Wreck: Hawke

by Heather C. Leigh

  Of course, Hawke doesn’t know that what I’m lacking is him, physically, that is. He’s completely clueless to my hopeless attraction and clearly doesn’t reciprocate. Every time we touch, either accidentally brushing fingers or when Hawke puts his hand on my back to guide me through a parking lot or crowded room, my body explodes with desire. Heat shoots down my spine in a fiery ripple from my head to the bottom of my feet.

  Since Hawke obviously doesn’t feel the same, his touches meant to be platonic, and I’m not willing to risk our friendship, every minute spent with him is pure torture. Being friends means I get to hang out and talk to Hawke, joke around with him, watch his tattoo collection grow, stare at his beautiful face, and then sit back and watch as he hooks up after each show with girl after nameless girl.

  Girls who aren’t me.

  If I had any experience with men at all, I’d have the courage to simply do what the others do—walk up to Hawke, bat my eyes, whisper in his ear, and disappear somewhere to have some fun. But I have little experience with dating and zero with sex. Having my first time in the filthy back room of some club with a guy I like way more than I should isn’t ideal, but I’d do it with Hawke. He’d have to make the first move, and so far he’s shown no signs of wanting me that way.

  So here I am, at yet another after-party. This time at the guys’ apartment, permanently relegated to the dreaded “friend zone.”

  “Do you need another drink?” Gavin asks, pointing at my empty cup.

  I hesitate, my eyes flicking up to find Hawke across the room, a slutty-looking blonde wrapped around his gorgeous body. My heart trips up, clenching painfully in my chest. No matter what the situation or where we are, I’m aware of Hawke’s location at all times. It’s as if my body is responding to some silent beacon, Hawke pulling my focus like a magnet, even when I wish I could simply ignore him.

  “Yes, I definitely need another.” I thrust my cup at Hawke’s best friend, not taking my gaze off of Hawke and his soon-to-be-newest conquest. Alcohol will dull some of the excruciating anguish of watching yet another hookup.

  Gavin accepts my empty cup graciously to fetch my drink. “Coming right up.”

  That’s it. Tired of being overlooked by the guy I’ve fallen hard for, I grit my teeth in stubborn determination. A quick scan of the room and I notice there are plenty of other men here tonight. Available men. If Hawke doesn’t want me, surely one of them does. Without a doubt I’m not thinking rationally, but I can’t take the torture anymore. Wanting something so badly only to watch someone else get it time and time again is too much to bear. Every time I watch Hawke take off with a girl, a shred of my dignity, along with a piece of my heart, disappears.

  Gavin returns with my beverage, a refill of the blue liquid over ice that tastes like a really strong piña colada.

  Good. I need it.

  With a huge amount of false confidence, I pluck it from his hand and down half of it right away, letting the liquid fire burn its way down my throat. Gavin’s beautiful face falls, his full lips turning down in the corners as I demolish the beverage. I disregard his concern, edging past the confused bass player to approach an attractive guy I noticed earlier.

  The guy grins when he sees me, revealing two adorable dimples and a set of perfect white teeth. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says, sliding a hand around my waist. It feels strange, wrong. I can tell it’s not Hawke’s touch and my body is very aware of the fact.

  I shrug off my concern and smile back at the guy. “Hi.” Feeling ridiculous, I lean into him the way I’ve seen girls do to Hawke and flutter my eyelashes. Holy shit, it works, because the look in the guy’s eyes is purely carnal.

  Perfect.

  If Hawke’s getting laid tonight, so am I.

  Hawke

  “Want to go somewhere more private?” Brandi, Brittany… whatever the girl rubbing against me is called whispers, sticking her tongue in my ear to show me exactly why she wants to leave.

  A shudder rips through me and my cock gets hard. I curl my hand into her side and pull her flush against my body. I’m about to drag her into my bedroom, but out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Abby crossing the room. When she stops next to Brad—a complete and total entitled douchebag who despite all of us hating him, somehow gets invited to every one of our parties—my spine stiffens in anger. Brad hits on any and every girl in sight, making sure to get them nice and drunk before fucking and chucking them. More than once I’ve had to listen to him describe his disgusting sexual escapades.

  And now he’s talking to Abby with a lecherous smile on his stupid face. No, that’s not what happened. She went to talk to him. What the fuck?

  “Hawke,” the girl at my side whines. She slides her hand across the front of my jeans, which sends another ripple of pleasure straight to my groin. Brad reaches out, his slimy arm wrapping around Abby’s waist, thumb skimming over her lower back, and I see fucking red.

  Don’t fucking touch what’s mine!

  The words roar through my head, the powerful force behind them surprising me.

  “I’ll be right back.” I gracelessly untangle myself from Brittany/Brandi’s clutches with no intention of actually returning. She’s attractive, but she doesn’t smell right. Too much perfume, not the faint beachy and slightly floral scent that perpetually surrounds Abby, but only if you’re close enough.

  Brad leans in to whisper something to Abby and I clench my jaw at the thought of him enjoying that delicious scent. It gets worse. I watch in horror as his hand slowly slides down to her ass.

  That’s when I fucking snap. Mine!

  “Hey,” I cross the room, grab Brad’s shoulder, and shove him back. He stumbles, shocked, quickly composing his face into a mask of irritation.

  “What the fuck, Evans?” Brad snarls.

  Abby’s eyes are wide, ricocheting back and forth between me and Brad. Her luscious mouth drops open in surprise. “Hawke? What’s going on?”

  I tear my eyes away from those sinful lips to glare at Brad, who seems beyond determined to piss me off further when I’m already hovering at the edge of the cliff.

  “Go away, Evans. I’m talking to this nice girl.” This prick has no idea how close I am to snapping or what Abby means to me. The way Brad says “girl,” combined with the obvious “fuck off so I can get laid” look in his eyes, seals his fate.

  Blinded by rage, I pull back my arm and drill my fist right into his smug face.

  “Fuck!” Brad cries out. He touches his mouth to find his lip split open and bleeding.

  “Oh my god, Hawke! What is your problem?” Abby shouts. I move to punch the bastard again, but Abby steps between us, grabbing my hand. “Stop!”

  “Move,” I hiss, shooting a murderous glare over Abby’s shoulder at Brad, who is still holding his hand up to his mouth.

  The rest of the room has gone silent, everyone stopping to stare at the disruption, eager to watch a good fight. Dax must have either left or is holed up in his room with Kate, otherwise he’d be right in the middle of things, using his enormous muscles and underground fighting skills to put an end to the confrontation.

  “Don’t,” Abby begs, forcing me to look at her by stepping into my line of sight. When I meet her eyes, shimmering with tears and betrayal, all of the rage I felt for Brad turns into frustration with Abby for drinking and putting herself in the situation with Brad to begin with.

  “Leave,” I bark at Brad, pointing at the front door. Before she can protest, I grab Abby’s wrist and haul her to my room. She stumbles behind me on her high heels. Using my foot, I slam the door shut with a bang.

  “Ouch, Hawke!” Abby twists out of my hold, turning to glare at me. “What is your problem?”

  “My problem?” I shout. “I’m not the one getting drunk and letting Brad piece-of-shit Vargas touch my ass!”

  Her mouth drops open and her eyes bulge. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  I step forward, crowding her in a corner of the tiny space I share with Gavin. “Oh
, I’m far from fucking kidding, Abby. He’s a slimy douchebag who wants nothing more than to get you drunk and fuck you.”

  “So what? It’s none of your business who I sleep with!” Abby puts her hands on her hips and scowls. It’s almost adorable, until she continues her rant, going straight for the jugular. “I don’t say anything about the whores you bang every night!”

  Anger, shame, raging desire—they all battle inside my chest, clashing until they detonate in a huge fireball of uncontrollable emotions. “I don’t want them!” I shout, my hands going to my hair, fisting huge hunks.

  I step closer, Abby’s back now pressed against the bathroom door. I lean forward, dropping my hands to cage her in on either side of her head. Her breathing picks up and I drop my gaze to drag up her sinful body, ending at her heart-stopping eyes. “Don’t you get it, Abby?” My voice lowers as I finally confess what I’ve held inside for too long. “I don’t want Brad touching you. I don’t want anyone touching you! I want you. You’re mine.”

  Abby gasps, either in shock at my declaration, or with desire. I don’t wait to find out because at that moment, I lean closer, letting my hips press against hers so she can feel exactly how much I want her. Abby’s eyes fall to my mouth, her thick lashes fluttering against flushed skin. When her pink tongue darts out to lick her lips, any remaining willpower I possessed dissolves into nothingness.

  I tilt my head to see if that mouth tastes as sweet as she smells, but Abby holds me back with a hand to my chest. A fist squeezes around my heart. Of course she doesn’t want me. Why would she? I’m a fucked-up mess and she knows it.

  Abby inhales a shaky breath, drawing my attention back to her eyes once more. “What’s your real name?” she asks.

  “What?” I pull my brows together.

  “Your real name. I… I don’t want my first time to be with someone whose name I don’t know,” she whispers, her cheeks blazing red with embarrassment.

  I huff out a laugh. “Henry. It’s Henry Walker Evans.”

  “Like Gavin Walker?”

  I shake my head. “No relation.”

  “Henry,” she says, smiling as she trails her trembling fingers up my chest, over my collarbone, to wrap around the back of my neck. “Kiss me, Henry.”

  Without hesitation, I lift my hands from the door to cup her flushed cheeks, letting my full weight press against her body. Abby’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, sending a rush of blood straight to my groin. I groan in pleasure. “God, I’ve been wanting to do this forever.” Before she can answer, I lean in and our mouths connect.

  Abby melts against the door, her muscles going limp, allowing me to control the kiss. When I slide my tongue against the seam of her lips, she lets out a throaty moan that vibrates all the way to my toes. Her mouth parts on a soft exhale, the sound sending little sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. I’m so turned on, so desperate to taste and feel every part of her, that my brain turns off and instinct takes over. Primal, animal instinct to possess, to claim, to make her mine.

  I step forward, putting one foot between hers to kick her feet apart. Once there’s enough room to maneuver, I push my stiff dick against the junction of her thighs. Abby gasps and comes to life. The girl who was content to be passively carried along through our kiss, threads her fingers through my hair and grips tight. The streak of pain across my scalp shreds my last vestiges of rational thought.

  Panting, I break away, dizzily gulping down oxygen. “Off. Now.” I grab the hem of her silky tank top and yank it over her head, revealing two perfect, round breasts supported by a lacy white bra. “Fuck.” I palm my hard-on through my way too tight jeans, the ache nearly unbearable.

  Abby stares at me, her eyes wild, pupils dilated. Desire has put crimson streaks on her cheekbones and turned her throat and chest a deep shade of pink. “Your turn,” she says, clawing at the bottom of my own T-shirt. I reach over my head to pull it off, but hesitate when my fingers grip the material.

  The scars. I’ve haven’t had sex with anyone without a shirt on since the accident, usually not even getting my pants all the way off. It’s always been quick backroom hookups or blowjobs. My pulse races, fear overtaking desire, pricking my skin uncomfortably.

  “Henry.” Abby caresses my cheek, her thumb brushing across the silver stud in my bottom lip. “I don’t care. I want you, all of you. You’re perfect the way you are.”

  Our eyes lock, and I know she’s telling the truth. This is Abby. I can trust her. She skims her hands down my ribcage, hooking her fingers into the waist of my jeans. In a bold move, Abby tugs me forward and arches her back off the door, grinding her crotch against my aching cock.

  I nod, knowing right now, I’ll give her whatever she wants. I fist the collar of the shirt and pull it over my head, balling it up in my hands between us, using it as my final shield. Without breaking eye contact, Abby covers my hands with her own and slowly removes my fingers, taking the shirt from me. She tosses it to the ground, blue eyes still fixed on mine. Abby slides her hands around my waist and I flinch.

  “Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, skimming her hands up my torso, her fingers exploring every inch. They brush across my abs to my chest, where she gently flicks her thumbs across my nipples. “I’m not. I know you’ll take care of me.”

  “Jesus, Abby.” My head lolls back from the pleasure of her touch.

  Abby winds her hands behind my head and pulls my mouth back to hers. Our tongues slide together, wet and hot and so fucking perfect. She stops to catch her breath, fumbling with the button on her own jeans. As I stare, entranced, Abby shoves down her pants and underwear and reaches behind her to unsnap her bra, letting it slide down her arms to the floor. She’s so beautiful. I stop breathing to stare at her naked body, snapping out of it only when she speaks. “Make love to me, Henry.”

  Abby

  I don’t know where my courage comes from; maybe I’m faking it, or maybe it’s because I’m a twenty-year-old virgin finally naked with the man I’ve been lusting after. All I know is I’m not going to let anything stop me from getting what I want.

  Stripping in front of Hawke is the most nerve-wracking, terror-inducing thing I’ve ever done. As I lower the last piece of clothing, exposing myself to him completely, I swallow back the anxiety, waiting to see what he’ll do.

  I don’t have to wait long.

  Hawke makes a choking noise, his eyes bulging out from behind his black-framed glasses. The muttered curses that fall from his mouth make me smile, but are nowhere near as satisfying as watching him scramble to shed the rest of his clothes. Once he’s toed off his shoes and shucked his pants, hopping on one leg and nearly falling over in his haste, Hawke stands in front of me and my breath hitches.

  Fully dressed, Hawke is beautiful, but naked, he’s stunning. Hawke isn’t overly tall, only few inches more than my own five foot seven, but he’s lean and muscled all over. Broad shoulders and sinewy arms are toned from years of drumming. They lead down to a sculpted chest. His abs are defined just enough to be visible, and the dark trail of hair starting at his navel and leading down makes me long to touch. His cock is standing out from his body, thick and red and… gulp… intimidating.

  I shudder at the thought of that entering my body. Hawke senses my apprehension. He steps forward, gathering me in his strong arms. Our naked bodies press together, nothing between us for the first time. The feel of his hot skin, hard muscles, and coarse hair against my soft curves has my pulse rate soaring. Everywhere we touch, the level of heat increases, sending scorching heat across the rest of my skin.

  Hawke reaches up and removes his ever-present glasses, gently placing them on the nightstand.

  God he’s gorgeous. Without his final barrier in place, I can see the various flecks of color in his irises. The blue eye has streaks of warm brown around the pupil, tying it to the whisky-colored iris of his other eye. Hawke strokes my face, kissing me lightly on the mouth.

  “Don’t worry, Abby. I’ve got you.”

>   That’s when I let go. I give myself over, body and soul, to this man—this brilliant, beautiful, troubled man. Trusting him to guide me through this experience.

  I nod, and Hawke gently skims his nose along mine. In his arms, he guides me backwards to the bed, lying me down before covering my body with his full weight. Every one of my senses is heightened. The smell of his skin, masculine combined with his aftershave, fills my nostrils, flooding me with lust so intense I writhe beneath him. The touch and rub of hot skin sliding and pressing sends pleasure radiating deep inside me.

  Hawke latches onto my lips, devouring me like he can never get enough. The stud in his tongue skims across the roof of my mouth and I shiver. He tastes like pure, raw need. He tastes perfect, right. Hawke breaks the kiss to graze his teeth down my throat. My hips involuntarily buck off the bed, my body desperate for some kind of friction. The throbbing need between my legs has me feeling empty. I begin to moan, begging for something, anything, to satisfy the ache.

  “Henry,” I whisper. His chest rumbles with pleasure as his mouth finds my breast. “Oh god!” When he sucks my nipple between his teeth, biting down gently, I babble incoherently, squirming beneath him. “I need…I need…”

  “Shhhhhh.” Hawke’s hot breath gusts across my skin, driving me insane. “Let me show you how good it can be.”

  “I just… I need…” I can’t finish my thought because I have no idea what I need.

  Hawke releases my breast, trailing fiery, wet kisses down my stomach. He circles my navel with his tongue and I whimper. Hawke smiles against my skin and I relax back into the bed. This is Hawke. I trust him to take me where I need to go.

  He slides down further on the bed, situating himself between my thighs. Before I have a chance to be embarrassed, his tongue slides into my slit and I cry out in pleasure. “Ohmygod.” My fingers find his head, threading in his dark hair. Strong, calloused hands span my hips, spreading me open and holding me down so I can’t buck against his face the way my instincts tell me I should.