THE HOTEL ROOM WAS WARM, COZY and shockingly intimate, but that wasn’t what caught Abby’s breath. No, that came from the sight of Hawk, naked except the towel, stretched out for her perusal.
Or for whatever she chose.
Handcuffed to the headboard, eyes dark and full and steady on hers, he made quite the sight. If she thought too much about what she’d like to do to him, she’d probably die of embarrassment.
So she didn’t think.
She just did. “I saw you,” she whispered. “That first day on the job, without a shirt. I wanted to touch.”
“That would have worked for me.”
“But I didn’t know you then.”
His eyes met hers. “And you think you know me now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not talking about the ATF part, Abby.”
“Me either.”
“Most people don’t see past that, you know.”
Something in his careful tone caught her. Softened her. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can see why. As an ATF agent, you’re pretty impressive. But that’s not what draws me to you.”
Again, his gaze met hers, and for the first time ever, she saw a hint of vulnerability. She thought maybe that was the most arousing thing about him, even though he was built like a pagan statue, all golden skin stretched taut over defined muscle.
Like her, he wasn’t good at showing people what was beneath the exterior. Probably that drew her more than anything.
He had scars, lots of them, some old and some very new. A dark bruise bloomed over his ribs. Several inches below that, he had another on his hipbone, partially hidden by the towel.
She found herself wanting to touch each and every single one. So she reached out and lightly put the pad of her finger to one of his pecs. He made a low sound and went very still, so very carefully still she knew he was exercising every bit of control he had. She was running the show, and he wanted her to know it.
A rush of gratitude and warmth flooded her at that. He understood.
People had tried to understand in the past year. Friends. Family.
Men.
Gaines had tried to understand, had claimed to get it, and yet there’d remained something far too aggressive about him, and she hadn’t been able to get past that.
Hawk, too, was a big, bad, aggressive alpha guy, through and through. In work, in play, even in rest, everything about him suggested that he could be ready for anything in a blink of an eye.
And yet he hadn’t aimed that aggression at her. Hell, he hadn’t even done so when she’d been wrestling him down to the ground in the midst of explosions and fire. He’d rolled her beneath him, yes. He’d held her down, yes. But never to simply exert his superior strength over her.
Now he’d given her free rein to do as she would to him. And, God, the things she wanted to do…She’d started out at his side, but somehow after she’d kissed him, she’d ended up sprawled out, half on top of him. Abby could feel the power of him beneath her, latent, edgy power, all contained and controlled. It was intoxicating. It made her tingly and uncomfortably hot.
He made her feel…sensual. Yeah, that was it. He made her feel sexy in a way she hadn’t expected to feel again, at least not now, not with him.
So she kissed him again. He was aroused, she could feel that, too, nudging at her hip, and instead of worrying her, she felt a rush of excitement. Real, true lust. She was damp with it, even. Their mouths were touching, they were breathing each other’s air, but it wasn’t enough.
She opened her eyes and found his open as well, filled with heat, patience and amusement.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
He gave a shake of his head. “I thought I was dead tonight. Several times. But that was nothing to this.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re killing me, Abby. Killing me with your sweetness, your heat-no, don’t stop.”
She’d begun to pull away, but saw that he wasn’t making fun of her.
He wanted her to keep going.
And shockingly, she wanted to do just that. Cupping his face, she slid her finger along his rough jaw, tilting it a little before kissing him again.
“Deeper,” he urged so very softly she might have imagined it. She opened her mouth, then ran her tongue along his lower lip, an action that wrenched a guttural groan from him. His free hand came up, gripping the headboard next to his bound one, as if he didn’t trust himself not to touch her. But she trusted him, so she did as he’d asked and deepened the kiss, getting a little lost in the heat of him, in the taste, in the way they were moving.
And then she found she yearned for his hands on her. “Hawk, touch me.”
“Abby-”
“Please? Touch me.”
He let go of the headboard to stroke his hand down her back in a languid, sensual motion that had her stretching and nearly purring like a cat. She’d missed this. Being touched. Although she couldn’t ever remember a man’s touch making her want to melt into a puddle at his feet. Needing more, she kissed him again and his fingers tightened on her shirt, fisted in the material at the small of her back, urging her a little closer.
When she ran her tongue along his, he made a low sound and slid his hand beneath her shirt. His fingers were callused, and his touch curled her toes as they stroked up and down, catching on her bra strap. And then somehow she was fully on top of him, kissing him wildly, spiraling out of control.
With another of those low sexy noises deep in his throat, he rocked his hips to hers, nestling his erection against her core. Surprised, she jerked.
“Sorry,” he gasped, and pulled back, removing his hand from beneath her shirt, slapping it back on the headboard next to his bound one, face tight, body tighter.
“No-”
“I’m going to close my eyes,” he said in a hoarse voice, doing just that. “It might help if I can’t see how you look sitting there touching me, the feel of you on my skin, the look on your face as it hits you what that touch is doing to me-” He winced. “Christ. Even my own words are turning me on.”
“Hawk, I’m not that fragile.”
“I know.”
“I just didn’t know if I was ready for this-”
“I know that, too. It’s okay, I have a grip now.” A white-knuckled one. “Let’s try again.”
Abby wanted to. More than anything. Because something had occurred to her. She felt no sense of panic, no claustrophobia at all as she let her fingers fall from his jaw, over his throat, down his chest, damp now, and rising and falling more quickly than when he’d run through the woods. She skimmed his abs, those amazing, sexy abs, which she wanted to trace with her tongue, then touched the edge of the towel where it was tucked into itself. It loosened.
Gaped away from those abs.
And her mouth watered. “Hawk, can I-”
“Anything,” he said hoarsely, his eyes closed, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallowed hard. “Any-god- damn-thing you want.”
Biting her lower lip, she scooted back on his thighs so that she could bend down and press her mouth to his chest.
Feminine power surged through her, and she opened her mouth and licked him. He let out another rough sound but didn’t move. She watched as his nipples puckered.
Hers did the same.
And then, almost without her brain’s approval, her fingers tugged on his towel. It slipped free, and then
