Stone Sober: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 3)

by Gwyn McNamee

  It’s good advice but really, it’s unneeded. I don’t have any plans to act on this weird attraction between me and Stone. Why did I expect them to understand the pull between us when I don’t even get it? It’s just one more thing to remind me that my supposed high I.Q. doesn’t mean anything in the real world, just like it didn’t after I got out of high school.

  I’m twenty-one years old. I’m a stripper. And I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Stone is just another wrench I don’t need thrown in right now. Telling myself I’m happy doing what I’m doing has kept me going for a while now, and I’m not about to let it stop because a handsome guy shows me some interest and gets my heart racing. And I’m going to try to forget the way he seems to know me at my core unlike anyone ever has before.

  Stone will just have to find some other woman to flatter with his sexy grins and dreamy, lustful looks.

  I’m fine where I am and how I am.

  For now.

  I don’t know whether I want to hurl or kill someone…mainly Dom.

  How the fuck could he threaten to kill Savage and Gabe? They are practically his family. Fuck that, we are his only family. His own wife and kid didn’t stay, but Mom treats him like a brother and we’ve always stood by him even though his lifestyle has never been exactly upstanding. Yet, he did it.

  The anger roils my stomach and heats the blood in my veins. I don’t even bother waiting for the elevator, instead I charge down the stairs and into the back hallway of the club.

  My chest tightens, and I heave in deep breaths to no avail.

  Air. I need air.

  Thank God the back door is right here. I don’t think I’d make it through the club to the front.

  The door slams against the outside brick wall when I throw it open.

  The drizzle has turned into a full-fledge downpour, but I couldn’t fucking care less.

  Let the cold rain cool my temper.

  Or at least try.

  I step out into the alley behind the club and pace, because I can’t think of a single other thing to do right now. Everything is such a jumbled mess. None of it makes sense.

  What the fuck was Dom thinking?

  I just can’t wrap my head around what Savage and Gabe told me. Dani wasn’t a real threat to him. The information she gathered would never have been enough to take Dom down legally. She may have caused some waves with a newspaper article, and it may have sent the Feds, and even the local P.D., sniffing around in places they had never thought to look before, but there was no definitive evidence of any direct wrongdoing on Dom’s part.

  He would have walked away, with barely a scratch and maybe a dent to his network.

  But instead of talking to her, reasoning with her, he tried to kill her…

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Of course, I heard about Matteo and Dom’s other guys getting killed, but fuck if Savage and Gabe didn’t do an amazing job covering up their involvement in that shit. To be honest, I wasn’t really aware of what was happening back here when it occurred. I was too wrapped up in studying for the bar and starting work at the firm. Maybe if I had been paying attention, I wouldn’t have been blindsided tonight.

  Now I get it…the animosity Savage, Gabe, Dani, and even Skye have thrown my way with regard to me working for Dom. As far as they’re concerned, I’ve sold my soul to the Devil himself.

  And this peace they’ve brokered…there’s no way that shit’s gonna hold. Not if they keep telling people about it.

  Jesus FUCKING Christ.

  All they had to do was stay quiet, but they’ve already told me and Skye. Who’s next? Storm and Ben? Mom?

  If she finds out…

  I shove my hands back through my wet hair and drop my forehead against the damp bricks. She won’t survive this, losing him. He’s her best friend and the only one who stood by her after Dad died. I was only five. All my memories of Dad can probably be counted on one hand. But Dom, he was there. Always. For whatever any of us needed. He rescued me from some pretty shitty stuff more times than I can count. He paid for my fucking law school, for fuck’s sake.

  And now, I’m indebted to him, and so fucking intertwined, there’s no way to get out even if I tried. You don’t walk away from Dom Abello. You leave in a body bag.

  “ARGH!” I bellow out my frustration and pound my forehead into the wall.

  There’s no fucking way I can let this go. I have to talk to Dom. But if I go now, I’ll do or say something I’ll regret, something that could get me in an even worse situation. Something that would likely get me and the rest of those I love killed.

  “Stone?”

  Her voice barely registers over the now driving rain and the blood rushing in my ears. If it were anyone else, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

  Nora though…all she has to do is say my name and it’s like a fucking lightning bolt straight to my cock.

  “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

  I turn to her and run my hands over my wet face. “Trying to find my sanity.”

  She cocks her head, and rain drips down off the side of her face. Her body trembles in the cool air.

  “Shit Nora, get inside out of the rain.”

  Instead of following my order, she narrows her eyes at me and steps closer, glancing briefly at the door hanging awkwardly on its hinges.

  Fuck, I hope I didn’t break it.

  “What’s going on? I know you were upstairs meeting with Savage and Gabe. Is something wrong?”

  I’ve never wanted to laugh and cry so much at the same fucking time. What isn’t wrong is a better question.

  In less than two months, I’ve gone from practicing at one of the largest and most esteemed firms in California to becoming the fixer for a mob boss who tried to kill several members of my fucking family.

  And I couldn’t tell Nora about it even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. It would only drag her into an already deadly situation.

  I close the distance between us, until there’s less than six inches separating our wet bodies.

  “Nothing you need to worry about, Nora. Go back inside. You’re going to get sick standing out in the rain in this.”

  Like I could miss the way the flimsy gown she’s wearing turned even more transparent in the rain. My fingers tingle wanting to trace every damn curve the dress is clinging to. Through the dark storm swirling in my head, she’s a beacon of light.

  She shivers and licks water away from her lips.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  And freezing.

  I’m cold out here in a full suit; she’s basically naked. I glance up at the video camera attached near the back door.

  Please let Savage and Gabe be too busy to be watching.

  “Come with me.”

  He reaches out and wraps his arm around my shoulders so quickly, I barely realize what’s happening.

  It’s absolutely freezing out here, so when he tugs me to his side and walks us back to the open door of the club, I don’t offer any protest. The heat of his body warms me even through his soaked clothing, and I huddle closer to him as we approach the door.

  This is bad.

  When I heard the door slam and a scream and came out to investigate, the last thing I expected was to find Stone having a meltdown in the rain.

  He’s always so controlled and stoic, except when he’s making sexual innuendos and giving me panty-melting smirks. Finding him on the edge of an apparent breakdown has my stomach twisted in knots.

  What could Savage and Gabe have said to him that would have set him off?

  There’s tension there, that much was obvious the few times I’ve seen them all together, but I’ve never seen Stone like this.

  It’s almost like he’s…lost.

  With his hand on the small of my back, he ushers me into the back hallway and down toward the dressing room. I glance back to the still-open back door but don’t have time to mention it to Stone before he’s pushing me into one o
f the bathrooms.

  The door clicking shut behind us echoes in the small space.

  My eyes meet his in the mirror above the sink. I’m suddenly very aware his hand is still pressed against my back and how close he is to me. Heat radiates off him and warms my chilled skin.

  Why are we in here?

  I hope he’s going to tell me what’s going on, but this is an odd place to have a chat.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stills behind me, his eyes darkening and swirling with something—not uncertainty, it’s more like…resignation?

  One step has him pressing his hard body against mine. His lips find the sensitive skin of my neck, and a shudder rolls through me with the hot breath that floats over my skin. The hand at my back slides around to grip my left hip while the other skims over the thin, see-through, wet fabric barely covering my stomach. His fingers creep up under the hem of the wholly obsolete slip of lace, and he cups my core.

  Goddangit.

  “Warming you up.”

  The words are like a lightning bolt straight to my clit, and I can’t help my body from arching into him, seeking more of his touch.

  His eyes hold mine in the mirror, almost daring me to look away, while he slips his fingers into my barely there thong and brush against my now wet flesh.

  He sucks in a breath, and his hand tightens on my hip before he slips the tip of his finger inside me.

  “Oh…God…”

  I barely recognize my own voice. His growl in response vibrates against my back and through my ears.

  The finger presses into me slowly. My body quivers, and I clench around it, grasping for more. He groans and adds another finger, eliciting a strangled gasp from me. I close my eyes and drop my head back against his shoulder.

  His ministrations still.

  “No, eyes on me.”

  It’s not a request. It’s a command. One I don’t consider resisting for even a second.

  I snap them open and meet his commanding gaze again in the mirror. He glances down to where his hand is moving under the see-through material, and my eyes follow his.

  God, that’s so hot.

  He adds his thumb to the mix, and my eyes snap up to connect with his again. My hips move in time with his pumping fingers, rolling and arching despite the firm grip he maintains on me.

  A very hard, very prominent bulge presses into my lower back, just above my ass.

  My fingers itch to touch him, to hold that hot flesh in my hands, but he’s maintaining such a tight grip on me, I can’t move away enough to get my hand in between us.

  Instead, his pumping, driving rhythm has me clawing at his arms. If it weren’t for this dang suit, the evidence of my wild thrashing would be all over his skin.

  I should be questioning this, fighting this, telling him to back away and leave me the heck alone, but my body demands what he’s giving me. His touch ignites a deep, burning need in me long forgotten, or at least, pushed aside.

  “Stone…please…”

  My words don’t have the desired effect. Instead of pushing me over the edge and giving me what I crave, his hand stills, and he shoves his hard dick against my back forcefully.

  I plead with my eyes, begging him to resume his expert touch, but he just stares at me. It’s impossible not to squirm under his intense scrutiny. My core clenches around his fingers almost of its own accord, silently imploring him to finish what he started.

  He finally grins and begins again in earnest.

  H. E. Double Hockey Sticks…

  I’m going to come, and I’m going to come hard.

  This isn’t a gentle, loving touch. Not at all. This is rough and almost angry. Though I don’t know if it’s at me or whatever situation sent him out into the rainy alley in the first place.

  And frankly, right now, with my orgasm hovering just on the periphery, I don’t really care.

  His fingers pump and stretch while his thumb swirls and presses in an expert pattern that sends wildfire raging through every fiber of my being. My legs quiver, and my arms shake. Keeping my eyes open and trained on his becomes a nearly impossible task when all they want to do is roll up in my head. But, somehow, I know if I let that happen, he’s going to stop.

  I wouldn’t survive that.

  Wildfire becomes a violent inferno—all centered where his hand is probing my body. He presses his lips to the side of my neck, just under my ear. His panting breaths match mine.

  The wave of the fire storm crests, and I can’t fight it. My eyes roll closed and fireworks ignite against my lids as pleasure ripples through my body.

  Those magnificent fingers don’t stop moving until I release a heavy breath and sag back against him. When his hand finally stills, I open my eyes, and through the post-orgasmic haze, meet his in the mirror.

  Dang. That was…

  His gaze darkens and hardens. He pulls free of my body and takes a step back before scrubbing his left hand over his face.

  “Shit.”

  One word.

  Then he’s out the door before I can even react.

  What the Devil just happened?

  The pounding of my feet on the pavement does nothing to relieve the tension still permeating my body. After last night, a ten mile run seemed like the only potential way to clear my head and maybe alleviate the pressure and anxiety building since I saw Nora…since I touched her.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  I wasn’t.

  That’s precisely the problem.

  After learning about what Dom did, all rational thought went out the window. All I wanted was to forget…all I wanted was her.

  I don’t know how I managed to stop myself from yanking my pants down and pumping into her over that damn bathroom counter. That had to be the most restraint I’ve ever had. Her warm, wet heat clasping around my fingers almost made me come in my pants.

  And now, my damn cock stirs to life just thinking about it.

  Jesus. Is it even possible to think about her without getting hard?

  I pause and lean against a lamppost to catch my breath and give my dick time to deflate before I finish my run. Sweat pours down my face and over my bare chest and back. Even at ten in the morning, and with the cooler fall temperatures, I’m drenched.

  Several heaving breaths later, I resume the incessant thump thump thump against the street and make my way back into my neighborhood. Riverbend is exactly where I always wanted to live growing up, and busting my ass has allowed me to afford a house here. The mix of Tulane and Loyola students and other young professionals makes for eclectic neighbors and the restaurants around here can’t be beaten. Plus, the houses are gorgeous.

  By the time my house comes into view, my breathing is nothing more than gasping pants. I sag down onto the top step of my porch and drop my face into my hands.

  That can’t happen again.

  I can’t lose control around her.

  There can’t be any reason to give her false hope that this can happen between us.

  It’s not fair to her to let her believe we can ever be together.

  The honk of a horn draws my head up, and I wave at the neighbor from across the street.

  What’s his name? Billy? Bob? Billy Bob?

  I should probably know that. But frankly, in the handful of weeks I’ve been in this house, I’ve been so busy unpacking, straightening out Dom’s cluster fucks, and dealing with my family shit, I haven’t bothered to spend much time getting to know anyone living around me.

  It’s not like I can give them a tour of the house anyway. Well, at least not without locking the door of the master bedroom.

  Too much explaining I don’t want to have to do.

  I heave out a sigh and drag my ass inside to chug a bottle of water and then head straight into the shower.

  Cold water is the only option.

  I’m too hot to tolerate even a luke-warm stream.

  The water cools my skin, but the image of Nora bent over in my shower fills my head
and brings my cock to full attention. By the time I made it home last night, I was such an emotional mess, I finished off a bottle of Balvenie and crashed.

  Christ…

  What kind of fucking perv jerks off at my age? But Nora’s gasps and moans last night echoing in my head don’t leave me much choice. I need the release, the relief from the pressure that’s been building and threatening to explode.

  I fist my hard cock and squeeze it until it’s almost painful before stroking it slowly root to tip. My palm glides over the head, and my hips buck in response. The cool water doesn’t tame my libido, it just stings against my heated skin.

  That damn sugar cookie scent fills my nostrils and brings with it the breathy sounds she made last night. My hand strokes fast…harder. Every brush of my palm over the aching head of my cock sends a zing of heat straight to my throbbing balls. I slap my other hand against the wall to hold myself up.

  Remembering the way her pussy clenched and rippled around my fingers when she came is all I need to send an orgasm racing through me. My legs shake, and my hand stutters in its rhythm as I shoot my load against the tile of the shower.

  “Jesus fucking Christ…” I pant under the icy water until the quivering and tingling in my limbs subsides.

  How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

  I’ve done everything I can to stay away from her, to keep her away from me. Yet, I still ended up fist deep in her pussy last night. She was there when I was weak and reeling from what Savage told me, it’s the only explanation for my behavior, and I can’t fall into that trap again. I can’t let my desire for Nora override what I know is right…staying away from her.

  Even if it won’t be easy.

  I soap up and relish my time in the cool water.

  Now, all I want to do is towel off and collapse into bed. I’m beat. The lack of sleep—which can be directly blamed on Dom and Nora—is wreaking havoc on me. My ten mile run felt like a full marathon. And since I don’t have anywhere I need to be today, I plan on taking advantage by crashing for a few hours.