Shadow Hawk

by Jill Shalvis

The man was fighting a massive concussion, three fractured ribs and a wrecked leg, with no drugs. “Logan—”

  “I want you to believe me. I could have fallen in love with you.”

  Her eyes filled. “Shut up and save it, because no one’s dying.”

  He tried to smile but failed. “Shit.”

  “Damn it, let me redo the IV.”

  “No. I’m good. I’m still breathing, remember? Tell me again what Hawk said.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “I’ll rest when I’m dead. Listen, I know he needs help—”

  “You need help. And I’m here to give it.”

  “No. I’m not dragging you into this any more than I already have. I can handle this. You need…you need to go.”

  He said this with his eyes still closed, and he held onto her hand as if he didn’t intend to ever let go. “Callen?”

  She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. “Yes?”

  He licked his dry lips. A decidedly un-nurse-like longing filled her. “You’re still here.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a nurse.”

  “That’s not why.”

  She was glad he hadn’t opened his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want you to wake up alone. Why were you faking sleep?”

  “Honestly?” He finally opened his eyes. “I was waiting for you to leave so I could break out of this joint.”

  She stared at him. Laughed. “Come on.”

  He didn’t smile.

  “Logan. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Want to bet?”

  Her smile faded. “You’re not kidding.”

  “Hawk needs me, Callen.”

  “He’s going to have to wait for you, then. And don’t even think about shaking your head, it’ll hurt like hell.”

  “Jesus,” he gasped, and lay back. “Okay, you’re right.”

  “There, now see? You just keep saying things like that, and we’ll be good.”

  Logan laughed, low and a bit hoarse. “What the hell are we doing?”

  “About your health? I don’t know, but I’m prepared to sit on you if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”

  Swiveling his head, he looked right into her eyes, his own suddenly heated in spite of all the pain he must be feeling. “Maybe I’ll try to get up so you can do just that.”

  “Probably sleeping would be a better use of your time.” Callen managed to sound normal in spite of the fact her entire body had reacted to his words. The man was a walking, talking sex toy. But she had a vibrator, thank you very much, and didn’t require a man for such simple pleasures as sex.

  Although it’d been awhile, maybe she wasn’t remembering it clearly.

  “I can’t sleep,” he said. “I can’t do anything but think about what I should be doing.”

  Logan needed a distraction. So many inappropriate things came to mind she had to stand up and flick on the television.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  She glanced up at the screen. “Friends.”

  “I meant what are you doing?”

  “Distracting you from trying to break out of this joint, when you’re still so hurt you can’t even take a deep breath.”

  Reaching out, he snagged her hand. “Looking at you is distraction enough. You’re so pretty, Callen.”

  “Stop it.” But his words did something they shouldn’t have, they warmed her from the inside out. “You’re just trying to charm me into complacency so you can get out of here.”

  That he didn’t deny that sent a frisson of alarm up her spine. He was. He was still going to try to get out of here and head back into danger.

  “How many patients like me have you had to babysit since you’ve been a nurse?”

  “Like you?” She laughed. “Exactly none. You’re fairly different.” As in off-the-charts different.

  “I don’t want to watch TV,” he whispered, and very, very carefully, he sat up.

  “You’re not leaving.”

  “Callen—”

  “I’ll stop you,” she warned.

  He eyed her. “How?”

  Good question. She opened her big old purse that held just about everything except a kitchen sink and sifted through for inspiration. She pulled out the book she’d planned on reading tonight if there’d been a break.

  Logan took a look at the nearly naked earl on the cover, the one pulling off some maiden’s dress, and laughed. “Okay, but could you skip to the good parts?”

  Hmm, maybe not reading. Again, she searched the depth of the purse and came up with a pair of playing cards.

  “I’m not a big card player.”

  She was running out of options. “Are you telling me you’re not a gambling man?”

  That caught his interest. “Poker? You’d take advantage of a man when he’s down?”

  If that’s what it took. “What’s the matter, you chicken?”

  His eyes heated with the challenge. “Lock the door.”

  “What?” She laughed, though inside something leaped to attention. “Why?”

  “Because if we’re playing poker, we’re going to do it right. Lock the door, Callen.”

  As if she was having an out-of-body experience, she got up and locked the door. “This is crazy.”

  “Now who’s chicken?”

  “You’re suggesting we play strip poker?”

  His eyes flashed. “I hadn’t suggested anything. But since you’ve brought it up, sounds great. I’m in.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again, not wanting to analyze the way her bones felt sort of loose, and her skin too tight. At least he was no longer thinking about breaking out of this joint….

  Oh, God. She was actually going to do this. Good thing she had a great poker face and was incredibly lucky. Not to mention fully dressed, while he had on a hospital gown and nothing else. It was a win-win situation for her. “Five card stud,” she said, shuffling. “Deuces wild.”

  “I’m beginning to think that’s not all that’s wild.”

  Her gaze met his. “If in the end—”

  “You mean when you’re naked.”

  “Actually, I meant when you’re naked.” Just the words brought an illogical thrill, since she’d already seen everything there was to see when they’d cut off his clothes. Except that hadn’t counted because at the time she’d actually been working on him, and truly had been focused on that. She wanted another peek, and the time to enjoy it. “If I win,” she went on, “you stay here.”

  “And if I win…”

  He paused and Callen felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, with her toes hanging off, a wind blowing at her back, and the earth rocking and rolling beneath her. “If you win, what?”

  He full out grinned. “Winner’s choice.”

  “You’re not going to name it?”

  “I’m going to keep it a surprise.”

  Oh, God. Okay. No problem. She pretended like that hadn’t gone straight to all her good spots, and dealt the cards. A pair of tens. Not great, but not bad. She looked at him. He had no expression on his face whatsoever, and asked for two more cards. She took three.

  And got a deuce. Oh, yeah. She kept her grin to herself and let him call her. “Three of a kind,” she said, and fanned out the cards to show him.

  He nodded, and with absolutely no expression on his face, revealed his hand—a full house.

  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 n
ipples.

  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.

  16

  Serena’s B&B

  Crack of dawn

  THE 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 some
thing 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.