by Gwyn McNamee
I like her nervous, just the kind of nervous she was at our Angelo’s dinner, nervous because of the sexual tension between us.
Do something about it!
My wine glass clinks down on the table between the chaise lounges, and I extend my right hand out to her. “Come here.”
She looks at my hand, considering it for a moment before she slowly sets her glass down on the table and places her palm against mine. I gently tug her across the space between us until she falls lightly onto my lap, her bare legs dangling off the side of the chaise.
“Why are you so nervous?” I ask, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder and cupping her cheek to turn her face toward me.
Her eyes meet mine and I’m momentarily lost in the silvery blue of her irises and the glint of the setting sun off her flawless skin. “I’m not,” she whispers.
“Yes, you are,” I say, cupping her face between my hands, refusing to let her look away from me when I say this, “and I’m sorry you had to find out this way. It isn’t fair to ask you to take me, and all this, on. We said, and did, things when you didn’t have all the information. I wouldn’t blame you if you choose to walk away right now. But, before you do, I need to kiss you, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about doing it since the second you walked into my office.”
Her eyes flash with heat and her tongue slips out over her bottom lip, wetting it, making it even more irresistible.
Pulling her to me, I pause when our lips are a mere hair's breadth apart. “Last chance to run,” I whisper. She doesn’t even flinch, and I strike, pressing my lips against hers in a scorching kiss. My cock hardens beneath her and she responds, groaning and sliding her tongue along my bottom lip, begging for entry. I oblige and our tongues tangle, thrusting against each other wildly. It is exactly everything I had known it would be.
When we finally come up for air, I know there is no way I can let her go after that kiss. “Danika, you have no reason to be nervous with me. I’m still the same person I’ve always been with you, and I know exactly what you want to know.”
Her lips part slightly, but she sucks back the words, glancing down at her hands pressed against my chest. “You do?”
I nod and slowly brush my thumb down her cheek before lifting her chin so she’s facing me again, her buttery-smooth skin like velvet under my fingertips and I long to know if the rest of her body feels the same. “You want to know if I am paralyzed, how can I possibly have sex, right?”
She freezes against me, going so stone still, her chest barely moving with her shallow breathing.
Bingo.
Shit. How the fuck did he know that? Am I really that transparent?
I sigh and drop my forehead against his chest, my face probably turning many brilliant shades of red to match the sunset behind me. He chuckles and captures my cheeks in his palms, pulling me up to face him again, a smirk on his lips.
“Yes, some paraplegics have issues with sexual function. I, thankfully, don’t have trouble getting hard.” Leaning forward, he kisses my cheek, then brushes his lips against my ear. “What? Do you think I somehow faked those pictures and videos?”
Yes.
“No,” I say, hoping my blush doesn’t give me away again.
Why do I have to be such a horrible liar?
He laughs again and pulls back, pressing his lips to mine gently. “Baby, you can feel the evidence of how I feel about you pressing against your beautiful ass right now—proof that those pictures were very much real.” He pushes his cock up against me, and a groan slips from my lips.
The constant buzz of electricity that has been sliding across my skin since I fell onto his lap arcs between us, and he captures my mouth again. Cradling my face in his left hand, he devours my lips and slowly skims his right hand from my knee up my thigh to the hem of my sundress.
Instinctively, I shift on his lap, grinding down against his rock-hard erection. He moans into my mouth as his tongue glides effortlessly along mine.
Fuck, he tastes like wine and sex. My two favorite things. I’m a total lush, and I desperately need to get fucked. By. This. Man.
His hand slips up under the hem of my dress, searing a line of fire along my sensitive skin. When the tips of his fingers brush against the silk fabric of my thong, a shudder rolls through my entire body and I push against him, urging him further.
Touch me!
It has the opposite effect. His hand stills momentarily, and I want to scream at him, but instead, a desperate whimper escapes my lips and he groans in reply, redoubling his assault on my mouth as he finally slides my panties to the side.
I turn into him, giving him a better angle and gasp when he drags his fingertips slowly through my drenched folds. My body vibrates with need—the need for him to shove into me with his fingers, his tongue, his cock, hell, anything at this point.
He slides his fingers up until he finds my throbbing clit and he coats it in my arousal, making me bow up off his lap. He doesn’t relent, instead slipping two fingers into my needy pussy as he continues to roll against my clit with his thumb. I close my eyes and drop my head back; he follows, his mouth and tongue moving in time with his fingers.
Holy shit. I’m not going to last.
Bright lights flash behind my eyelids as I roll my hips against his hand, keeping time with the demanding rhythm he has set. I clutch at his shirt, my fingers tugging on the crisp fabric, desperate for anything to keep me from flying apart.
He pulls away from my mouth and my eyes fly open, searching his face for a reason why. His blue eyes are ablaze with desire and his swollen lips are slightly parted as he groans. “God, you are so fucking beautiful, Dani. I want to see your face when you come for me.”
All I manage in reply is a whimper when he curls his fingers up and finds my G-spot. A fire roars through me and the world disappears as my orgasm eliminates any possibility of cognizant thought.
“Oh, fuck, Savage…” My hips buck and roll against his hand and he covers my mouth with his, sucking my tongue in rhythm with my orgasm and devouring my scream.
When the splintering pleasure finally ebbs, his thumb slows and he eases his fingers out before capturing my face between his hands for a bruising kiss.
“Fuck, you have no idea how incredible it was to see you fall apart like that,” he says, dropping his forehead against mine. My breaths are still coming out in short pants and the world seems a little hazy around the edges, but his cock is still very hard beneath me. I would love nothing more than to yank the zipper of his pants down and sit down on his dick, but a realization hits me.
I can’t fuck him. Even if I want to, even if he wants it, I can’t do that. Not when I have no idea where this is going between us. Not when he clearly isn’t just looking for a fuck buddy. Not when he can’t give me what I need.
Reluctantly, I pull my head away from his and I glance down at my dress, now shoved up almost to my panties. I yank it back down toward my knee, clear my throat and quickly stand, turning my back on Savage.
“Danika?”
I peek back at him as I straighten my dress. He hasn’t moved an inch, but written all over his face is recognition that the mood has shifted.
“Um, I have to go. I’m sorry. I have to finish an article before tomorrow morning.”
LIAR!
With a quick turn, I make a break for the sliding glass door and immediately beeline for the kitchen to grab my heels before dashing toward the front door.
Shit. This isn’t me. I don’t get ashamed or shy after sex. I never run. What the fuck am I doing?
My stomach roils and I flatten my hand over it, taking a deep breath before I stop by the front door to bend down and slip on my shoes.
I see him approaching in my peripheral vision, but keep my eyes on the floor. This man has me so off balance, I don’t even trust myself to look at him right now.
Because you know running is WRONG!
As soon as my shoes are on and I grab my purse from the table
near the door, I’m out of excuses. Turning to face him, I plaster on a smile I hope is convincing.
He smiles back, but I see the question and disappointment behind it.
Cold-hearted bitch.
I step over to him and bend down to place a kiss on his cheek. Pulling back, I smile again.
“Thank you for dinner. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He nods, but otherwise doesn’t respond.
I turn my back on him and slip through the door and out into the hallway. The second it clicks shut behind me, I slump back against it, dropping my head into my hands.
What the hell is this man doing to me?
“What crawled up your ass today?”
I cast my death glare toward the other end of the table and my baby sister, Skye.
“Skye!” My mother’s chiding of her only grates more on my already tortured nerves.
“What?” Skye asks, throwing her hands up. “It’s not like you aren’t all thinking the same thing.”
I glance around the table at my oldest sister, Storm, her husband, Ben, and their daughter, Angelina, then at my mother, who gives me a sympathetic look.
“Well, honey, she does have a point. You have kind of been out of sorts today.”
Tossing my fork onto my plate with a clank, I drop my elbows to the table and run my hands back through my hair, tugging on the ends and looking to Storm for help. She’s the most level-headed of the Hawke kids, and she always tends to be the mediator. She purses her lips and frowns slightly.
Shit, I really have been a dick today.
“Savage, come on, what’s going on?” she asks, pushing her empty plate away from her and focusing her grey eyes on me. I don’t move or say anything. I really don’t need the entire family involved in my love life. I don’t know why I’m stupid enough to think they will just let it go.
“Well?” she probes. “Come on, Savage, last week in California you were happier than I’ve seen you in years, and now you are biting everyone’s head off anytime we talk to you and sulking around like your dog ran away or something. So, what the hell happened?”
She’s too perceptive for her own good sometimes.
I huff out a resigned sigh and lean back in my chair.
“It’s a woman.”
“Ha!” Skye yells. “I knew it!”
I glare at her again. “Shut up, Skye.”
The little brat sticks her tongue out at me and goes right back to eating. For a twenty-seven year old who constantly complains we treat her like a child, she certainly doesn’t do much to change our perception. Sometimes, I swear she’s intentionally childish because she knows she can get away with more that way.
Lord knows, we have been letting her get away with a lot since Star’s death.
“A woman, huh?” I look to my mother, reigning over our Sunday dinner from the head of the table with a glass of red wine in her hand. “Well, that would certainly explain the change in moods.” She gives me a small smile before taking a sip and setting her glass on the table. “You never mentioned you were seeing anyone.”
“That’s because I wasn’t. I’m not. Hell, I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“Savage!” Storm yelps. “Watch your language in front of Angelina.”
I look over at my niece, but she has her eyes glued to the iPad on the table in front of her and isn’t paying anyone an ounce of attention.
“She didn’t hear me.”
Storm rolls her eyes and gives an exasperated sigh.
Skye chimes in from the other end of the table. “Tell us about the girl.”
Fucking nosy women. I almost miss Stone.
“We met because her sister works for me at the club. She’s an investigative reporter for the Times. We went to dinner the Friday before we all went out for Stone’s graduation.”
“And it was good?” Storm asks, her genuine interest apparent in the way she turns her back to Ben and Angelina and leans toward me on the table.
I think back to the dinner, and how amazing it was once she loosened up. “It was spectacular, actually. We talked and texted the whole time I was in Cali.”
And did a whole fucking lot more than that, but that isn’t for anyone else’s consumption.
“No wonder you were in such a good mood the entire time we were there.” Storm smiles at me.
Skye snorts. “So, why are you being such a douche now? She get wise and dump your ass?”
“Skye Marie Hawke!” my mother snaps. “Shut your trap.”
I chuckle at my mother’s ridicule of my sister. Skye has always been the sassiest of the Hawke children and the one who tests my mother’s patience and temper the most. My mother has given her a lot of leeway since Star’s death. Losing your sister is gut-wrenchingly painful, but losing your twin sister, that’s another form of misery I can’t even begin to fathom. Skye hasn’t been handling it well, anyone can see that, but she keeps everyone at arm’s length and has adamantly refused to talk about the accident, or Star’s death, with anyone, as far as I know.
Maybe I shouldn’t talk. I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with my family about everything either, and I was a total dick to the psychiatrist who tried to talk to me in the hospital. We Hawkes are known for our stubbornness and need for control. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me she would react the way she has.
“No, she didn’t dump my ass. At least, I don’t think she did. I guess that’s the problem. I have no idea where we stand right now.”
“What happened?” Mom asks.
Sighing, I drop my head back and stare at the popcorn ceiling of the dining room for a minute. I know they aren’t trying to pry—they’re genuinely concerned about me—but sometimes I wish my family didn’t care quite so much. It might leave me some space to breathe.
Returning my eyes to the table, and finding them all staring intently at me, I know I won’t get out of this without telling them.
“Well, she came over to my place for dinner last night, and things didn’t exactly go smoothly.” I glance around the table, hoping that will be enough to satisfy them, but they all urge me on with their eyes.
“Why not?” Skye asks, finally sounding like she really gives a shit instead of just asking to goad me.
I drop my head into my hands and grit my teeth. “Because she didn’t know.”
“She didn’t know what?” Skye continues and I look up at her just in time to see her take another drink of her wine.
Storm glares at her, then turns her attention back to me with a sympathetic smile. I don’t have to say it. Everyone, except Skye apparently, knows exactly what I am talking about. “How did you manage that?”
“It wasn’t intentional. It just kind of happened that way. When she came to my office I was behind my desk, and when we had dinner at Angelo’s she came late. I was already at the table.”
Storm groans and leans back in her chair. “And you didn’t think to maybe mention it to her?”
I growl and slam my palm against the table, garnering a look of reproach from my mother. “Of course I thought to mention it, but things were going so well, and it’s not like it organically comes up in conversation.”
Skye scoffs. “No shit.”
“Seriously, Skye?” I snap at her.
She holds her hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Shutting my mouth now.”
Storm laughs at her. “Yeah, right, that’ll last ten seconds, tops.”
“Stop it,” Mom barks. “Savage, what happened?”
“Well, when she saw me, she dropped the bottle of wine she was holding and it shattered all over the floor.” Everyone, including me, cringes and I debate how to tell them the rest while keeping it PG. “Then, I told her about the accident and we had dinner. I thought it went well…but, after we were done, she high-tailed it out of there like her ass was on fire and told me she would talk to me later.”
“And?” Storm stares at me intently.
“And, it has been almost a full day, and not a single wor
d from her.” I can’t remember the last time I sat around waiting for a phone to ring.
Adults don’t do that, do they?
“Shit.” Storm reaches out and downs the rest of her wine. “That really sucks. Have you tried calling or texting her?”
“No, I’m not going to push her into anything she isn’t ready for. She knows how to get a hold of me. I just wish I knew what the hell she was thinking.”
“Are you just going to sit on your ass drinking wine all night?” Caroline asks, dropping down into the couch next to me. She leans forward and grabs the almost-empty bottle off the coffee table and tips it back, emptying what’s left into her mouth. “What is that? Bottle five in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Don’t exaggerate,” I say, taking a long drink from my, thankfully, full glass. “It’s more like four.”
She bursts out laughing and snatches the remote off my leg, pressing pause on that damn rain scene in The Notebook. “It might help if you stopped watching all these damn romantic chick-flicks and got your mind off of it. Since when are you a sappy movie girl, anyway?”
Since I met Savage Hawke.
I set my glass on the coffee table before turning my back to the arm of the couch and pulling my knees up to my chin. “I just don’t know what to do, Care.”
My brain has been a maelstrom since I left Savage’s last night. All I can think is what a total, absolute, complete fucking bitch I was to run out of there like that, especially after he gave me an incredible orgasm.
“I know, sweetie, but sitting here drinking isn’t going to give you any of the answers you are looking for.”
I beg to differ.
“What will?”
Seriously, what will?
I’ve been living the last day in a nightmare of indecision. One part of me wants nothing more than to fall into his arms and enjoy the sweet taste of his kiss again, while the other part of me wants to run as far and as fast as my legs and my will can carry me.
Savage Hawke is my greatest desires and my greatest fears all rolled into one. He is precisely the kind of man I’ve always known would capture my heart and actually be able to hold onto it—something I’ve managed to avoid my entire adult life—and now I know he might not be able to give me what my body needs.
