by Fawkes, Sara
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Three Little Words by Lauren Hawkeye
Copyright © 2013 by Lauren Hawkeye
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Chapter One- Two Years Ago
MAL
She was back.
I leaned back in the uncomfortable library chair in what I hoped was a casual manner. I stretched,
something I actually needed to do after five hours hunched over my textbooks, but I was really just
using the movement as an excuse to stare.
An excuse to stare at her.
After weeks of studying her in quick looks and hidden glances, there shouldn’t have been anything
new to see, yet I found my gaze dragged to her anyway.
Her hair was long, a riot of silky waves that made my fingers itch to touch. Those waves were so
red that they couldn’t have been natural, but it still suited her.
In contrast, her skin was pale, a creamy white that looked like it never saw the sun. Lots of it was
visible, since she wore tight, low slung jeans and some skimpy little top with straps no wider than a
piece of spaghetti. Yep, wide expanses of skin open to my hungry eyes.
Even more than the skin, I was fascinated by the ink that was etched onto it.
Brightly colored flowers sleeved her arms. I didn’t have a clue what kinds they were, but I knew
that they suited her.
I wanted to run my fingers over them, to trace the brilliant, gem colored petals and stems. It was
an urge that didn’t sit comfortably. No matter how hot she was, girls with tattoos weren’t my type.
I’d had ‘my type’ carved out for me since birth.
Tugging my stare away, I looked back at my textbook. The black print and yellow highlighter
swam in front of my eyes. I blinked once, hard, and snuck another quick glance at her.
This time she was looking back. The expression on her face, in those insanely blue eyes was
slightly mocking, daring me to say something, or even to just smile.
A jolt rocketed through me as I felt myself pulled into the intensity of that stare. I tried to open my
mouth, to say something, but the words stuck in my throat.
Finally I tore my stare away, mortified. I felt my cheeks flush, not such a manly look for a dude.
I seriously had to get this... obsession, or whatever it was... under control, or I was going to have to
find a new place to study. Though I still didn’t understand why she hung out here, in the law library.
She could have been prelaw, I supposed, but I’d certainly never seen her in any of my classes. I would
have noticed. Not to mention that... well... she just didn’t look like law school was her big calling.
There were exceptions, true enough, but most of the people that I crammed into those massive lecture
theatres with were a bit more on the conservative side than the redheaded goddess seated down the
table.
More conservative... more like me.
Focus, I told myself, trying to shake her from my mind. It didn’t matter how much she fascinated
me, nothing was ever going to happen in that direction. I wasn’t even sure that I wanted it to.
She was hot. I wanted her. But I couldn’t imagine us together. I had a preconceived notion of my
life, a five year plan, and a sexy redhead with tattoos didn’t fit into it.
The scent hit me first. Wild and sweet, the perfume teased the insides of my nose, heated my gut.
I swallowed thickly, bracing myself, then looked up to find the gorgeous creature from my most
prurient daydreams, sitting across the table from me.
“Hey,” she said, and her voice was exactly like I’d pictured it, smoky and full of sex.
“Hi.” My own voice sounded strangled. I took a deep breath, exhaled through my nose, and tried to
calm the fuck down.
“Don’t you ever take a break?” She leaned over and drummed her fingers on the open page of my
textbook. Those ropes of red hair brushed over the tops of her breasts as she did, and I had a sudden
mental picture of that vivid scarlet against the heat of my cock.
Bad Mal. Focus.
“Well?” She repeated her question, and I blinked, struck dumb by the twilight zone of having the
object of my affection actually talking to me.
And now that she was, she was going to think I was a total dumb ass.
“I have a lot of studying to do.” Man, that sounded lame. I settled back in my chair and raked a
hand through my chestnut colored hair, which was likely sticking straight up after so many hours in
the library. “Prelaw. You know.”
“I don’t, actually. I’m in nursing.” She tossed that long hair over her shoulder, and I watched,
mesmerized, as the breasts revealed by that skimpy top jiggled with the movement. “I just like to
study here.”
Pinning me with a look that I couldn’t tear myself away from, she grinned and sank her teeth into
her lower lip. “It’s got a great view.”
Holy hell. Did that mean what I thought it meant?
“Don’t you have to study in nursing? Isn’t that why you’re here?” Way to go, Mal. I flinched
inwardly as the most boring words ever poured out of my mouth.
But that was me—studious. Driven. Headed for an Ivy League law school, ideally the one my
father had attended so many years ago.
In a word... boring.
I thought she’d make a face, one of those ones that girls do when they suddenly realize that the guy
they’ve been talking to is a complete dud. Instead she surprised me by tilting her chair back and
laughing. I didn’t get the impression that she was laughing at me.
“Yes, I have to study.” She grinned and let the chair fall flat again, the resultant thunk echoing
through the silence of the library. “But I believe in taking breaks from time to time.”
I had no idea what to say to that, so I just nodded my head like an idiot.
Leaning forward like she was about to share a deep, dark secret with me, she pointed to the front of
the library. The entire wall and doors were made of glass, with a clear view of the street and campus
beyond.
“See that building across the street? The shit brown one?” She pointed; I squinted. I didn’t see as
well with my contacts in as I did when I wore my glasses, but the guys in my fraternity poked fun at
me when I wore the thick plastic frames.
I nodded again, warily, not sure where she was going with this.
“I live there. I have coffee. And I’m heading there right now.” She stood, the neon lights of the
library illuminating those floral tattoos.
Why was I so drawn to those tattoos?
When I tore my gaze from the ink to look at her face, I found that she was watching me with
amusement. “Interested?”
“I—” I sputtered a bit, wishing so hard to be cooler than I was. At first I thought she was calling
me on my bullshit, asking me if I was interested in her.
I didn’t lie. I was crazy interested, even if I didn’t want to be. She was like a bright butterfly
flitting through the black and white television s
how that was my life.
She quirked an eyebrow at me when she caught my quizzical look, and I realized she was referring
to the coffee she’d offered. She cast another grin my way, then started to gather up her stuff. I stood,
reaching out and catching her around the waist before she walked away.
The thin cotton of her tank top stood between my fingers and her skin, but the flash of heat that
passed between us burned me.
“Wait. What’s your name?” Slowly I let my fingers fall. It was hard to break the contact.
She watched my hand fall, then studied me for a moment, as if trying to see inside my head.
“I’m Adele.” She cocked her head to one side, clearly waiting for me to reciprocate.
“Malachi. Mal. Malachi Hunter.” Man, why did I feel like I was trying to speak a different
language around her? I tried to phrase my next sentence in my head before blurting it out, but she
winked at me and turned to saunter across the library floor, heading towards that front door.
“See you if I see you, Mal.”
I sat back down in my seat and watched her walk away. She had one of the sexiest asses I’d ever
seen, and my mouth watered.
Why had she invited me over? Was it really for coffee? Or was it for something more?
I had no business going to find out, and yet I barely had time to wonder before my body found
itself slamming my textbook closed and throwing my things into my backpack.
I could tell myself that she wasn’t my type all I wanted, but the fact remained that I couldn’t wait
to find out.
ADELE
My breath hitched in my throat when I heard the knock on my door.
Sucking in a breath through my nose, I studied the cheap, plain doorknob before slowly reaching
out, turning it in my hand.
I hadn’t thought he would actually come. Yet the tiny possibility that he might had set my nerves
to a low level hum.
I didn’t know what it was about him that drew me the way it did. Apart from the geek chic thing he
had going on, or maybe because of it, he was one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen in my life, and I
wanted to devour him whole.
But there was something else... something that made me want to wrap my arms around him, to tell
him why I was the perplexing person that I was, why I’d run from the mother who’d put her husband
first and a stepdaddy who’d wanted complete control.
But Malachi Hunter would freeze like a deer in the headlights if I did embrace him. Guys like him
didn’t get involved with girls who had tattoos along their arms, who dyed their hair bright red and
wore leather jackets. No, guys like him dated girls who wore khaki skirts and sweater sets and who
smiled all the time.
He’d surprised me by actually showing up.
Those fluttering nerves flared to life when I slowly opened the door and found that he was indeed
standing there. He looked liked a freaking Abercrombie and Fitch model in his pricey jeans and polo
shirt, his leather book bag slung casually over his shoulder.
Well... it looked casual, but I noted the way his fingers dug into the canvas. He was nervous.
So was I. I’d been watching him, wanting him, for weeks. I liked the fact that he was nervous too,
but I wondered if he was scared of girls in general or me in particular. Either way, I covered it up with
a smirk and leaned against the door jamb with my hip.
“Nice guess, Abercrombie.” My heart stuttered a bit when he cocked his head at me and the cords
in his neck stood out.
“The knocker was my first clue.” He gestured to the vintage frame that I’d spray painted hot pink,
doused liberally with glitter, and hung on the ugly ass grey of the entrance to my apartment. In a one
floor building with only ten units, it stood out, just the way I wanted it to.
Never again would I try to fit into the mold that others carved out for me. It only ever brought me
pain.
Reaching out, I hooked a finger in the canvas strap that was digging into that broad shoulder of his
and tugged gently. Fuck, but he was built. From some of the friends that had stopped by the library to
see him while he was studying, I assumed he played on one of the school’s athletic teams.
The physicality of whatever sport it was had served him well, and I looked him over thoroughly
and obviously as I gestured for him to come inside. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he followed me into
the small, dingy apartment I called home.
“So,” I started, gesturing for him to take his shoes off and leave them in the front entryway. “Why
are you here?”
I enjoyed the confusion that washed over his too gorgeous to be believed face—I got a perverse
pleasure out of perplexing people. I had ever since the mom I’d once loved stopped noticing me, even
when I was screaming for help.
Instead of stuttering or just backing right back out the door, he answered, which made his esteem
rise in my eyes.
“Didn’t you invite me?” Those brilliant blue eyes of his were surrounded by lashes far too long
and thick to fairly belong to a guy. The stare emanating out of them was fixed on me.
Dude was shy, but had guts.
It was sexy as hell.
“Why are you here, Malachi?” I wondered if he would get what I meant, and the smallest thread of
insecurity snaked its way through my body.
Those intelligent eyes of his narrowed, and he nodded in acknowledgement of what I both was and
wasn’t asking.
“You’re... interesting.” He said, his voice thickening just the slightest bit. That husky sound sent a
shiver running down my spine. Made the heated space between my legs ache.
Sometimes it helped to fill the empty space inside of me with a warm body, with kisses and
caresses, even if they didn’t mean anything.
This guy... he seemed different. I was intrigued.
“Bingo, smarty pants.” I didn’t feel nearly as cocky as I sounded when I winked at him and pushed
myself off of the wall that I’d been leaning on.
He was so not my type, and I wasn’t labouring under any kind of delusion that I was his, either.
But there was a little something between us.
I was pleased that he hadn’t denied it.
“Well, I could use some coffee, too.”
I cast a look over my shoulder, amused. He had dropped his book bag at the front door and was
following me, hands stuffed in his pockets. He was looking around, taking in his surroundings.
For a brief moment I wondered what he thought, because I had decorated my apartment to be an
extension of my own eclectic self. No leather couches or beige walls for me—I’d had enough of that
shit before I’d left home at seventeen.
I watched him look around, and after a quick pang of worry I deliberately shrugged the feeling
away.
Either he liked me the way I was, or he didn’t. Full stop. I’d wasted too many miserable years
trying to be someone I wasn’t.
“What do you take in your coffee?” Gesturing to one of the mismatched bar stools that lined my
kitchen counter, I rummaged in my fridge, the cool air a welcome sensation on my heated cheeks. “I
have skim milk or some hazelnut creamer.”
When I straightened back up, the fridge door closing behind me with an embarrassingly loud
creak, I found Mal eyeing my roller skates, which I had unceremoniously dumped in a corner of the
&
nbsp; kitchen after the last time I’d used them.
He looked perplexed, and I grinned a bit to myself before sliding the two cartons in my hand down
the counter to him.
“Mal? Your coffee?” I pulled two mismatched cups from my cupboard, then ladled instant grounds
and boiling water into each. I had a coffeepot, but I liked the cheap stuff.
I kept the mug that said Sarcasm Still Loading for myself. His featured a T-Rex drinking from a
dainty teacup with his dino pinkie in the air.
Mal accepted his cup, and I thought his lips might have twitched a bit when he looked at the design
on it. He didn’t comment on it as he poured a generous glop of hazelnut creamer into the steaming
liquid, instead gesturing towards my skates.
“Roller skates? That’s unusual.” His voice didn’t hold any of the censure that I often heard when
people told me I was different, that judgement that made me sizzle with satisfaction before crashing
headlong into disappointment. No, in its place was pure curiosity, and I found that I liked it.
A lot.
“It’s good exercise.” In actuality, roller skating was something I’d done a lot with my mom as a
kid, and was my last link to her. Trying to play it cool, I shrugged and lifted my mug to my lips. The
coffee was still close to boiling, and it scalded my tongue.
Mal said nothing, just continued to watch me with those amazing eyes. I stared right back as he
assessed me. I felt like maybe I should be irritated as he made no bones about the fact that he was
trying to figure me out.
I wasn’t upset, though if he’d just asked I could have told him that I wasn’t nearly as complicated
as most people thought. A creature of impulse, I did whatever felt good.
Still, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to yank on his chain.
“You know, I’m not an animal in a zoo.” I smirked when he blinked at me—I had startled him.
“I wasn’t—I mean, I don’t—” Clearly flustered, he ran his hand over his hair, his expression
sheepish. Inhaling deeply, he pinned me with that look again—that look that made me feel like I was
the only girl in the world.
I didn’t even want to admit to myself how much I liked that feeling. No one had ever looked at me
like that before.
I hadn’t known I’d wanted them to.
“You’re just interesting. One of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.” He waited, watchful.
