’t been there for over six months.

  Like I don’t already feel guilty enough without having Savage give me the stare-down. I swear, it’s like he can read people with one look sometimes.

  “Gabe?”

  “Huh?” I hadn’t even realized Ben said anything to me.

  “I asked if you want to come in and check out the second floor. The elevator hasn’t been installed yet.”

  He doesn’t have to say the rest.

  My chest tightens, and my guilt increases three-fold. I know I shouldn’t feel bad for him. Savage’s rebounded from the accident, and his life is amazing now. He has Danika and soon, the baby. He has everything he’s ever wanted. But still, the constant reminders of his very real limitations have to be a slap to the face.

  “Yeah, I’ll come up.” I turn to Savage and make direct eye contact for the first time since I arrived. “I’ll take pictures for you to look at.”

  He nods but doesn’t speak, and his blue eyes—eyes that are all too similar to the ones I stared into while I fucked his sister last night, and this morning—tell me we will be having a conversation later whether I like it or not.

  Wonderful.

  I stall inside for as long as I can, asking Ben every mundane question about the status of the build. This location will be slightly different from the original Hawkeye Club. Instead of housing offices on the second floor, there will be additional smaller stages with multiple champagne rooms so we can accommodate more large parties and special requests. This should help us avoid any of the issues we have at the main club with space availability, and we won’t ever have to turn anyone away.

  By the time I make it back outside, Savage has already left, and I’m given a brief reprieve.

  Thank God.

  On the way to the club, against my better judgment and with my conscience screaming at me, I stop and buy a pack of smokes.

  I use the back stairs instead of the elevator, so I won’t have to walk past Savage’s office, and high-tail it to my office, closing and locking the door the moment I step inside.

  The lighter is sitting exactly where I left it, tucked behind my stapler and boxes of miscellaneous office supplies. There’s less temptation that way.

  I pause before I pick it up, the last time I held it running through my mind. It was a couple months after Savage and Danika got married. I had started seeing Doc again—to deal with the swirling mess of shit going on in my head after killing Abello’s men and kissing Skye—and one of my goals was to kick the nasty habit…again.

  My hands start shaking, and I drop down into my chair and scrub my hands over my face. I knew it would be bad, the internal ramifications for my actions, but I didn’t expect for it to go that far. I never expected to need Doc again.

  The first time I saw her, after my final deployment, I didn’t want to admit I had PTSD. None of us do, but I had reached a point where I saw my life spiraling out of control and knew I had to do something. The nightmares, anxiety, and all-around unease I constantly felt were too much to ignore. And she helped, she really did. Otherwise, I never would have sent Savage to her.

  And she helped this last time, too. Sort of. It’s hard for me to blame her for my continuing issues when I didn’t come completely clean about what had been bothering me. Leaving out the kiss with Skye and my feelings for her was probably a bad move. But at least I managed to be able to sleep at night again, and kick the cigs, until now.

  This situation with Skye is out of control, and it’s only been twelve hours.

  I never should have gone over there last night.

  Taking the lighter in my hand, flashes of another beautiful Hawke girl appear and tears well in my eyes. I trace my thumb over the star etched into the lighter case.

  She gave it to me before my second deployment, after I had picked up the habit on my first. I still vividly remember what she told me when she placed it in my hand. “You know you shouldn’t be smoking, Gabe. But I know you’ll do it anyway, so, here…at least when you look at it and are reminded of me, maybe it will make you think twice before lighting up.”

  She was right. I did think twice; I just continued to do it.

  Fuck.

  If she were here, things would be so different…with Skye, with Savage, with all the Hawkes. I wouldn’t be sitting here kicking myself and ready to light up again.

  What would she think of me and Skye?

  I bark out a laugh and dump a stick from the pack. The lighter flicks to life just like it always has, and as I light up, I can’t help but wonder if this is the start of another uncontrolled descent—for both me and Skye.

  I stare at my phone, willing it to ring, or buzz, just make any fucking noise. Gabe hasn’t called, and I refuse to be “that girl” and contact him first.

  Stay strong, Skye.

  Savage could have busted us this morning, that snafu with the phones was a big one. Maybe Gabe is still at work and can’t get away from prying ears. Or maybe he’s down on the club level and couldn’t hear anyway. Or maybe he’s off somewhere with someone else.

  No. Stop.

  The phone in my office rings, and I groan.

  Wrong fucking phone.

  With only an hour left on my shift, I have prayed it would remain quiet, and I can get out of here on time.

  I’m exhausted from the lack of sleep and extra physical exertion last night…and this morning. I press my thighs together against the tingle brought on by the memories and answer the phone.

  “Hey Skye, it’s Pam down in the ER. Would you be able to come down for a few minutes? We have one of your patients down here. Minor car accident, nothing major, but he’s asking for you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Maurice Mendenhall.”

  That poor old man. He’s one of my favorite patients. An eighty-year-old widower, he’s quick with a joke and sometimes an inappropriate butt squeeze when you walk by. He doesn’t have any family, so I’m sure being alone in the ER is difficult for him.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  The hallway is quiet, and my shoes squeak on the tile as I make my way across the skywalk. A quick elevator ride down releases me on the first floor, and I head toward the ER.

  A hand wraps around my upper arm, and I’m yanked into a supply closet before I can even process what’s happening.

  “What the hell?”

  I whirl around to see who is dumb enough to nab me like that. Lucas presses against my shoulders, backing me up against the door he just pulled me through. He descends on me, slamming his mouth into mine before I can protest.

  The kiss is dark and possessive. I press against his chest, and eventually, he backs away with a grin on his face.


  “Seriously, what the hell, Lucas?” I smack his upper arm. “Are you fucking insane?”

  His brow wrinkles, and his grin disappears as quickly as it appeared.

  Jesus, he actually looks confused about why I’m angry.

  “Sorry, I just wanted you to know that I forgive you, for what happened, and to tell you I miss you.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and consider his words. He seems genuine in both his apology for what he just did and in his forgiveness of my major faux pas. At least with Lucas, things were always straightforward. I can fuck him without worrying about reprisals from my brother.

  Life would be easier with Lucas, and he’s willing to forgive me for something that’s basically unforgiveable. Gabe can’t even bother to call me.

  Maybe I owe Lucas another chance?

  “Look, Lucas, I just need some time to think.”

  Not really.

  Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding? Gabe will always win. Always.

  His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare. “Time to think? What’s there to think about?”

  “I just have a lot going on right now, that’s all. This isn’t a good time for me to be trying to split my attentions between my job, my family, and…”

  Shit.

  What do I call him? He was never my boyfriend. Fuck buddy?

  “And what? And me?” He throws his hands up in the air and paces in front of me. “Jesus, Skye, four months. Four fucking months…did you ever feel anything for me at all?”

  I don’t know, did I?

  Of course I care about Lucas. We were good together. Maybe not great, but good. It was calm and easy. And I can’t say the sex wasn’t great.

  But that’s all it ever was for me, and I thought we had an understanding about that.

  “Lucas, of course I care about you. I’ve really enjoyed our time together—”

  “Care about me? Enjoyed our time together? Are you fucking serious right now? Could you be any more patronizing?”

  He moves toward me, making me duck instinctively, but he pushes past me, yanks on the handle, and disappears out the door.

  What. The. Fuck. Was. That?

  I don’t have the energy to worry about Lucas’s hurt feelings. I was upfront with him about what we were, and weren’t. If he let his feelings run away with him, that’s on him, not me.