Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (41 page)

Ditto.

“Then, why are you trying to push me away again?”

He recoils slightly, confusion in his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Then stop talking nonsense. Baby, I’m not worried about our sex life.”

“How can you possibly say that?”

“Well, there have to be a thousand different ways to have sex. The Kama Sutra alone has sixty-four positions.”

He groans. “I don’t want to know how you know that. Seriously.”

I roll my eyes and continue, “My point is, we try and figure out what works. And if all else fails, I don’t care if I have to ride you like Seabiscuit.”

His laughter fills my ears and eases the tension in my chest. “Really? Seabiscuit? You need to update your analogies, American Pharoah baby, American Pharoah.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I pull his face to mine and attack his mouth with my own. All this talk of sex is making me horny as hell. I rock my hips against his, pressing down on his hardening cock. His arms come up around my back, tugging me closer until our chests touch, our hearts already racing against each other.

Thank God I don’t have any underwear on, because I can feel the heat of his cock pressing against my flesh through the thin material of his boxers.

“Fuck,” he groans, “you’re wet already.”

I shrug, kissing my way to his ear. “What do you expect? I’ve been imagining riding you like a racehorse.”

He chuckles in my ears and pulls down on my hips, pushing my clit against his hardness.

I growl in his ear. “Take these damn boxers off. Now.”

“God, yes,” he mumbles. I slide down to his knees, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and yanking them down to his thighs, letting his erection spring free.

His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as he yanks me back toward him, capturing his cock between our bodies and crushing his mouth to mine. His all-consuming kiss steals my breath. I let myself go, completely losing myself in him—his kiss, his touch.

Rising up onto my knees, I grasp his cock, positioning the broad head against my wet core. He groans into my mouth. I slowly lower myself down onto his length, his cock stretching and filling me in a way only he can.

Sweet Christ…YES!

I always believed sex was just sex, but with Savage, it isn’t sex. It’s connecting on a level I never knew existed. As I begin to move, taking him into me over and over again, I can’t fathom living my life without him, without this.

Everything else is forgotten when we are together. His hands are everywhere—my face, my breasts, my clit. I can barely keep track as my orgasm builds, preventing any form of thinking from being even remotely possible.

All feeling; no thinking.

Exactly what we both need—reaffirmation of us, of our future, of our love.

The silence of the room is broken only by our moans and the sounds of our flesh colliding in our race for release.

I finally pull away from his mouth, gasping for air as my body heats and the telltale tingle of impending orgasm starts in my core. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” I cry out and slam down on his dick, grinding against his pelvis, taking him as deep as possible.

He slides his tongue along my neck, then sucks my earlobe between his lips. “Come for me,” he whispers, his voice shaking with his body and I know he is fighting his own release.

I whimper and cry out his name when my orgasm washes over me like a tsunami. Wave after wave of pleasure course through my body, my head spinning and my rhythm falters. He catches my mouth as my orgasm wanes, and sucks my tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own.

Rising above him and slamming down, he groans into my mouth. I repeat the move, swirling my hips, and he gasps, his eyes rolling back into his head and his release explodes in my pussy in hot pulses.

He collapses back against the arm of the couch, dragging me with him and wrapping his arms around me, cradling the back of my head against his sweat-dampened t-shirt.

I relax and just let him hold me, praying this isn’t just some cruel dream.

I clutch her close to me, not wanting even an inch of space between us. I know we both needed that, need this, need the connection after everything that has happened.

That I’m going to have to fracture this beautiful reverie with the truth about Abello breaks my heart. She doesn’t deserve this bullshit, but she has somehow found her way here, in the middle of a shit storm she doesn’t know the half of.

She stirs against me and her sleepy eyes meet mine, a small smile spreading across her face before quickly vanishing as she looks at me. “Hey, you look worried. What’s wrong?”

I brush the hair from her face and kiss her, hoping to momentarily delay the inevitable. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Sitting up, she eyes me warily. “What now?”

There is no way I’m having this conversation with my dick still inside her. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up? Then, we’ll talk.”

She makes an adorable growly noise, different but no less sexy than the one she makes when I’m deep inside of her. “Fine, two minutes.”

As she slides my cock from her warm body, we both groan. I pull my boxers back up and she disappears down the hallway toward the bathroom.

When she reappears, so does the wariness in her gaze. She stops next to the couch, watching me suspiciously. “So?”

“Sit back down.” I pat my lap and she sighs, reluctantly dropping down onto it. I plant a quick kiss on her temple before getting down to business. “We need to talk about last night.”

She stiffens immediately and I sense a wall coming up before I can even say another word. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“I understand, baby, and you don’t have to talk. You just need to listen. There are things you don’t know that you really need to.”

“Fine.”

I run my hands through my hair, a bad habit I’ve never been able to break when I’m nervous. “Um, first you need to understand I would have told you all of this a long time ago if I’d known what you were working on. I understand why you didn’t tell me, but once you hear all this, you will know why things might be a lot different if you had known, if I had known.”

“Jesus,” she says, turning on my lap so she can see me, “you’re really starting to freak me out here. Out with it.”

Here goes nothing…

“I know Abello.”

She doesn’t say anything, watching me as if she is waiting for something. “So? Everyone knows who he is.”

“No, I don’t just know who he is. I actually know him. He is kind of my uncle.”

“What?” She flies up off my lap before I can grab her. She looms over me, her surprise and anger evident in her quivering mouth and clenched fists at her sides. “What do you mean, he is ‘kind of your uncle?’”

This is going well.

“Shit, baby, please sit back down.”

“No,” she says, taking two steps back from the couch, intentionally putting herself out of my reach. “Talk.”

“He isn’t my real uncle. We aren’t related. But, he grew up on the same block as my mother and my dad was in his class in school. They all knew each other since, like, grade school. My mom’s best friend growing up was his little sister, Maria.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” she groans, rubbing her hands over her face before turning back to me. I would do anything to spare her the pain I know this is causing her, but I can’t stop now. She needs to know everything.

“When I was little, he was kind of just around a lot. He and my father were friends, and we called him Uncle Dom. When my dad died, he was around even more, constantly checking on us and my mom, making sure we were okay financially or whatever. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I discovered who and what he was. I tried to distance myself from him, and I did, for a long time.”

“But,” she interjects, “I know there is a ‘but.’ There’s always a fucking ‘but.’”

I sigh and then take a deep, cleansing breath. “But, when I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a loan to open the bar. I didn’t have any credit.”

She sneers. “So, you went to Abello.”

“No, of course not, but my mother told him about my struggle finding financing, and one day a check from him just showed up. I called him and told him I didn’t want his money, but he insisted, said my father would have wanted me to have a chance to prove myself as a business owner. He said he had faith in me and would give me five years to pay back the loan, without interest.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, so I took it. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did. I paid it all back in less than two years, and went on with my life and my various business ventures, trying to forget I had ever had ties to him. But, he started asking for favors.”

The nervous look returns to her face and I can only imagine what horrific things she’s imagining Abello may have asked me to do over the years.

“No, never anything like that,” I reassure her. “It was always innocuous stuff, like wanting to use the backroom at the bar for a meeting, or reserving the champagne room and entertaining one of his high-profile guests. Never anything illegal, as far as I could tell.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” she retorts. “He is evil incarnate! I can’t believe you ever let yourself get involved with him.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I clench my hands into fists so hard I think my palms may be bleeding. I think of the position both Danika and I are now in with Abello. “You think I like being tied to a fucking mafia boss for the rest of my life?”

“Fuck!” she screams and begins pacing back and forth between the couch and the coffee table. She’s already freaking out and I haven’t even told her half of it yet. I’m afraid she’ll go nuclear when she finally knows everything.

Deep breath, Savage. Then get it out.

“There’s more.”

She pauses and turns to face me. “You have to be fucking kidding me. What more could there possibly be? You’re basically related to the man who tried to have me killed last night. What the fuck more can there be?”

Her voice rises several octaves as she borders on hysteria, but it does no good to withhold this from her. It’s like ripping off a bandage. Best to get it done quickly.

“When you were researching the mayor, what do you remember finding about his family?”

She closes her eyes briefly before she returns to pacing, alternating between squeezing her hands into fists at her sides and chewing on her nails. “Um, Mayor Dunne’s wife died giving birth, and everyone kind of lost track of his son after he graduated from high school. I think his name was Anderson. The mayor never talks about him.”

Bomb dropping in three…two…one…

“That’s because they haven’t spoken in over ten years.”

She stops in front of me, hands on her hips. “And how the hell would you know that?”

I take a deep breath and attempt to prepare myself for her epic meltdown. “Because Gabe is Mayor Dunne’s son.”

A gasp escapes before she shakes her head. “No, no, that’s impossible. Gabe isn’t a Dunne.”

“His mother’s maiden name was Anderson. They named him Anderson Gabriel Dunne. When he was eighteen, he had his name legally changed to Gabriel Anderson. He enlisted, and he never spoke to his father again.”

She stops and collapses onto the other end of the couch, dropping her head against the back and closing her eyes. “This is like some sick fucking joke.”

“I know, but, baby, I need you to understand how dangerous this is. Abello is not going to let the killing of his right-hand man and two of his lieutenants go unanswered, and by now, he knows not only that you are alive, but that you and I are involved.”

When she turns her head to face me, I see the tears shimmering in her eyes and hold my hand out to her, urging her to come over to me. She resists momentarily, but eventually grabs my hand and lets me pull her up against me.

She buries her face in my chest, and her warm tears splash against me, drenching my shirt.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out.”

“How?” she cries, sobbing so hard she practically chokes herself. “How the hell do we get a mobster to stop trying to fucking kill us?”