“Thanks,” he said, pulling the cloth away.
I leaned in to get a better look and saw the blood still welling sluggishly from the wound. “That’s deep.”
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’ve had worse. I’m a decent cook but a total klutz in the kitchen.”
I looked again and sucked in a breath at how drenched the towel was. “Hawk, are you sure you don’t want to go to the ER? You might need stitches or…”
“No,” he said, in a rougher voice. “I’m sure it’s fine. Look,” he said, lifting the towel and holding his finger out. “I think it’s already slowing down.”
I shook my head but shrugged. “If you’re sure… Where are the plates?” I asked, spinning in a half-circle.
“Cabinet right next to the oven.”
I piled a generous helping of pasta on the plates and brought them both over to the counter, pulling up a bar stool for each of us.
“Well, you just fit right in,” he laughed, taking a fork from me and twirling a mouthful of pasta on the end.
“Hey, I was too hungry to have you bleeding in my dinner,” I teased. I took a big bite. I was so hungry and the pasta tasted so good, I savored it on my tongue. “Damn, I am a good cook,” I said.
“Don’t give yourself too much credit. I assembled the ingredients.”
“Right and turned the burner on.”
“And filled the pot with water. I’m a total genius.”
The space should have been filled with an easy laugh. But that slight, soft smile of his left too many unanswered questions. I had no idea where I stood with the guy or what he even thought of me. But all I knew was that I wanted him to kiss me again and the thought made my cheeks burn.
I cleared my throat. “So, ah, for business class. You called it ‘Joey and Hawk’s.’ You want us to start a restaurant?”
“Yeah. Just thinking about the bar downstairs as a starter. I wanted to think of ways to make it really lucrative. You know, fine alcohol and stuff. Maybe build a stage for some of the alt-rock bands some of our patrons are part of — increase their personal investment.”
I shook my head, my mouth full of pasta. “Sansom is turning into a more hipster neighborhood. Class up the food a little bit — those root vegetables you made for Rowland House tonight were beautiful — and make it like bar and comfort food with a gourmet twist.”
Hawk put his fork down. “Okay, but are the guys who hang out there already going to appreciate that?”
“It’s not for the guys who hang out there already. We have to build our restaurant for who we know. College kids.”
Hawk looked hesitant, but now I was on a roll. “Get rid of the smoke, get some nice furniture. Have a painting party.”
Hawk laughed. “Yeah, but you’re not thinking. We don’t have any starting capital and not much to offer besides the same services we’ve been giving the same guys, night after night. How are we going to get a new market in there?”
I shrugged and took another mouthful of pasta. Chewed while I thought. “We could have themed hipster food nights. Artisan ice cream. Pasta bar. And we could charge tickets for people to come see the bands.”
Hawk’s face screwed up in thought, and he grabbed a notebook from the counter. His pen flew across the page, drawing plans and sketches for more stage area and seating.
I tried to focus on my pasta and not the fact that the way he bit his lip while sketching was adorable and totally sexy at the same time.
He raked his hand back through his hair, making it stand charmingly on end again. “Christ. This project was not the easiest pick I can see now.”
“Well,” I said. “I know he said no changing, but if we really can’t hack it…”
“Fuck it. No, we have to do the restaurant. Bar. Whatever.”
I snorted. “Why do you care? I mean, you’re just working there to get through school, right?”
His face fell.
“I….sort of. Well, not really.”
I titled my head to stare at him. “Every kid I know who works at a bar hates it. You can only serve drinks and breathe in smoke all night for so long.”
He shrugged like he’d just thought of it. “Not me. I’ll be doing it forever. I own the place. So this business plan could be useful someday.”
I paused with the fork halfway to my mouth. “Hold on. You own it?”
He nodded, leaning back with a satisfied smile.
I waved my fork half-full of pasta at him. “How exactly does a kid your age — twenty, twenty-one?”
“Twenty-three,” he replied.
“Okay. How do you own a bar?”
“It’s really half a bar. Gary, that guy who started all that shit the other night? He owns half of it.”
I shoved a bite of food in my mouth and nodded. “Okay….”
He looked away and blinked hard. “Long story short, my dad passed away. Car crash. A bad one.”
Holy hell. I’d made him tell me about two dead parents in one night. My voice dropped. “My God. I’m so sorry, Hawk.”
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat once, then again. “He didn’t have life insurance, but he left me the bar and enough in savings for me to pay for school. But only if I kept working and investing in the bar to make it profitable. So yeah. That’s what I did.”
I had no idea what would have possessed Hawk to continue to invest in such a shit place, but right now, that didn’t really matter. What mattered was that this guy had been nice enough to make me dinner, and now I was making him almost-cry. Shit.
“Anyway, the school thing’s not working out so well. Obviously.”
“What do you mean? Being late?”
He gave a short laugh, staring out the window. “That’s just part of it. Yeah. I don’t even know when I’m going to graduate. Or if I will.”
“I mean, school is important, though, right? You can work on — ”
“There’s nothing I can change right now. The goddamn bar…and goddamn Gary… Whatever. I don’t see why you give a shit,” he growled and shoved the notebook across the counter.
I chewed my lip. A guy like Hawk blowing off school to try to make a profit from a divey bar made no sense. But no matter what he said, it wasn’t “whatever.” The look on his face was both hard and sad at the same time, like he cared and then hated himself for it. It made me want to both shake him and hold him in my arms to make it all better. Too bad I wasn’t brave enough to do either.
The guy was smart, I knew he was, and as much as he pretended not to care about anything or anyone, I had seen a hint of just how untrue that was. And it made me like the guy even more. Beyond his gorgeous face and chiseled arms, Hawk had his own dreams and his own problems. And I wasn’t a part of either.
I looked down at my plate and realized I’d managed to scarf most of what was there. I wiped my hands on a paper towel, hopped down from the stool, and rounded the counter to Hawk. “Let me see that finger again.”
He tilted his head and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “It’s fine.”
“I’m pre-med, remember?” Like that gave me any qualifications for anything. Still, it didn’t stop all my friends from expecting me to answer their medical questions. My status seemed to convince Hawk, too. He removed the towel, wincing, and held his finger out to me.
A line of blood formed at the cut, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been. I grabbed the towel and dabbed at it again. “Do you have a bandage?”
“Just a little sticky one?” he asked.
“A couple would be best.”
“I think I do. Kitchen cabinet probably.”
“Okay, I’ll get those, and you wash that out. With soap,” I instructed.
I found three medium-sized bandages — different brands and slightly different sizes, but they would work. When I turned around, soapy water was dripping down Hawk’s forearm — god, that forearm — and he was wrapping the towel around it again.
I ripped the wrappers off the bandages and
half-pulled the adhesive backing off, a trick I’d learned from watching the nurses get the shots ready during well-child visits with Doctor O’Donnell.
“C’mere,” I motioned for Hawk. “We’re going to do this fast, okay?”
He held out his finger, and I expertly arched a bandage over the top of his fingertip, then wrapped one around the base of the first to hold it in place.
“That should stop the last of the bleeding.” I was suddenly aware of how close he was to me, how clearly I could hear — or was it feel? — his heart beating. The inside of my wrist brushed against the inside of his, and then I let my fingertips trail down his forearm. I swore I saw Hawk’s eyelids flutter, just for a split second. Even though it was just our hands, our wrists, our arms, that skin-on-skin contact was enough of a preview for me to guess at what the full-frontal version would feel like. And my guess was that I would be good. Really good.
I fought to control my breathing and to figure out how I would manage to step away from him when I was done patching him up. The words I could say to tell him, “I’m going to stop touching you now,” even though that was the last thing in the universe I wanted to do.
But did he feel it, too? There was one way to find out. For ten seconds, I pretended to fuss over the bandages, wrapping the third over the first two just for good measure while I took a mental note of his heart rate.
Well, damn. It was about 80. Too fast for someone who’d just been standing around.
Then I realized that mine matched his.
My fingertips loosely held his palm, and when he moved to cup the back of my head, fisting his fingers in my hair, I splayed my fingers out across the back of his hand, feeling the stretch of every tendon, every little movement. My eyes met his, and they seemed to darken with a storm of hunger, of need. His hot breath tickled the skin above my upper lip, and my entire body was suddenly on edge, every cell a live wire.
When he tilted my head back and up toward his, I realized how freeing it was not to have everything thought out and planned down to the letter for once in my life. The possibilities that stretched before me completely took my breath away.
I needed more of that feeling, and I needed more of him. I’d been absolutely starved for both.
My lips parted in a gasp as they collided with his. He nipped my bottom lip and traced it with his tongue before he dove in, harder, for more. His other hand gripped my waist briefly before moving down to grab my butt, and without even breaking the kiss, he lifted me up to sit on the countertop.
With my lips still crushed to his, I giggled with relief at the realization that I had managed to avoid smooshing my ass into a plate of leftover pasta.
“What?” he growled, breaking the kiss and moving his mouth to nip at the crook of my neck, then lick along my collarbone.
“Nothing,” I groaned. “Just…putting a girl on the counter where you just ate dinner could get messy.” His tongue traced a hot trail down to my shoulder, and I let my head fall back. My eyes fluttered shut, and heat flooded me. Suddenly, the urge for my skin to be pressed against his overwhelmed me, like my whole body was on fire. Might burn my clothes off any second.
“You’re right,” he said, drawing back. I wanted to grab his shirt and tear it off while I slammed him down on the counter. Given my level of adrenaline in that moment, even my tiny self could probably accomplish that. But instead, a whimper escaped my throat.
He dipped his head down for another kiss. “Okay if I take you to the bedroom?”
I licked my lips and nodded quickly. In a split second, he’d scooped me up in his arms and swung me off the counter, striding toward the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss.
Dim rays of the street lamps outside poked through the curtains enough to show a slate-gray comforter and sheets on a queen bed in the middle of the room, framed by two plain tables.
I fell backward as he dropped me, bouncing back up just a tiny bit. Hawk followed, pinning my wrists to the mattress, devouring my mouth, then my neck, like he was starving and I was the most delicious thing he’d ever seen. Those long, strong fingers I’d admired for days unfastened the buttons on my shirt in just a few seconds, and when his hand pushed under the hem of my camisole, I gasped and arched my back. He took advantage, slipping his hand around my torso and sliding me all the way back so my head lay on the pillows.
He sat back on his heels, his breath quick. The light made his eyes glow and his jaw look chiseled from stone. “Are you sure?”
I didn’t know much about Hawk, but I knew enough. Most importantly in this moment, I knew my body had never, ever wanted something as badly as it wanted to be pressed naked against his right this minute. I needed to drink in the feel of his skin, grind against the hard ridge under his jeans that I’d felt seconds ago and now could see — plain as day — even in the dim evening light.
“Do you have something?” I panted. Josephine Daly, the future doctor, did not think to carry condoms on her at all times. Damn her.
“I think…” He fumbled at something on the side of the bed, and when I felt the mattress lift beneath me, I realized where he was looking. “I stuffed one between the mattress and the box spring…ah, dammit…no, wait. Here it is.” He held the small square packet up in the air like a prized trophy.
I giggled, and my hand moved to the button on his jeans. My hands were just as hungry for his body as his were for mine. He tugged his shirt off while I pulled him back to me by the waistband of his jeans.
He lowered himself to lie against my side, and I desperately wanted him on top of me again. But only if our pants weren’t in the way.
Like he was reading my mind, Hawk’s hand moved to the fastener at the top of my pants, deftly undid it and pulled down the zipper. I’d managed to get his undone, too, and we both took a few seconds to shimmy out of our bottoms, our tongues still tangling together like we’d die if they stopped.
And then he was back on top of me, his hard abs pressed against my stomach, his mouth tracing circles in patterns on my breastbone. He smoothed his palms up my sides, grazing the sides of my breasts and resting on the straps of my bra. When he drew back and met my eyes, I knew what he was asking, and I nodded so quickly it must have looked like my head was motorized.
He chuckled and pulled the straps down, then yanked open the front clasp. ’When his mouth surrounded my nipple, his teeth tugged gently back before he devoured it, sucking hard. I cried out, digging my nails into his back and arching up toward him, letting him know that it was a sound of pleasure, not pain. His hand pressed hot against my stomach, making me moan and writhe with the sweet torture of it all. He licked and sucked his way down my stomach, worshiping my belly button with his tongue, and when I thought I would squirm off the bed from sensory overload, I gripped his shoulders and dragged him back up to me.
He groaned as our lips crashed together again, nipping and sucking at my lip and tracing every contour of my mouth with his tongue. I had never needed anything more than getting as close to him as humanly possible.
A burning heat started between my legs, and only one thing could calm it.
My nails scraped down his back, all the way under his boxers, cupping his ass and pulling him tight to me, just to get that hard ridge closer to the place I needed it most.
“Christ, Joey,” he murmured, chuckling. “It’ll still be there in five seconds.”
I whimpered. I might not be here in five seconds. I might have died of anticipation by then.
He sat back on his heels, leaving me panting and two seconds from begging him to just forget the condom. But when I looked at him, I was so glad I hadn’t. This was a guy that deserved to be seen in full view before enjoying.
He wasn’t huge and bulky like a football star, but he was definitely cut, with a clearly defined six-pack begging to be licked again and again. His defined, solid biceps could very obviously throw me around without a second thought. And decorating all of it, the thick, black, geometric lines of tribal tattooing.
&
nbsp; I couldn’t make out what any of the designs actually were in the low light, but the way they curved and dipped over his tricep, shoulder, collarbone, and right side of his chest took my breath away. I seriously couldn’t decide whether I wanted him to cover my body with his again or sit and stare at him forever.
Of course, there would be plenty of time to ogle his tattoos later. Then my brain got in the way.
There won’t be a later, Joey. He is your business class partner, and you are horny as hell. This’ll probably be a one-time thing.
Even as I thought that, my heart twisted.
Luckily, Hawk didn’t let my mind run wild for too long — he tore open the condom and rolled it on before lowering himself over me.
He kissed me again, so hungrily that just his desire for me was making me hotter, wetter, more desperate for him to be inside me. When his solid heat pressed between my legs and my hips rose to meet him, I thought he would devour me, groaning into my mouth. I decided that, no matter what else happened, I would remember that feeling, of being powerful and vulnerable and brave and the sexiest girl alive all at once.
His fingers plucked at the side of my panties. But with his boxers already off and him at the ready, there was no way I wanted to take the time to actually pull my legs out of them.
“Tear them,” I growled.
He looked at me, half-smiling, with eyebrows up. “Really?”
“Please,” I gasped as his steel length pressed against the hot spot where I needed it so badly I could burst.
I watched the muscles in his shoulder flex and felt the quick sting of cotton strings tearing away from my body.
His hands moved to my hips, while my thighs wrapped around his waist and my ankles crossed behind him, anchoring me to him. He slid against me, teasing and promising all at once, driving me insane, the slick pressure setting every cell in my body aflame and sending wild thoughts through my head of what I would promise this guy who could make my body feel so incredible before the deed was even done. I wanted him so badly that when he finally, finally pressed in, filling me slowly but insistently, I almost sobbed with relief. Pleasure shot through me in every direction, the sense of wholeness and euphoria flooding my veins.
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