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“But you did.” Instead of giving in and following me to the door, Hawk swung me around and caged me with his arms. “Babe, don’t do this. I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It’s been a shit week, and I need you tonight.”
Whatever retort I’d been about to make, his confession stopped the words in my throat. In all the months we’d been hooking up, I’d assumed that I was the needy one, that he’d been doing me a favour by constantly showing up. Sure, he got his rocks off, but there were a hundred other women he could have done that with, and probably he did on the days he wasn’t in my bed. We’d never discussed exclusivity, but I had no expectations. Instead, I fought with my guilty conscience for every message I sent him. Never had it occurred to me that he felt any kind of emotion during our time together. I mean, he got dressed and walked away as soon as we were done, and he barely even made small talk.
He needed me?
The words in my throat turned into a lump.
“Okay. Okay, then stay if you want to, but I’m doing all the work. Deal?”
Could it be that the Tin Man had a heart hidden in that solid chest of his?
He flashed me a rare smile. “Deal.”
Usually, Hawk took charge in the bedroom, not that I had any complaints about that. He knew exactly what he was doing. But today, I got to play, which left me a little apprehensive because I definitely didn’t have the same experience.
He lay on the bed as I stripped off my robe—I rarely bothered getting dressed when I knew he was on the way because my clothes never stayed on for long—and watched me through hooded eyes. With my ex, I’d always felt self-conscious when it came to my body, mainly because he’d been excellent at spotting every flaw, but with Hawk, I figured I didn’t matter enough for him to care about a few scars or the dimples on my thighs that showed up when the light hit me wrong. The lack of commitment had given me confidence.
But maybe he did care? And with that revelation came nerves.
I quickly dimmed the lights.
He tangled his fingers in my hair while I feasted on his cock, and when he’d turned to rock, I rolled on a condom from the box on the nightstand. A month ago, I’d picked up a giant, economy-sized package, more out of hope than anything else.
His rough groan as I lowered myself onto his shaft sent me halfway to heaven, and he gripped my hips as I rode him, guiding me because he couldn’t quite give up control. I knew when he got close—his fingers dug into my thighs and his breathing quickened—but he held out until I shattered and then followed me into oblivion, filling me with his heat.
This man… I watched him for a moment, lying there with his eyes closed, then got up to deal with the condom. So many times, I’d wondered if I should heed my family’s advice and try dating again, but I couldn’t give him up. Our twisted affair was worth more to me than I’d ever admit.
“Hawk? You want a coffee before you leave?”
Nothing.
“Hawk?”
Silence, apart from his steady breathing.
Shit, had he fallen asleep? Should I wake him? I knew he wouldn’t want to stay, but at the same time, I worried about him driving home. Hell, I didn’t even know where he lived. Sure, I could have found my way into the HR database and checked, but that would have felt too much like an invasion of privacy. I’d take the little snippets he gave me, and nothing more.
No, I’d leave him to sleep, but should I share the bed with him? Or take the guest room? Which would be weirder? In the end, I figured I’d put on a pair of pyjamas and sleep in my own bed as usual. We’d had sex every week—usually multiple times—for the past year. Would it really be so bad if I slept beside him?
And did I want to pass up the opportunity to spend a little extra time with the man I could never have?
No.
No, I didn’t.
I woke in the early hours in a tangle of sweaty sheets. Sharing a bed with Hawk Hauser was like sleeping beside a furnace, if a furnace were shaped like an octopus. His limbs were everywhere—an arm wrapped around me, one hand on my breast and another on my stomach. My legs were trapped, and I couldn’t have gone anywhere if I’d wanted to, not that I did want to. I could have stayed there forever, safe in the arms of a mercurial asshole way, way out of my league.
In the morning, the bed was cold again, but when I tiptoed into the kitchen, I found a paper bag propped up on the counter, and the aroma of pastries filled the room. Danishes? He’d brought me Danishes? I unrolled the top and found buttery goodness, maple pecan and apple custard.
And on the bag, he’d written two words.
Thanks, babe.
I messaged him back.
Me
You’re welcome x
