Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (28 page)

The corners of those perfectly-colored lips tip up as she looks me over. Thank God the freeze out of the last week has thawed. She was pissed—rip off my balls if I would let her near them pissed—since the whole lingerie/rejection incident. I don’t blame her, I really don’t, but we also never talked about it.

It’s been simmering beneath the surface and I’ve been waiting for things to erupt. I don’t know what’s been holding her back from confronting me about it, but I know why I haven’t mentioned it—fear.

I am utterly terrified she will leave me if I tell her the truth—if I even can. I don’t even know what I would say…how I would tell her…

“Well, you clean up nice.” She stops in front of me and looks down at me with a grin. I tilt my head back, taking her in as she towers over me in her heels.

I spent my entire life towering over people. At six foot three, most men didn’t come eye-to-eye with me. It sounds petty, and vain, but being bigger and stronger than everyone always gave me a sense of pride and confidence in everything I did. Literally looking down on everyone—everyday—can certainly give someone a superiority complex, but it wasn’t like that for me. It was just a sense of knowing my own power.

Until you lose it, you never realize what being on the same level with someone, what looking at them eye-to-eye, actually means. It’s something I still can’t get used to, which is why I spend most of my time behind my desk at the club and I let Gabe and my various restaurant and bar managers handle all the day-to-day operations.

Danika drops to her knees in front of me and pushes my knees apart so she can slide between them. Somehow, she knows exactly what I need in this moment. She reaches out and grabs the ends of my bowtie, tugging on them gently before sliding her hands up to cup my face.

“There,” she says before kissing me and pulling away with a grin, “now you are perfect.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about perfect.” I push her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Well,” she replies, getting to her feet without ever taking her eyes off me, “perfect for me, then.”

I catch her wrist as she turns to walk away. Glancing back over her shoulder, she raises her eyebrow in question. “You look amazing tonight. I’m not sure I want you going anywhere public in that dress.”

She grins and turns to bend down and kiss me again. “Don’t worry, you are the only one who will be able to see up it.”

Thank God! I would murder anyone else who even tried to get a peek.

I burst out laughing as she turns and disappears into the bathroom. She’s probably right. “I’ll meet you by the door,” I call as I slide into my chair and head to the living room.

The click of her heels tells me she’s right behind me and she appears at my side, her clutch tucked under her arm. “Ready?”

“Yep, let’s go.”

The ride to the gallery is short, less than ten minutes through the light drizzle falling over the city. Our driver for the evening is a guy I’ve used before. He’s always prompt and very professional, which I appreciate when Gabe isn’t accompanying me somewhere. Frankly, I’m glad he had plans with one of his bimbos tonight, because I don’t want to do anything but focus my attention on Danika and making sure she has a wonderful evening out.

I owe her that…after everything.

We pull up outside the gallery and I usher Danika inside in front of me, trying to prevent her from getting too wet as the drizzle increases to a steady rain. As soon as we enter, Rick and his sister, Margaret, greet us near the door.

“Savage! So glad you could make it!” Maggie bends down and gives me a hug before turning to Danika. “And you must be Danika. I’ve heard so much about you from Rick. Apparently Savage talks about you constantly at the gym.”

Shit.

“Oh, really?” She glances down at me. “And just what does he say?”

Rick looks momentarily stunned. Then, he smiles and winks at me. “Only good things, of course. It’s nice to finally meet you.” They hug briefly before someone grabs Maggie and drags her off into the gallery. She waves a quick wave goodbye to us. “Sorry, she’s being pulled in a hundred directions tonight, but I guess that’s good. I have to greet some more people. I’ll find you guys later.”

We say goodbye and I follow Danika over toward the right wall of the gallery, where a large canvas is hanging, bright spotlights framing it in a white glow. We stop in front of it and examine the painting. A waiter strolls past and offers us champagne, which we both grab, before returning our attention to Maggie’s work.

“Is it just me,” Danika asks, glancing down at me, “or is that a giant vagina?”

I almost choke on my champagne. Coughing to clear my windpipe, I take another sip and return my eyes to the painting. Now that she said that, I can’t see anything but pussy.

“Uh, yeah, vag all the way.”

The reds, pinks, and peaches on the canvas melt together in a vertical, oblong oval.

She laughs, rubbing her hand on the back on my neck. “Do you think it was intentional? Is Maggie some big feminist or something?”

I shrug. “Who knows? I’ve only met her a couple times, and I can’t say she ever seemed to have any sort of agenda, at least not one she discussed with me. But, I don’t think there is any way you can paint something like that and not see it looks like a crotch.”

“Agreed,” she says, squeezing my neck gently, “let’s go see another one and see if the pussy theme continues.”

I chuckle and follow her to the next painting, currently being examined intently by someone I know very well.

“Andrew! I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been a while.” He turns toward me, and I can’t miss the surprise in his eyes when he sees me. He looks around the room nervously.

“Savage,” he says, shaking my hand, “it’s, uh, good to see you. You’re looking good.”

His eyes dart away from my face and over my shoulder and he shifts side to side.

“Thanks, you too. This is my girlfriend, Danika.” He smiles at her and shakes her hand, but his unease doesn’t sit well with me.

“Nice to meet you.” His eyes aren’t even on her. He’s looking around the room again.

Why so nervous, old friend?

I realize Danika has no idea who he is and that I’m doing a terrible job at introductions. “Andrew and I were roommates in college,” I explain, “but we haven’t seen each other in over three years.”

“Three years?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “Has it really been that long?”

You know exactly how long it’s been.

I smile despite my annoyance at him playing dumb. “Yep, we haven’t seen each other or even spoken since right before the accident.” I watch his smile falter, now that I’ve called him out and drawn attention to his shitty idea of friendship.

“Oh, yeah, I, uh, guess so.” He runs his left hand back through his hair and the overhead light glints off a gold band on a really important finger. I’m just about to ask him about it when I hear a sudden intake of breath behind me.

“Savage?”

I know that voice.

I know that voice all too well.

What the hell is Rebecca doing here?

She slides into view, her hands, holding a bottle of water and a glass of what I imagine is whiskey, shaking visibly. My eyes immediately drop to the very obvious baby bump accentuated by her skin-tight dress and then shift over to the giant diamond on her ring finger.

Andrew avoids eye contact when I look to him. He grabs the whiskey from her trembling hand, taking a long drink before wrapping his arm around her waist protectively.

Jesus fuck!

“Becca.” I try to keep the disdain from my voice, but Danika’s supportive hand on my neck alerts me I probably failed miserably.

“You, uh, look good.” Her voice shakes as badly as her hand, clenched to white knuckles around the bottle of water.

“Looks like I missed something big here. How long have you two been married?” I watch as they look at each other uncomfortably and then the floor—anywhere but at me.

Andrew is the one who finally has the balls the answer. “About two and a half years.”

Two and a half years. She didn’t even wait a year after leaving me to marry one of my best friends.

“Wow, you don’t take long, do you, Becca?” This time, I don’t even bother to try to contain my anger. The tension in the air is as thick as a London fog. Danika squeezes my neck again and then steps toward Becca.

“Hello, Becca, I’m Savage’s girlfriend, Danika. I’ve heard so much about you. I wish I could say any of it was complimentary, but, I’m sure you already know that.”

My heart may have just stopped; my breathing certainly has.

Where the hell did that come from?

I don’t know, but I’ve never been more ecstatic Danika doesn’t have a filter than I am at this moment, seeing the look on Becca and Andrew’s faces.

Turning to me, Danika raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Let’s go enjoy the exhibit.”

I nod and move around a speechless Andrew. Becca, on the other hand, has started that damn whimper that always began before she started to cry. How I ever found her, or that, attractive, is beyond me.

Danika strolls to the far side of the gallery and drops down onto a bench facing another large, vaginal masterpiece. I stop next to her, afraid to look at her after the way I lost my shit in front of my ex.

“No,” she says firmly, “turn around and look at me.”

I sigh and follow her command.  I expect to see anger, annoyance, even jealousy in her eyes, but all I find is compassion and understanding. “So…your ex seems like a raging cunt.”

I drop my head into my hands and laugh, and it feels really fucking good. Danika is a genius at pulling me from my darkest moods with her smart mouth. I look up at her and find her smiling at me, watching me expectantly. A waiter passes next to us and she stops him, grabbing two more glasses of champagne.

“We need these.” She hands me one and I drink half of it in one gulp, while she does the same.

That had to be uncomfortable for her, no matter how much she’s trying to be supportive. “I’m sorry…”

“No,” she says, sitting forward toward me, “you don’t apologize for those assholes. Let’s just forget they exist and get back to enjoying all the lovely pussy art.”

Grinning, I lean forward until we are a breath from each other. “You’re pretty incredible, you know that?”

She bats her eyelashes coquettishly. “I do.”

“Good.” I kiss her, intending it to be sweet and gentle, but she slides her arms around my neck and crushes her mouth against me, twining her tongue with mine.

When she pulls away, she smiles at me and stands, draining her champagne before walking over to the painting. “So, what do you think of this one?”

The sexual tension in the elevator on the ride back up to Savage’s place is palpable. We didn’t see Becca and Andrew the rest of the evening. I imagine after our encounter with them, they fled the gallery as quickly as possible. Somehow, we managed to forget the awkwardness and tension of the confrontation and still have a wonderful evening together.

Maggie definitely loves vagina. I don’t know if she’s a lesbian or not, but she definitely has love for the female anatomy. There’s simply no other explanation for the walls upon walls of paintings depicting female genitalia. The snickers and looks from the other patrons at the event make me confident we were not the only ones to notice a theme. That being said, the woman has talent. A lot of talent. If I were a gynecologist, I would have bought one of the pieces for my waiting room. It would certainly be a conversation piece.

Staring at vagina and flirting with Savage all night, not to mention the four or five glasses of champagne we both drank, left me wet, hot, and needy by the time we climbed into the car. Savage must have sensed my distress, because almost as soon as we got on the road, his hand was sliding up my thigh and between my legs.

The moment his fingers found my wet core and clit, I almost cried out in relief. Somehow, I managed to bite my lip and control myself so the poor driver didn’t have to sit and listen to us fooling around in the backseat like horny teenagers.

Two fucking times. He made me come twice during that short ten-minute ride. God, that man’s hands…