Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (7 page)

Fuck.

I completely lose it, dropping my face into my hands in a fruitless attempt to hide my beet-red face and bone-deep embarrassment. Savage is something else, that’s for sure. His response only endears him to me while making me even more aware of my constant verbal diarrhea, which only seems to happen around him.

Thankfully, before he can say anything else, our food arrives. I’m able to down the rest of my glass of water while our plates are set on the table.

“Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Hawke?” the waiter asks after refilling our wine glasses.

“No, Michael, thank you.”

Michael disappears and I’m left staring at a plate of
fra diavolo
with linguine and shrimp piled high. I grab my fork and twist it in the pasta, trying to get a manageable bite so I don’t end up shoveling dangling pasta and spraying red sauce all over myself.

Just as I am about to slide my first bite into my mouth, Savage clears his throat. I look up at him and melt under his wicked grin.

“I hope you like things spicy.”

You have no fucking idea, Savage. No idea.

Our dessert arrives and we both dig in, my hard cock throbbing when she moans at her first bite of tiramisu. She wraps her lips around her fork and pulls it out slowly, her eyes closed and head tilted slightly back. “Oh, my God, this is absolutely amazing.”

She’s doing it intentionally. She has to be. No woman can be this overtly sexual without trying.

I clear my throat and take a sip of water to wet my suddenly parched throat. “I’m glad you like it.”

Dinner has been both exhilarating and excruciating. Every word out of her mouth has me more convinced she’s absofuckinglutely perfect for me. She’s brilliant, sarcastic, funny—even when she isn’t trying to be—and sexy as hell. Watching her lips while she eats and talks is like watching porn two feet in front of me.

The constant hard-on I’ve had for the last two hours will definitely need some attention later, but it’s worth it. Asking Danika to dinner is the best decision I’ve ever made—even if my cock might not currently agree. It’s like I stepped back in time to freshman year of high school when every look, smile, or giggle from a girl had me sporting wood. Under any other circumstances, I might be embarrassed by my body’s reaction to her, but I’m not. I just wish there were a way to control my raging hard-on so I could make it through dessert a bit easier.

Three bottles of wine aren’t helping me keep my desires in check. I’ve barely been able to restrain myself from pulling her onto my lap and letting her ride me right here in Angelo’s. I’ve never been into public sex, but with her, I can’t even imagine the restraint it would require to sit next to her in a car all the way home before getting her naked and plunging into her.

Danika drains the last of the wine from her glass and sets it on the table before looking around the restaurant. I follow her gaze and realize the rest of the place has emptied out; we’re the only table left.

Her eyes meet mine, and that adorable blush races up her neck from her chest. “Damn, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“I don’t mind.” I smile at her and reach out to take her hand in mine across the table. I gently run my thumb across her knuckles and she shudders, sending quivers down my arm and straight to my already-strained cock.

She bites her bottom lip and glances away. “I hope you don’t have to get up early. I would feel awful keeping you up.”

Christ, if she only knew.

“Actually,” I say, pulling her hand to my mouth and pressing my lips to her knuckles, “I do. I have to catch a plane to San Diego in the morning for my brother’s law school graduation ceremony. It isn’t until next Friday, but my whole family will be flying out for it, and we have a lot planned this week.”

“Oh.” She casts her eyes down, then away again.

Yes!

As horrible as it sounds, I’m pleased to see the disappointment in her eyes at learning I’ll be gone for the next week. That’s a really fucking good sign, the best I can really ask for right now.

I wait for her eyes to return to mine. “But, I would love to see you when I get back. I get in late Friday night, so maybe dinner on Saturday?” I brush my lips over her hand, and she shudders again.

She smiles at me and squeezes my hand gently. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good.” I release her hand and motion for Michael to come over to the table. “Michael, can you please tell Gabe I need him to drive Ms. Eriksson home?”

Gabe usually joins me for dinner on Friday nights, but tonight, he spent his time at the bar talking with Stephanie, one of his go-to girls. I’m sure I’ll be seeing her leave his condo tomorrow morning while I’m on my way to the airport.

Lucky bastard.

Danika glances around in confusion. “Oh no, I can take a cab. I took one here.”

“Please, it’s no trouble at all. I insist. Gabe is already here anyway. This way, I know you got home safely and won’t be worrying about you all night.” The thought of her taking a cab, alone, dressed like that makes my skin crawl. I know exactly what every man who sees her will be thinking; the exact same thing I am. And while I may have some self-control when it comes to Danika, I don’t trust any other man to get within ten feet of her, except Gabe. He may be a player, but he’s also loyal as fuck and would never do anything to interfere with a woman I’m interested in.

Letting out a reluctant sigh, she nods her agreement and stands when Michael returns from speaking with Gabe.

She turns back toward the table and offers me a smile and my heart flip-flops in my chest.

Be careful, Savage. This one will hurt you.

“Goodnight, Savage. Thank you for dinner.” She leans down and kisses me gently on the cheek, her warm breath lingering against my skin before she pulls away. Goosebumps spread down my arms and my already painfully hard dick throbs against my pants.

I want to grab her and yank her down into my lap so I can devour her mouth, but I restrain myself, instead smiling at her, telling her how much I enjoyed our evening with as much composure as I can muster.

I track her progress across the restaurant to the bar, where Michael introduces her to Gabe. He tosses me a wave over his shoulder, and she glances back at me before disappearing out the front door. The moment she vanishes from my sight, my heart sinks and I bite out a curse.

This woman could break me—easily—and I am more than willing to let her.

I lean back in my seat and run my hands through my hair with a groan.

Angelo drops into the seat Danika just vacated and raises his eyebrows. We’ve known each other for years and our post-dinner, closing-time chats have usually been very lighthearted and relaxing. Tonight, the look on his face says this one will be anything but. Probably because she’s the first woman I’ve brought here in over four years.

“What?” I ask before draining my wine glass.

“How did it go?”

Twirling the empty glass in my hand, I give him the play-by-play of the last several hours, including Danika’s slips of the tongue and adorable blushing incidents. “So, great, I guess.”

“You guess?” he asks skeptically. “It sure sounds like it couldn’t have gone better, so what am I missing?”

I let out a deep sigh and place the glass on the table before dropping my face into my hands—anything to avoid looking him in the eye when I tell him. “She doesn’t know.”

I knew she wouldn’t find anything when she researched me. I pay my lawyers a lot of money to keep my personal business out of the papers.

He releases a long breath and whistles before he gives a humorless chuckle. “Then, my friend, you have a major problem.”

Understatement of the fucking year.

I lie in bed staring at the clock on my nightstand, mentally counting back two hours to figure out what time it is in California. 2:00 a.m. here means midnight there.

Fuck. Do I call him?

Not if I don’t want to look desperate.

It’s only been two days since I saw him last.

Calm your tits and give it a little time.

I roll onto my back, sprawling across the bed, and stare at the ceiling fan, watching the paddles spin round and round until I get dizzy and have to clench my eyes shut. Sleep has been elusive since my dinner with Savage. If I get any at all, it’s fitful and short, and I end up having to bust out BOB to fulfill my middle of the night needs the Savage sex dreams create.

After his buddy, Gabe, dropped me off at my apartment on Saturday night, I tried to go to bed immediately. I figured after three bottles of wine, I was wasted enough to crash right away. But, instead, I spent most of the night replaying every word we said to each other and thinking about every heated look he threw at me. Mostly, though, I thought about how his eyes and his mouth looked when he told me he wanted to bury his face between my legs and stick his tongue in my pussy.

Who the fuck talks like that? Savage Hawke, apparently.

My pussy clenches and my clit throbs just remembering that look when he said it. I have no doubt that man would know
exactly
what to do if I ever let him between my legs. I press my thighs together, but it’s no use. Two nights of masturbating thinking about Savage have not been enough to ease the deep ache he put there.

Work hasn’t helped either. I thought maybe concentrating on my story on top of my daily assignments—really exhausting myself and staying late—would help keep my mind off that man, but it was futile. Flashes of his smile, his strong hands, the brush of his lips against my skin, the smell of his cologne when I kissed him goodnight, they just kept coming until I finally gave up and gave in to the fantasy.

I glance at the clock again—2:09 a.m.

Nine minutes? Fuck. It felt like nine hours.

Mentally slapping myself, I reach out and grab a pillow, pressing it over my face to muffle my frustrated scream.

Don’t give in. Don’t give him the power.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I love men who display their power. Strong, powerful men are a fucking drug to me and I am a hopeless addict…as long as they don’t want more than a hard, fulfilling fuck. The whole relationship thing is just not in the cards. Not after seeing what losing my dad did to my mom. I can’t ever rely on someone like that for my own happiness.

Once I get Savage out of my system, I’ll move on, like I always do. He doesn’t seem to be the type who will be willing to just be friends with benefits so it may be a one-time thing, but something tells me it will totally be worth it.

Admitting that helps any reluctance fly out the window and I grab my cell phone off the nightstand along with the card that came with the roses he sent—the one with his cell phone number scrawled in neat cursive along the bottom.

You are probably going to regret this.

The beeps as I press the numbers into my phone are exceedingly loud in my silent bedroom. I enter it as a new contact, but instead of hitting “Call,” I open a message box and type the first thing that comes to mind.

< Hey! What are you doing? >

Jesus, that was lame.