Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (15 page)

Clicking on the screen to enlarge the image in the far left corner, I zoom in on the bar where Byron is helping Clarissa and Jamie with the flood of customers seeking drinks.

Busy is good.

Busy keeps my mind occupied.

Busy keeps it off Danika.

Yeah, right…

The shrill ring of the phone on my desk tears me away from the camera feed. “This is Hawke.”

“Savage, son, it’s Dom.”

Shit. That was quick.

“Hey, Dom, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, tossing his phrase back at him, though I doubt he knows I’m mocking him. He may be brilliant at running a criminal empire, but he isn’t the brightest bulb in the shed when it comes to anything else.

“I need a favor.”

And there it is.

My chest tightens and my stomach turns imagining all the depraved things he may ask me to do. “What do you need?”

“I have an associate who’s in town tonight and would really enjoy a visit to your club. I need the champagne room.”

We have five private rooms in the club, the champagne room being the largest and most luxurious. We also have five bachelor parties here tonight, and a very wealthy lawyer and his friends are currently enjoying the benefits of the champagne room before they send him off to the altar.

“I’m sorry, Dom. I can’t. I have a bachelor party in there tonight.” The silence on the other end of the line is deafening and I wonder if I’ve just dug myself into a hole I can never get out of. I take a deep breath and pray that he doesn’t get even more offended. “I’m happy to set up a private area in the main club for him. It would give him a better view of all the girls anyway.”

Dom lets out a deep sigh and clears his throat. “Savage, I am asking you to do me a favor here, in return for the one I did for you earlier this week. I don’t think I’m asking much of you.”

I knew there would be a price. I guess in the grand scheme of things, I should be thanking God it’s all he’s asking for. At worst, it’s just some pissed off patrons. “Okay, I’ll talk to Byron and get them moved out of there. Give me at least a half hour.”

“Thank you, Savage, you are truly a prince among men.”

An eye roll seems appropriate at his comment. After hanging up with Dom, I immediately call down to the bar. Byron answers and I watch him on my screen. “Hey, boss, what’s up?” He looks into the camera as he talks to me, knowing I always keep an eye on things.

I explain the situation quickly. He grumbles, but disappears to break the bad news the bachelor party.

Slumping back in my chair, I drain the rest of my bourbon and pour myself another glass. I’m going to need this tonight to deal with all the complaints this will cause.

Fuck Dom!

The bump of the music from downstairs thuds through the floor. I drop my head back and close my eyes, willing the headache starting to form at the base of my neck to hold off until I can get home and slip into a hot shower.

I hear the door open and I’m hit with a familiar scent, one I will never forget.

Lilacs and spring rain.

Danika.

My eyes snap open and I find her standing near the door, looking as beautiful as the first day she stormed in here. Her flaxen hair is floating around her shoulders in waves and she sucks her red, plump bottom lip between her teeth as she eyes me warily.

I scan her, checking to make sure she’s physically okay. After not seeing or hearing from her for a week, even after sending the note, I’ve been secretly terrified something happened to her.

She’s sporting her usual four-inch stilettos and a skirt so short it leaves very little to the imagination. Then again, I don’t need my imagination after what happened on my patio. Her skirt is paired with a shimmering tank top that exposes the tops of her breasts in a way that is practically begging me to touch them.

Holy. Hell.

Finally, her lip slips from between her teeth and she takes a tentative step toward me. “Hey.”

“Hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” She cringes and I regret my choice of words; she probably thinks I’m pissed and don’t want to see her.

“Um, Gabe said it was okay if I came up.”

I move around my desk and approach her slowly. “Of course it’s okay. I’ve been worried about you.”

She hangs her head and looks to the floor, shifting uncomfortably in her heels. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just…needed some time.”

Needed some time? Time to figure out how to tell me to fuck off? Time to accept the situation and roll with it?

I stop in front of her and look up into her eyes. “But…you’re okay?”

She nods at me, her blue eyes flashing with emotion. What emotion? I don’t have a fucking clue, and isn’t that a fucking bitch?

“Then, what’s wrong?”

A single tear falls, sliding down her cheek and dropping from her chin. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, wiping at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing it in mine. “Don’t worry about me. Just tell me that you are okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Crying isn’t fine. A woman crying is absolutely never fine.

“Come, sit down.” She nods and I release her hand, letting her follow me over to the couch in the sitting area of my office. She drops down onto it and I settle in front of her. “You want a drink?”

Relief floods her face and she smiles. “Yeah, please.”

I grab the bottle of Blanton’s and my glass off my desk and stop at the bar to grab another glass for Danika. I give each of us a strong pour before setting the bottle down on the side table.

I have a feeling we’re both going to need this.

Handing her a glass, I lean in and catch her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She takes a sip of the bourbon and seems to relax instantly. After staring down at her glass for several agonizing moments, she finally clears her throat. “I needed to see you.”

That’s it.

My heart tightens in my chest, and my mind immediately jumps to the obvious conclusion—she’s here to tell me she’s done.

“Why did you need to see me?” I ask, setting my drink down on the end table so I can take her free hand in mine.

She looks up at me from under impossibly long black lashes and flashes a shy smile. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.”

Her repetition of the almost exact words I spoke to her on our first date makes my heart flutter with hope.

Is she trying to tell me something? Why can’t she just say it?

I take a fortifying breath and steady myself. “What have you been thinking about?” I rub my thumb in circles over the palm of her hand, and she squeezes my hand gently.

“How badly I want you to do what you did to me on your patio again. How badly I want you…us.”

I pause, waiting for his reaction, searching his face as he hears the words I have been dying to say to him for days but kept denying.

His eyes glimmer with concern and then heated lust, the blue darkening as they flick from my eyes down to my mouth. I lick my lips and he groans.

“Shit, Danika, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.” His words come out in a rush and I can see him visibly relax, his tense shoulders dropping slightly as he brings my hand up to his mouth and presses his lips to the center, letting them linger there, his warm breath spreading across my palm.

My clit throbs, remembering how that hand, those fingers, felt between my legs. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, trying to press my thighs together. He grins at me and takes my drink from my hand, placing it next to his on the end table.

Shit! I need that!

“What are you doing?”

“Get on the table,” he demands, pointing to the long conference table behind the couch. It takes me a second to process what he’s saying, but the heat in his eyes leaves no question about what he wants.

Moisture floods between my legs and I shakily stand and make my way around the couch to the table.

He follows closely behind me, stopping and watching intently as I turn and stare him down while I boost myself up onto the table and let my legs dangle over the edge.

A lecherous grin spreads across his face. He moves in, using his broad shoulders to press my thighs wide open.

Boy, am I fucking glad I wore this skirt, so much less fabric to deal with.

“Come here,” he commands, pulling on my arm so I bring my head down to him.

I’m so used to men just taking what they want; that one of a kind alpha-dog confidence is precisely what I have always craved. But, with Savage, his inability to be physically assertive makes him all that more demanding with his words, and having him tell me what he wants, what he needs, is getting me just as hot as any other man who has slammed me against a wall to fuck me.

He captures my mouth with his, a searing kiss that blazes and stamps me as his. I know this is just the start of us, but I already feel a tiny piece of my heart slipping away to him.

Reluctantly, he releases my mouth, lingering for several short, hard kisses before finally letting me go.

“Lie back.”

I comply with his order, reclining back and leaning on my elbows so I can watch him. After this week of agony, I don’t want to miss a moment of the looks he’s giving me. I need to see him, his face. I need this.

He leans forward, pushing my thighs open even wider as he slides his hands up and slips his fingers around the thin strip of my soaked thong. My heart races and my breath comes out in pants. His eyes find mine and he winks at me.

Fuck! Why is that so hot?

I squirm under his heated stare. His eyes locked on mine, he yanks on my panties, ripping them apart. I don’t give a single fuck about them. All I want is his mouth, on me, this very second.

His eyes sparkle with wicked intent as he leans even further in and his breath flutters across my wet flesh, causing my hips to instinctively arch into him. He groans, never taking his eyes off mine, and uses his thumbs to spread me open.

“I’ve been desperate to taste you since the second you stormed into my office,” he murmurs, his calloused thumbs slowly slipping up and down, touching, but not where I want it, where I need it.

I don’t even care how it sounds.

I can’t wait.

I beg. “Please, Savage, just…”

He chuckles, and, without any preliminaries, slides his thick tongue through my folds, from my ass to my clit, flicking it with the tip before plunging it into my dripping cunt.

I bow off the table, dropping my head back, and rocking against him.

He devours me.

Digging my hands into his hair, I pull him closer while he swirls his tongue around my clit in a figure-eight motion that has me making sounds I don’t even recognize as human.

Sliding one, then two fingers into my pussy, I clench around him, desperate for something to grip. He moans against my flesh, sending my entire body into sensation overload. I chase my orgasm, the week of pent-up frustrations coiling deep in my core, about to reach a breaking point.

He curls his fingers into my G-spot as he sucks my clit between my lips in a pulsing rhythm that has me spiraling out of control. I finally break, splintering and crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure roll through me.

Fuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkk.

When my orgasm finally ebbs, I shift up onto my shaking arms and watch as he lifts his head from between my legs, a smug smile on his face.

“Come here.” He tugs on my hand until I slide to the edge of the table and lean down to him. He captures my mouth, and tasting my release on his tongue is sexy as fuck.

But, I want nothing more than to know what he tastes like in my mouth right now.

Just as I’m about to slide down off the table and return the favor, the phone on his desk lets out a shrill ring.

“Fuck.” He pulls away from me with an apologetic smile and turns to his desk, yanking up the phone. “What?” He barks at whatever poor sap is on the other end. I almost feel bad for him, until my clit throbs and I remember what was interrupted.