Tortured Skye: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 2)

by Gwyn McNamee

  Please, don’t let the fucking leather creak.

  I slip my hand down into my leggings and underwear. I drag my middle finger through the wetness pooling there and up around my clit, biting my lip to muffle the moan that threatens to make its way out.

  Gabe groans and the leather of his chair makes the very noise I’m dreading will reveal me.

  Stupid leather furniture.

  Moving as quietly as I can, I swirl my finger around my wet clit while keeping my eyes locked on Gabe. His head is still tossed back, and my mouth waters imagining biting into the straining cords of his neck.

  That man is my kryptonite.

  His breathing picks up, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I increase my pace, pushing myself toward orgasm, not bothering to worry about what will happen once we both come.

  “Oh, shit…Skye…”

  My name falling from his lips is my undoing, and I come, biting the inside of my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out with my release. Pleasure courses through my body, and I struggle not to move on the couch.

  The room is still and quiet as I come down, and my mind finally wraps around what just happened even as my heart continues to race and blood still rushes in my ears.

  Holy shit. Gabe just jerked off and said my name as he came.

  He grunts and reaches for something on his desk. I freeze. How am I going to get out of here without him seeing me?

  His chair creaks as he stands with his back to me. The zipper of his pants breaks the silence of the room before he tosses something in the trash next to his desk. He turns to face the desktop. If he looks up right now, he will be staring directly at me. But he doesn’t. With his palms pressed flat against the desk, he drops his head and releases a low growl.

  The sound rolls through me like thunder. I can practically feel the frustration emanating off him in waves; it invades the still air in the room.

  I know how he feels. I just don’t understand what any of this means.

  After a few moments of holding my breath and praying he doesn’t flip on the lights, he lifts his head and pulls his hands from the desk. He shoves them back through his hair as he makes his way to the door.

  It shuts behind him with a gentle click, leaving me even more confused by the mind fuck of a situation.

  What’s been happening between me and Skye—avoiding and dancing around each other, the lingering heated and dirty looks, not to mention what I did in the office last night—just cannot continue.

  I actually jerked off at fucking work thinking about her. Who the fuck does that?

  A desperate man.

  That’s what I’ve become. I’m so desperate to get her out of my head; I’m willing to do just about anything at this point. Even if it means finally admitting what happened and talking to her face to face about it.

  It’s better than doing nothing because sitting here across from Savage while remembering what I did last night just down the hall is hella unfuckingcomfortable. I can’t even look my best friend in the eye.

  “Everything looked good today, don’t you think?”

  I return my attention to Savage and nod. “Definitely. We should be breaking ground on the restaurant right around the time the club location is finished.” From one project to the next. Expansion of the Hawke brand is great for both of us, but the time it’s taking to build multiple new locations at once is exhausting.

  “We’re still meeting with Ben at the new club tomorrow morning, aren’t we?”

  I nod. “Yeah, as far as I know. I’ll text him to confirm.” At least with Ben there, I’ll have a buffer.

  Savage leans back in his chair and tucks his hands behind his head. “What about Bourbon Street?”

  “What about it?” I know what he’s asking, but I don’t really want to discuss it further. It’s not going to change my mind.

  His eyes narrow at me. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This could be an incredible opportunity for us. Prime locations like this don’t come up every day.”

  “You’re right, they don’t. But it isn’t the right move for us, not if you want to maintain the level of control we have here now.”

  Savage scoffs and drops his hands back to his lap. “That’s bullshit. We can handle anything.”

  “You remember that fight that broke out here last year? Shit like that will be more commonplace in the French Quarter. We’ll have more and more patrons coming in off the street who are wasted or on something and out of control. I don’t want to deal with that, do you?”

  His shoulders fall slightly, and he leans forward, placing his elbows on his desk. “Is there a potential for some complications there? Yes, I admit that, but don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”

  “Savage, you know I love you, man. But, I’ve taken enough risks in my life, I really don’t want to take one in business right now. I’m worn out just trying to handle what we already have going on. We have a good thing going. Let’s revisit this once the other locations are up and running and we have a minute to breathe.”

  He eyes me, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to process what I said and hold back his initial knee-jerk reaction. After a moment, he leans back again. “You’re right. This probably isn’t a good time. The baby will be here before I know it, and I’m not going to want to put in as much time here.”

  Thank fuck he saw the light. “Exactly. And I don’t want to spend more time here than I already do.”

  “I get that. I also see what you’re saying about the loss of control we might have down there. Maybe it’s for the best if we avoid the French Quarter altogether. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to head home for the night. Dani is feeling better, but she’s still exhausted.”

  I climb from my chair and make my way toward the door. “Go.”

  Seeing Savage happy makes up for all the extra work and hours I end up spending here. Four years ago, I don’t think either of us ever thought he’d be where he is now—happily married and expecting a baby.

  I don’t want that, never have, but knowing he did and now has it, makes me happy as shit for him. He deserves it after all he’s been through. We all deserve to be happy, but he most of all. He and Skye. They lost the most. And while I know all of us struggle with Star’s death, it weighs heavily on them in a way that’s unfathomable.

  Skye never would have kissed me if Star had been alive. I’m confident of that. But there’s no point in considering what-ifs.

  It happened. Now, we can’t avoid dealing with the fallout anymore. We’re practically family. We can’t continue to hate each other.

  Oh, come the fuck on…

  My office smells like sex.

  How is that even possible when I’ve never fucked anyone in here? The sticky evidence of last night’s self-love was in a tissue at the bottom of my trashcan, but the trash was emptied this morning. So why does every breath I take in here bring to mind images of hot, sweaty, raunchy sex with Skye?

  Because I am well and truly fucked.

  It doesn’t just smell like sex. Her vanilla and honey scent invades my lungs too, and my cock springs to attention.

  This has to end.

  Tonight’s the night. I have to take action to end this or things will spiral out of control.

  The nicotine demon is already back. Any more stress and I know what will happen—the nightmares will return with a vengeance, and I’ll be right back in Doc’s chair. I never want to need her or that again. Things are good—were good. I need to get them back there.

  A knock on my door almost makes me jump. “Come in.”

  Dawn strolls in—all five foot three of her, plus another five inches of Lucite. She drops down into the chair opposite me, tugging the flowing satin nightgown tighter around her waist.

  “I need to talk to you.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think Renee is still in trouble.”

  My blood simmers, and I lean toward her, clenching my fists on the desk. “What makes y
ou think that?”

  Ever since her baby daddy showed up last week and caused a scene during her shift, I’ve been vigilant in making sure she’s protected. She doesn’t deserve to live in fear of that dickhead. And while I made it crystal clear for him not to come back, they always fucking do. They just can’t seem to stay away.

  “Because I’m pretty sure I saw his truck outside on my way in today.”

  Fucking idiot.

  “Did Renee say anything to you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, but I don’t know if she even saw him. He was parked down the road a bit, probably because he knew if he drove into the parking lot, he would show up on the security cameras.”

  “How long ago did you see him?” If that fucker is stupid enough to come back, maybe he’s stupid enough to sit out there waiting for me to come kick his ass.

  With a shrug, she gets to her feet and makes her way to the door. “I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes? Look, don’t tell Renee I said anything. I just thought you should know.”

  I push away from my desk and stand. “You did the right thing, Dawn. I’ll take care of it.”

  I never thought I’d become my mother, but here I am, baking cookies at midnight because I’m stressed the fuck out and can’t sleep. De-stressing in the kitchen was always her thing.

  When I got off my shift tonight, the only thing I wanted was to crash and sleep for days, but reliving the look on Gabe’s face, and my name coming from his mouth last night has kept me wide awake all night. Wide awake and horny as hell.

  So, cookies.

  And loud, pumping music. My neighbors probably hate me right now, but dancing around my kitchen helps me work off some of this tension and anger.

  Fucking Gabe.

  First, he kisses me, or at least, kisses me back. Then, he pushes me away and pretends nothing happened and there’s nothing there between us. Then, he sends that message. And now, he fucking jerks off thinking about me. I mean…what the ever-loving fuck is that?

  These are the nights I would give anything to have Star back. I need my sounding board, the one person who understands me without me having to say a word. Instead, I have angry rock music and chocolate chip cookie dough—half of which I’ve already eaten before anything is even baked yet.

  I scoop the last remaining bit onto the cookie sheet and slide it into the oven.

  The song ends and pounding on the door makes me jump. I never would have heard it if it weren’t for the change in music.

  It’s 11:50 on a Tuesday night, who the hell would be here now?

  Nobody good at midnight.

  Two days ago, I would expect it to be Lucas, and I would welcome the opportunity for a couple orgasms and an escape from my own head. But I fucked that up royally, so there’s no way it’s him.

  I grab my gun from the nightstand and make my way to the door. One glimpse through the peephole, and my heart actually stops.

  Gabe.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  “Hold on a second.” I take my gun back to its proper place before returning to the door. No sense tempting myself by having it available around the man who drives me insane. Then again, as long as there were enough women on that jury, I could probably be acquitted because it’s clearly justifiable homicide at this point.

  His sharp green eyes pierce me the moment I open the door. “We need to talk, Skye.”

  I lean against the door and pretend to be ambivalent. “At midnight?”

  He scowls and steps closer to me. “Are you going to let me in, or what?”

  My hesitance only lasts a moment before I remember what happened last night and decide it’s worth hearing him out.

  I hold the door open and usher him in, breathing in deeply as he passes.

  Fuck…he smells amazing.

  That familiar mingling of clean linen and deep musk fills my nostrils. I resist sighing.

  The music is still blasting in the kitchen so I move past him to shut it off. When I turn around, he’s leaning against the archway into the kitchen, appearing lost and, frankly, a little terrified. I’ve never seen Gabe scared before—not in the almost twenty years I’ve known him. The fact that he is now tightens my gut.

  He glances down at his right hand and runs his left thumb over the split knuckles there.

  “What happened to you?”

  His head jerks up, and he drops his hands, almost as if he’s embarrassed by my noticing. “Oh, nothing. Just had to take care of some business for one of the girls.” He glances around the kitchen. “So, you’re baking?”

  Brilliant observation.

  The flour all over the counter and the smell of baking cookies are a dead giveaway.

  “Yeah, so what?” I lean back against the counter and grip the edge, trying for nonchalance when, in reality, my heart is racing and my hands shake. Having Gabe alone in my domain, knowing how much tension has been building between us since the wedding, has me as terrified as he looks.

  “Well, it’s midnight…”

  I shrug. “No shit, Sherlock. Now, why are you here at midnight?”

  He runs a hand back through his hair and averts his eyes momentarily before returning them to me. “Because we need to talk, Skye. We can’t keep doing what we’ve been doing.”

  What, jerking off to each other?

  I probably shouldn’t mention that to him. If he knew I was in his office, things could get even weirder between us.

  Instead of confessing what I witnessed last night, I bite my tongue and wait. He watches me. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to say. He’s the one who showed up here; no way I’m saying anything until he spills whatever it is he came here to say.

  I let the silence linger between us until it’s uncomfortable. When his eyes narrow on me, I quirk an eyebrow and wait.

  Ball is in your court, big guy.

  His penetrating gaze rakes over me, from my face down my body. Everywhere he explores, my skin warms as if he were caressing it with his hand and not those expressive eyes. The way he strips me bare with just a look is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. And now, I’m just waiting for the bomb to drop that will surely destroy me.

  Jesus.

  She must be trying to kill me wearing that. The tiny cotton shorts and loose tank leave nothing to the imagination. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, and seen even more skin when she prances around in her bikinis, but something about seeing her casually dressed and comfortable like this gives me the chills and awakens my cock at the same time.

  She’s so fucking beautiful.

  Tendrils of her dark hair have fallen out of her messy bun to frame her face, which has a white splotch of flour on the cheek. All I can think about is tugging that band out of her hair and burying my hands in it while I lick her face clean.

  Skye quirks her eyebrow at me and crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up and out toward me.

  Fuck me sideways.

  I take a deep, cleansing breath and carefully consider my words. It’s too damn hard to think straight when she’s looking at me like that, when she fucking looks like that. She’s every man’s wet dream, and I can’t have her.

  And isn’t that a fucking bitch.

  “Well?” She taps her bare foot impatiently, and the dark red paint on her nails is just another nail in my coffin. Absolutely everything about her is sexy, and my willpower is waning.

  Where do I even start? I guess at the beginning.

  “I did the right thing, Skye. We would have regretted it.” The words leave my mouth, but I know they’re a lie the moment I speak them. We might have hated the fallout from our actions, but us, together, could never be something to regret. I know that deep down, no matter how much I’ve been fighting it.

  Her eyes spark with anger, and she shifts her weight to her other foot. “I wouldn’t have regretted it.”

  “You were drunk, and on something, don’t tell me you weren’t.”

  She sighs and narrows her eyes
at me. “I took a Xanax. It’s not a big deal. I have a prescription, and I fucking needed it.”

  “I know that day was awful for you, being there without Star. We all felt it, but you were not in your right mind when you kissed me, Skye. I did the right thing by leaving.”

  The more I talk, the more I know I’m trying to convince myself more than her.

  “I may have been drunk, but I knew exactly what I was doing, Gabe. And you know that.”

  Do I?

  I try to think back to before the wedding, to how things were between us before the kiss that started all the shit. It’s a haze, so many years of interactions blurring together but one thing stands out in striking contrast.

  Well, one person. Savage.

  My best friend.

  My business partner.

  My brother in every way but blood.

  Which makes Skye my sister.

  Remember that, Gabe.

  “No, you didn’t, Skye. What do you think would happen if we hooked up? What would Savage say? What would your mother say?”

  Her cheeks flame, and she clenches her fists. “It’s none of their fucking business what we do, Gabe. We are both adults. We have the right to be happy and, as much as you may try to deny it, we can make each other happy.”

  Happy is something I haven’t been or even considered for so long, I can’t even remember what it felt like. I left a huge part of me in the desert, a piece of my soul disappeared with every life I took, no matter how justified it may have been. And the shit with Abello last year only intensified my guilt. It was the right thing to do. I know that. His goons would have killed Dani without a second thought, and where would that have left Savage? Sacrificing my sanity for Dani’s life and their happiness was well worth it. But no amount of sex or therapy has brought me happiness; it’s beyond my reach. Skye should know that.

  “What makes you so sure of that?”

  Her eyes drop to the colorful linoleum, and she shifts as if she’s uncomfortable under my stare. When she brings her gaze back up to meet mine, the stormy blue there breaks my heart. Skye has been tortured since Star’s death—that much has been obvious—but now, knowing she thinks I am the way for her to find happiness and knowing I can’t give her that, it shatters me.