Hawke

by Sawyer Bennett

  I was more than highly entertained, though. My heart purely throbbed with adoration of what he was doing, dredging up a ton of emotion within me. This is not new or odd, because I've been in a constantly swirling pool of emotion since Hawke came back into my life.

  Forty-two days ago, I saw him in the team meeting room on the first day of training camp. My heart ached all over again for everything lost.

  Twenty-eight days ago I broke up with Todd. My heart ached for that too, but it also thumped in acute awareness of Hawke and what it meant that he was back in my life.

  Twenty-five days ago, my dad had a seizure and Hawke was there to support me. I felt part of my heart succumb to him right then and there, while the other part remained reserved and cautious. We still had too many secrets between us.

  Twenty-one days ago, he made love to me and I told him the truth of why I had cut him out of my life. I watched him weep for a loss that was new and raw while I had had years to cope. I received his understanding and forgiveness. He let go of his hurt, and I decided to let go of mine. At that time, my heart threw caution to the wind and became enslaved to him once more. In just three short weeks, it belonged to the only man who should have it. This was despite Michelle surprising us that night, which is something we ultimately ended up laughing about, and Hawke was right...she was cool. But it was also made clear to her that he had no more place in her life. I was back and intending to stay.

  "Let me stay," Hawke whispers in my ear as his hand moves from my hip to my belly.

  What? Huh?

  His hand snakes under my T-shirt, skims his fingers in such a way over my skin that a wake of prickly bumps remains behind. Sliding farther upward, his hand reaches for and cups my breast, squeezing gently. His lips brush my ear, and he asks again, "Please, Vale. Let me stay the night."

  I shake my head in denial, because it would be just too weird him sleeping here with my father across the hall. And if we were just sleeping, fine, he can stay. But I know Hawke. I know me. We wouldn't be just sleeping. We'd be all over and up in each other, and that gets noisy. We're a noisy couple. Always have been. I'd die if my dad heard that.

  "Come on, baby," he implores, his hand now moving south. He bypasses the waistband of my jeans, ignores the button and zipper, and goes straight in between my legs, grinding his palm against me.

  "Oh, God," I whisper out on a long exhale of breath.

  He chuckles, bites my earlobe, and grinds again. "See...you want me to stay. You want this."

  Oh, holy hell did I want it!

  But my hand went to his, grabbed his wrist, and halted his actions. "I do want it, but not here. My dad will hear us."

  "We can be quiet," he cajoles, but keeps his hand still.

  "There's no way we can be quiet," I tell him firmly. "You know that. You know it gets loud. I can't help but scream when you make me come."

  My words pour out quickly and with a near-panicked tinge at the thought of my dad listening to us. I mean, realistically, I'm an adult and I can certainly have sex with Hawke without an ounce of shame, but ewww...just no. I can't do it with my dad in the apartment.

  "We can go to your house," I say as I'm struck with sudden brilliance, because I do want him badly.

  Hawke's hand pulls away from between my legs, his arm comes around my stomach, and he squeezes me in a hug. "No. It's getting late and we're not driving all the way to my house just to fuck, and then turn around and have you come back home."

  "But--" I argue, because I really, really want him. Hawke has to know that my reluctance is due solely to the proximity of my dad and not because I don't want it. I'm pretty sure I'll always want it where he's concerned.

  "No buts," he says, and then squeezes me again. "And I think we can go one night without having sex."

  "No! No we can't," I argue, and that starts us both laughing softly so as not to wake up my father.

  For a moment, we lay like that.

  Spooning.

  Hugging.

  Laughing.

  And everything is perfect in my world.

  I can't believe how strong my feelings have become over the last few weeks. While my heart decided to give up its freedom that night we first made love, the feelings have only grown stronger over the last few weeks. Our days are filled with a sweet normalcy. We see each other at work. We joke. We text each other. He asks how my day is going, and he worries over how hard I work. I praise his game play, take joy in his reconnection to old friends like Oliver, and continually admire the man he has become.

  I'm falling in love all over again, and it's just beautiful to me.

  "So," Hawke drawls out, a means to introduce another idea to me. "If we just slept together, no sex, no hanky-panky, no nothing to cause you to scream out...I can stay the night?"

  And I didn't think my heart could get any more gooey where he's concerned, but it literally flops over and melts at the fact he wants to just sleep with me tonight.

  "Yeah, you can stay the night," I whisper, my voice clogged with embarrassing emotion, so I cough to clear it.

  "Awesome," he says in a surfer dude's exaggerated accent. "And for the record, I can control myself, unlike you, and be quiet during any type of...um...sexual ministrations you might want to perform on me."

  "Is that right?" I ask with a laugh.

  I flip over on the couch so I'm facing him, and drape my left arm over his waist. I have to tilt my head back a little to meet his gaze, and his smile is bright and his eyes sparking with amusement.

  "This is cool," I say carefully, not wanting to get too sappy with him, but wanting to push around the edges to see if I can glean anything about the state of his own attitude toward me. While we have spent the last few weeks reconnecting and falling into some patterns as a couple, we've also diligently stayed away from the topic of our feelings. I try to remember back to the first time Hawke and I said the L-word to each other, and I remember vividly that I said it first. We were on a free period from school, it was a crisp fall day, and we were sitting under a large elm tree on campus. We were both studying for a calculus test. He was sitting cross-legged on a blanket, and I was on my stomach, my book opened up before me. He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear--the side that wasn't shaved--and said, "You are the most beautiful girl in the world."

  I never thought twice and just blurted it out. "I love you."

  He grinned and said it right back to me, no hesitation whatsoever.

  It almost makes me want to say it again, but I hold my tongue. At this point, I'm too afraid of rejection and just as fearful that perhaps this is all moving a little too fast.

  "This is totally cool," he agrees. "Just hanging with my girl, watching a scary movie, and eating myself sick on Snickers."

  I like that.

  My girl.

  "What did Max end up doing tonight?" I ask as I snuggle into him, tucking my head up under his chin. His arms wrap tighter around me. We had invited Max to hang with us but he declined. We've actually been doing a lot with him lately. He and Hawke have become pretty close buds and he's taken to working out with me and Max during our conditioning sessions. Max is killing it in the net so far this season, but he seems driven to be become better and better. I think the memory of missing last season due to an injury and then Ryker filling in and taking top spot is what's fueling him.

  Hawke gives a slight shrug to his shoulders. "No clue. Said he had plans, though."

  "Plans?" I say with surprise. Max is even more of a homebody than I am. As far as I know, the man trains, plays hockey, eats, and sleeps. That's it. "Do you think he has a date?"

  "Babe," Hawke says with a dramatic drawl. "I'm a dude. He's a dude. We don't talk about stuff like that."

  "Yes, you do," I argue as I tip my head back and tilt my face to once again look up at him because I know guys most certainly talk about stuff like that. They have to.

  "Rest assured," he says blandly. "We don't. But even if we did, I wouldn't tell you. That would be a vi
olation of the bro code."

  Hmmm. That I don't like. Seven years ago, when Hawke and I were together, there were no secrets between us. Well, at least not until that night. No bro code would stand in the way of him telling me something. His trust in me was absolute, and he would have shared any and all tidbits. He would have done so knowing I would keep secrets locked and secure.

  The mere fact he's throwing the bro code at me now tells me that no matter how great I think things are currently, there are still trust issues to mend. But now is not the time, so I change subjects.

  I push up and out of Hawke's embrace, murmuring, "Roll on your back."

  He cocks an eyebrow at me as he does as requested, and let me just tell you...this man has the perfect set of eyebrows over those piercing eyes. They can roll and arch in such a way to convey high intensity or the thickest amount of skepticism. Either way, it never prevents the brilliancy of his blue irises from lasering at me.

  Now that arch is merely in interest with a sensual tilt to his lips.

  I let him down quickly. "Get that look off your face. We're just talking."

  Throwing a leg over his hips, I straddle his lap so I can look down at him. His hands come up to rest on my thighs and he grins at me sexily, and for the briefest of moments, I think about giving in on my "no sex in the apartment while Dad is in residence" rule. But then Hawke pulls his hands back and tucks them behind his head, shooting me a wink. "What's up?"

  "Dad's been doing really well," I segue into something that has been weighing on my mind.

  "It's been great," Hawke says, his eyes softening at me. "I think it's all going to be okay."

  Now, that I'm not so sure of. We won't know until the next MRI, which is week after next. That will be the one where they expect to see some shrinkage of the tumor, at least according to how prior cases have gone. It will be miraculous if that occurs, so I'm trying not to hinge all of my hopes on it. Still, I can't help needing some feedback on my worries. "The next MRI--"

  "Will show shrinkage," Hawke butts in confidently.

  I give him a smile of appreciation for his positivity and nod. "Yeah...I'm hoping beyond hope for that."

  "Then why does your voice sound all doom and gloom?" he asks, his hands now coming out from under his head and taking my hands. He laces his fingers with mine, lifts one hand to his mouth, and kisses the inside of my wrist.

  Shaking my head in quick denial, I tell him, "I'm not doom and gloom. It's just...if the tumor is shrinking and Dad is otherwise doing okay, then he won't have another MRI after that for another three months. He wants to go back to Sydney, and my lease will be up here, as we only signed a six-month lease. It's just..."

  "You're trying to figure out what to do?" he guesses accurately.

  "I think I should go to Sydney with him, but..."

  My voice trails off.

  But what?

  But I don't want to leave you, Hawke.

  But I don't want to quit my job midseason.

  But I'm not ready to lose what's been regained.

  "...But," I continue as I let my gaze drop, "it brings about a whole set of new complications. I'd need to get a job, and move again. Any new job would have to be flexible so I could travel back to Duke with Dad if necessary. And what if he takes a turn for the worse? And we've given up our home here?"

  "No one said you have to go back to Sydney with him," Hawke says in a gently firm voice. "If your dad is doing good and doesn't need care--which let's face it, Vale, he really doesn't at this point--then let him go back home and you stay here with the Cold Fury."

  My head pops up, wanting to believe the measure of confidence in his suggestion. Would Dad be okay on his own back in Sydney? I mean, right now, there isn't anything he really needs help with. Sure, I cook for him, but that's so we don't starve. Dad was never the best cook. Otherwise, the infection he had three weeks ago notwithstanding, his physical health is actually pretty good. He's even out walking a few miles each day.

  "Stay here?" I ask, just to clarify what Hawke is saying. Or maybe, rather, I'm hoping to glean if there is any vested interest on his part.

  "Why not?" he throws back with a smile. "You like this job, right? Like the area?"

  I nod, because it's all true.

  "You like me, right?" he adds with a slick grin, and his hands drop mine so they can go back to my legs. His palms are warm against the denim of my jeans as he squeezes my thighs.

  With an exaggerated eye roll, I lean over and give him a quick kiss before sitting back up straight. "I guess I kind of like you."

  "Oh, you like me a lot," Hawke says knowingly as he sits up. His arms go around my waist and he leans forward, kissing my neck.

  I more than like you, I think to myself. I love you. In fact, I'm pretty sure I never stopped loving you.

  But those are all sentiments that never get spoken.

  Chapter 23

  Hawke

  Jesus, Vale looks amazing.

  Her hair curled and flowing down past her shoulders. Smoky eye makeup. Lips slick with something pink that I know tastes like peaches because I snuck in a quick kiss not too long ago.

  Speaking of lips.

  Those same lips were wrapped around my cock five nights ago and I haven't been able to get that image out of my head. It was a rare time that she stayed all night at my house, but since I had an extended road game coming up, it didn't take much to convince her. Because I knew it would be a long four days before I'd see her again, I fucked her long and slow, prolonging the experience by pulling out anytime I got close. That meant she'd come twice before I decided to give into the raging lust that was actually making my balls hurt. I blew so hard I thought I might have broken my dick, and she came gloriously a third time.

  I fell asleep that night with my body wrapped tight around hers, eventually settling into the usual spooning position we adopted all those years ago.

  I was awakened the next morning with her mouth on me. The first thing that brought me out of slumber was an electrified jolt of lust that seemed to seize my entire body. My eyes sprang open to find Vale kneeling beside me, one hand laying gently on my stomach, the other wrapped around the base of my cock while she laved her tongue around the head.

  Let me be the first to tell you that Vale always gave good head. She was adventurous and oral sex had always played a big part of our sex life. We were both satisfied at times to not even fuck but to slake our lust with merely our faces between each other's legs. Even though it's been a little over a month since we started having sex, and even though I've eaten her out a lot, her lips have been absent from my cock.

  Not that she hasn't wanted to. It's just that I've usually been so crazy to get her off and then get inside of her that I haven't given her an opportunity. I'm not sure the why of it, but sometimes I feel like time is borrowed with Vale and me, and I can't seem to slow down with her.

  So she took matters into her own hand and gave me the best fucking blow job of my life that morning five nights ago as a way, I'm sure, to torture me over my extended road game. I jacked off a few nights to that memory.

  It would have been easy for me to find a hookup while out on the road. All the single guys do it, and hell, even some of the married guys that are douches do it. But I was content to consider myself in a monogamous relationship with Vale again, even though we haven't necessarily uttered that exact commitment to each other. It's just that I know it to be true and thus was completely content to get myself off rather than find a meaningless fuck.

  "Dude...do you think you could take your eyes off Vale for like maybe thirty seconds or so? We have some catching up to do," Oliver says with a punch to my shoulder.

  I turn to face him with a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

  He chuckles before turning his head to the bartender. With a lift of his hand, he holds up two fingers indicating we want another round. Christ...this one is going to make me officially drunk, but what the hell. I'm celebrating the renewal of my friendship with Oliver toni
ght so it's allowed.

  At least I think it's allowed. It's not like I talked about this with Vale, and I'm not sure I have to. I mean, when we were together before, it was just a given.

  We go out.

  We party.

  We get drunk.

  Surely it's the same now, right?

  I flew in yesterday evening from Tampa and hightailed it to my house, where Vale said she'd be waiting for me. All thoughts of attacking her, possibly dropping her to the floor right in the entryway and fucking her from behind, simply vanished when I walked in and saw her sitting at my kitchen island with a shit-eating grin. My eyes immediately went to her left, where I saw Oliver sitting with a matching shit-eating grin. I didn't think Vale could have surprised me more than by having Oliver come in, but then I was proven wrong as his twin, Avery, walked into the kitchen.

  "Surprise," she said with more of a malevolent smile, and it told me all I needed to know. Avery still didn't like me, and I had to say, the feeling was still mutual on my part.

  Regardless, we all stayed up late last night drinking and catching up. Well, actually, Oliver and I tied one on, sitting on my back deck in the cool November air pounding beers, while Avery and Vale sat in the living room curled up on the sofa and sipping at glasses of wine. Turns out, Vale had only that one glass of wine, which was fortuitous for me because I have a vague recollection of her helping my drunk ass into bed. I woke up this morning to find her gone but a handwritten note on the bedside table.