by Gwyn McNamee
“Why isn’t Savage back?”
He walks to the bar and grabs a glass, glancing around for something. He finally sees the bottle of Blanton’s on the desk and they flicker to me. He grins. “Bourbon girl, huh?”
I nod and walk over to the desk, scooping up my glass and taking a long pull while I take a seat.
This night is becoming a hell of a lot more stressful than I had anticipated.
“Savage has to sort some stuff out at the bar,” he explains, grabbing the bottle and giving himself a generous pour before dropping down into the chair across from me.
“And you or Byron couldn’t do it?” I ask with a little more snipe than I had intended.
There goes your mouth again, girl. Rein it in.
He grins at me. “If you haven’t noticed yet, Savage likes to be in control, especially of his business. Getting him to delegate isn’t easy.”
I sigh and slouch back into the chair I dragged over after Savage left. “Has he always been like this?”
“More or less, but it definitely got worse after the accident.”
I glance at the picture frame in the corner of the desk. It’s Savage and a young, female version of him smiling widely at the camera with snow-capped mountains in the background. “Did you know her well?” I ask, turning the picture around to face Gabe.
His gaze falls on it and his smile falters. He takes a long drink from his glass. “Yeah, I did. I grew up with the Hawkes. They’re like family to me.”
The sadness in his voice rips at me.
I probably should just leave it alone, but opportunity to delve deeper into Savage with his best friend and business partner is something I can’t pass up. “Did you go to school with Savage?”
His eyes flicker to mine and his smile returns. “We met in first grade. My mom died giving birth to me, and my dad was always so focused on work. I was basically raised by nannies and babysitters. Savage’s mom found out my situation and kind of adopted me into the Hawke clan. We only lived two blocks away, so I ended up spending almost every day and night there.”
While I don’t know much about Savage’s family, being adopted into the Hawke clan sounds like it would pretty amazing.
“What was she like?” I know he knows I mean Star without me saying her name. He returns his stare to the photo and the corners of his mouth turn up in a sad smile.
“Star was quiet, reserved, brilliant…kind of a perfect angel.”
“Is Skye a lot like Star?”
He bursts out laughing, tossing his head back and wiping at his eyes. “Fuck no. They couldn’t be more different. Don’t get me wrong, Skye is brilliant, too, but their personalities couldn’t have been more opposite. Even if they tried to trick someone by switching places, they always gave themselves away the second they opened their mouths.”
“So, Skye is what? A troublemaker?”
He scoffs and drains his glass. “Troublemaker is an understatement.” His hand tightens around the now-empty glass, his knuckles turning white as a muscle along his tense jaw flutters.
“What about the other two? Stone and Storm?”
He shakes his head and grins at me. “Boy, aren’t we inquisitive?”
I feel my face flush and grab my drink, draining the glass to cover my embarrassment at being busted. “You have something else you want to talk about?”
He leans and sets his empty glass on the desk before reclining in the chair. “I’d rather hear about what’s going on with you and Savage.” His smirk returns and he watches me squirm.
Shit.
“Well, that certainly isn’t happening, so, why don’t you tell me about them instead?”
He grins. “Fair enough. Storm is kind of the responsible one in the family. She married Ben Matthews several years ago, and they have a little girl, Angelina. She’s an architect and he owns a construction company. She actually designed this building and Ben’s company built it.”
I look around the room, taking in the tray ceiling, crown molding, and built-in shelves. “It is a beautiful building.”
For a pussy palace.
“I know.”
“What about Stone?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Well, he is a shining example of youngest child syndrome. Savage’s father died when Stone was pretty young, and his mom really babied him. She let him get away with a lot that never would have flown with the big guy around. He’s a bit of a loose cannon, but, in the last couple years, he has more or less straightened himself out. I mean, he managed to graduate top five in his law school class.”
A knock at the door has me practically jumping from my chair.
Gabe laughs and stands. “Relax, I’ll get it.”
I glance at the computer screen and don’t see Savage anywhere the camera's cover. It must be him. My stomach flip-flops and my heart practically breaks my ribs as I wait to see him.
Gabe unlocks and opens the door and Savage enters, his eyes immediately searching the room until they find me. I try to stand and wobble as the room spins.
I grab the edge of the desk to steady myself and close my eyes, fighting the churning in my stomach making me feel like I just got off the Tilt-a-Whirl at the State Fair.
Crap. I’m drunk.
I vaguely hear Savage say something to Gabe about drinking and a car, but I’m more worried about not falling over right now.
When the room finally stops spinning, I open my eyes to find Savage in front of me, watching me intently, concern written all over his face. His cheek is slightly puffy, scratched, and starting to discolor. I realize he actually did get hit.
“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” I ask, reaching out to cup his cheek, brushing my fingers gently over the abraded skin.
He captures my hand, pulls it to his mouth, and presses his lips to my fingers. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I had to leave you.” His eyes wander behind me to the desk and I follow his gaze to the almost empty Blanton’s bottle.
Turning back, he quirks his eyebrow at me and grins. “Are you okay?”
I step toward him, wobbling slightly, and nod, my eyelids suddenly feeling very heavy. He grins and tugs on my arm, pulling me down onto his lap. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Probably because I am.
Even though I know I should be an adult and stand up and walk out of here on my own two feet, I settle against him, burying my face in his neck and my fingers in his shirt. He presses his lips to my forehead and murmurs another apology for leaving me.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
I’m too tired and too drunk to care about the fact that he doesn’t know where I live.
Instead, I let the warmth and comfort of his embrace lull me into a contentment I haven’t felt in a very long time, if ever.
“Is she out?” Gabe asks when he returns to my office a few minutes after I arrived.
I glance down at her, even though I don’t need to confirm she’s out like a light. She must have drunk half the bottle while I was downstairs. “Yeah, she’s gone.”
But she’s fucking here! And that’s all that matters.
He laughs and walks over, leaning down to check her face, currently snuggled into my neck, her hot breath teasing my skin. “You want to drop her off at her place before we go home?”
I know where she lives. My deep probing turned up her address easily, but the thought of leaving her after this week of indecision and torture wondering where we stand has my stomach leaping into my throat. I shake my head and cuddle her closer to me. “No, I’m not leaving her alone tonight. We’re going to my place.”
She manages to sleep through the elevator ride to the car, Gabe transferring her into the back seat, and the entire ride to my condo, her head resting on my lap.
By the time we arrive at my door, I’m convinced I may not be able to wake her up. Gabe holds the door open for me and follows us in, greeting Princess as she jumps at me, trying to climb onto my well-occupied lap. Gabe scoops her up and waits at the threshold.
I glance down and brush a strand of her white-blonde hair back behind her ear. She stirs, snuggling closer to me and tightening her arms around my neck.
“No, we’ll be okay. Thanks. You got Princess, though?”
He nods before disappearing and pulling the door closed behind him.
I don’t think I have the energy to concentrate on two girls tonight. I’m glad Princess thinks Gabe is her knight in shining armor and won’t even miss me.
I retreat to my bedroom and into the closet where I manage to reach around her to grab one of my t-shirts and head to the bathroom. Stopping just outside the open door, I cup Danika’s cheek, brushing my thumb along her smooth skin and down to her lips, slightly parted with her slow, even breathing.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“Danika, babe, wake up.”
She stirs, but her eyes remain sealed and her lips curl down slightly into an adorable frown. A smile spreads across my face.
She is so damn cute.
I press my lips to hers softly, trying to wake her the gentlest way possible.
Moaning, she reacts to my kiss, pressing her body into mine and pulling her arms from behind my head to cup my face and tug me to her.
Guess she’s awake now.
What started out as a tender kiss quickly becomes more, her tongue slipping against my lips, demanding entrance and response. I capture her face in my palms and slowly pull away, ending the kiss with several slow, sweet presses of my lips. She sighs and her eyes flutter open, her lazy, alcohol-soaked gaze roaming my face.
“Hey,” she murmurs before pressing her lips to mine again and offering me a wide grin.
I grin back at her. “Hi.”
She leans back and looks around the room. “Is this your bedroom?”
“Yeah.” She takes in the room—the large, low king-sized bed in the center, the black lacquered nightstands and dresser along the walls, the bank of windows occupying the far wall. When those hazy blue eyes find mine again, I hand her the shirt. “Here, you can sleep in this. There is a new toothbrush you can use in the second drawer on the right. Let me know if you need anything else.”
She grins at me, grabs the shirt, and slides off my lap, wobbling on unsteady legs. I reach out and grasp her hip, steadying her. She giggles and glances back at me. “Shit, how much did I drink?”
Too much.
“Half a bottle.”
Her eyes bug out and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t normally drink that much, at least not liquor.”
I laugh and gently squeeze her hip. “Don’t apologize, you probably needed it.”
She barks out a laugh. “Probably.” She slips from my grip and stumbles into the bathroom. Grinning, I return to the front door and lock it, shutting off the lights as I make my way back to the bedroom. The bathroom door is closed and I can hear the water running in the sink.
I return to the closet and change into a pair of long, silk pajama pants and a t-shirt.
By the time I emerge a couple minutes later, she’s opening the bathroom door. She looks around the room until she sees me and she smiles. My 30 Seconds to Mars t-shirt hangs off her full breasts and stops just south of the spot between her long legs I am dying to taste again.
God, she was fucking sweet, and so fucking wet. My cock responds and I hope she’s too drunk to notice it straining against the thin silk pants that do nothing to hide it.
She glances down at herself and tugs on the end of the shirt before smiling up at me. “Great shirt, by the way. I love Jared Leto.” Turning, she wobbles her way over to the bed, pulls back the duvet and slides in, snuggling down with a giant sigh.
Somehow, even in her drunken state, she managed to figure out what side of the bed I sleep on, though I guess the alarm clock, bottle of water, and stack of books on the right side nightstand kind of makes it obvious.
I get ready in the bathroom and when I exit, I find her face down in the bed, a light snore filling the room. It should be gross, a huge turn off, yet, it isn’t. It is fucking adorable.
I am so screwed.
This is somewhere I never thought I would be a week ago, joining her in bed. After getting my legs under the covers, I pull my shirt off and toss it onto my chair. I can’t stand sleeping in shirts and she’s already passed out, so it’s not like she will be looking.
I lie back against my pillow and reach out with my right hand, running my fingers through her soft, blonde hair, which cascades over the pillow behind her. She mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over toward me, settling her head against my chest and wrapping her arm around my stomach.
Woah.
I hold my breath as she snuggles even closer to me, eliminating any space from between our bodies and throwing her leg over mine, my cock hardening again at the brush of her skin.
No one has touched me in over three years.
Well, that’s not entirely true. The doctors, a lot of doctors have, and my family, they are huggers, but, not a woman, and not in my bed, and certainly not below the belt.
She settles and her breathing returns to the rhythmic sound of deep sleep. I slowly release the breath I’m holding and wrap my arms around her, keeping her impossibly close.
Pressing my lips to her head, I inhale and take in the clean smell of her shampoo and the faint lilac scent that always surrounds her.
She smells like summer, and having her here, wrapped around me in my bed, makes me crave everything I never thought I could have again.
Just don’t fuck it up.
I wake to a wall of heat and hard flesh—under my cheek, my right arm, my hand, between my legs. The crisp, cool scent I’ve come to associate with Savage invades as I take a deep breath and snuggle in closer to him.
The steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek is soothing and I feel myself drifting toward sleep again when I suddenly realize I have no fucking clue how I got here.
Sitting up abruptly, my head spins and a stabbing pain pierces my temples. I wince and scrunch my eyes closed, pressing my palms against my head and praying it stops.
Shit, what the hell happened last night?
What the fuck did I do?
The splitting pain finally fades to a dull ache, and I open my eyes to a vast expanse of slightly tanned, smooth, muscled flesh.
Sweet baby Jesus! Savage is ripped!
I mean, I’ve seen him before, in the videos, but this is real life, full living color and flesh right at my fingertips.
Sleeping peacefully on his back, his head is turned away from me, the arm that was wrapped around me now sprawled out along the bottom of the pillows, exposing his toned bicep. The crisp white sheet is pulled up just under his pecs and my hand itches to pull it down so I can examine the rest of him.
This is creepy. I shouldn’t be watching him sleep, thinking about touching him while he is completely unaware. Creepy, right? Predatory?
I clutch my hands together, anything to prevent me from giving in to my desire to find out if the rest of his body looks like this. He mentioned he works out every day, but I never imagined he could look like this under all those crisp, perfectly tailored shirts. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t chiseled pecs and arms that look like they belong on a professional athlete, not a strip club owner. The video quality was questionable, but this? This is very real.
The temptation to pull the sheet back grows and my clit throbs looking at him. I bury my face in my hands and take several deep breaths.
Just go back to sleep.
If I can just convince myself I’m in control and slip back down into his arm and against his firm body, maybe I can drift off. I throw my leg over his hip, press my lips to his chest, and relish the taste of his hot skin on my tongue.
God, he tastes so good.
Instinctively, I press my bare core against him, searching for relief from my pounding need. The loss of my panties last
night should be embarrassing, but it makes it so much easier to seek relief this morning.
Fuck. That feels good.
I rock my hips slightly against him, burying my face into his shoulder and chewing my lip against the desire to bite into his hot skin.
With a slight shift, his arm circles me and I whip my head around to look at him as embarrassment over what I have been doing rushes through me. His blue eyes are on me with laser focus. I shift to move away from him, but he tugs me across his body, centering my very wet pussy over his very hard cock encased in silky sleep pants.
“Were you going somewhere?” he asks, his voice thick, gravelly, and sexy as all fuck. If this is how he sounds in the morning, I want to spend every night with this man, and that is a dangerous thought.
“Um, yeah…” I start to make an excuse, to cover for the fact I had just been trying to rub one out on him while he fucking slept.
God, I am such a pervert. What was I thinking?
“No, the only place you need to be is right here, with me.” He shifts beneath me and even though I can’t see it, I can feel his abs flexing against me and I can tell they are just as delicious as I imagined they would be. His cock rubs against my core and I groan, dropping my forehead against his shoulder and biting my lip again. “Danika, look at me.”
I lift my head. His intent is as clear as the blue of his eyes blazing with heat.
“I need to taste you,” he whispers. He takes my mouth in a commanding kiss, sliding his tongue between my lips before I can protest the whole morning breath thing. I try to pull away, but he slides his hand behind my head, holding me in place as he ravages my mouth.
His other hand slides down my stomach and he reaches under the t-shirt and drags his fingers through my wet core. “Mmmm, I need to taste you here,” he murmurs before leaning back and grabbing the hem of the shirt. “You need to lose this. I didn’t see nearly enough of you last night.”
Oh, sweet fucking Christ! This man…
Any reservations or embarrassment I may have felt earlier is replaced by the driving need to have him inside of me. Shifting up onto my knees, I slide my pussy along his thick, hard cock, soaking the silk of his pants with my wetness. He moans and closes his eyes, moving his hands to my hips and digging his fingers into my flesh.