He steps closer, one hand coming up to cup my face, careful of my bruises. "I mean it. You have a gift."
We stare into each other's eyes for a long, heated moment, and I feel mesmerized, like I’ve been enchanted by a witch's spell. I can’t look away. Does he feel it too?
Before I can ponder the question, he leans down and presses his soft, warm lips to mine in what feels like it was meant to be a brief peck.
But the moment his lips touch mine, a current of desire zings through me, electrifying my whole body. Without thinking, I push up onto my tiptoes, pressing closer, deepening the contact. My fingers clutch his shirt and curl into fists.
Hawk makes a sound low in his throat—something between a growl and a groan—and suddenly his arms are around me, lifting me onto the counter. My legs part instinctively to make room for him, and he steps between them, his large hands spanning my hips.
His lips are firm but gentle, coaxing rather than demanding as they move against mine. I've never been kissed before. I often imagined what it would feel like when I watched couples kiss on TV or in movies. But this...this far exceeds anything I could have envisioned. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him, gasping as it plunges inside, tangling seductively with mine.
One of his hands slides up my back, cupping the nape of my neck, while the other drifts down, brushing the strip of skin exposed where my shirt has ridden up. His touch is careful, mindful of my bruises, but there's nothing tentative about the way he claims my mouth.
He tastes like sin and salvation. I'm drowning in sensation, my fingers clutching at his shoulders for support as he kisses me like he's a starving man—starving for the taste of me.
When his hand slides beneath the hem of my shirt, his palm hot against my bare skin, I make a sound I've never heard myself make before—a needy and desperate moan. He breaks the kiss just long enough to search my face, asking a silent question. I nod, not entirely sure what I'm agreeing to, but knowing I want more of whatever this is.
His fingers find the clasp of my bra, tracing along the elastic, and I shiver. He's about to unclasp it and free my breasts when a pounding at the front door interrupts us.
Hawk pulls back slightly, eyes dark with lust. "Ignore it. We don't open for ten more minutes."
Unable to speak, I merely nod, but the pounding grows more insistent, followed by a cacophony of women’s shouts.
Hawk's expression shifts. “Fuck.” He rolls his head back, shuts his eyes, and lets out an exasperated sigh. “They’re not gonna go away.”
Chapter 5
Hawk
Adjusting my jeans to hide my raging boner, I stride to the front door with a scowl firmly in place. Through the glass, pressed against the window like kids at a candy store, I spot exactly who I expected to be there—the club's ol’ ladies. The only one missing is Rose, who is probably home with her new baby.
"We're not open yet!” I point at the hours clearly posted on the door, then cross my arms and mean-mug them through the glass.
Angel, Ghost's woman, cups her hands around her mouth and yells back, "Open up, Hawk! It's important!"
On one side of her, Sophie smashes her face against the glass, distorting her features, and on the other, Luna bounces on her toes. The three of them can’t seem to contain their excitement.
Fuck me. I know exactly why they're here, and it has nothing to do with getting ink. Either Ghost blabbed to Angel or Cipher spilled the beans to Rose—probably both. The brothers gossip like a bunch of cackling hens, and the Shadow Reapers' grapevine works faster than a goddamn fiber optic network.
With a resigned sigh, I unlock the door, swinging it open just enough to block their view inside. "You three realize we don't open for another ten minutes, right? What's so damn urgent you gotta beat on my door like a SWAT team with a warrant?"
Angel, tiny but fierce, tries to peer around me. “Sophie needs a tattoo. Right now. This very minute."
I raise a brow, giving her my best you-gotta-be-shitting-me expression.
Sophie, blonde and angelic-looking, whose big blue eyes had Blade, our VP, wrapped around her finger since day one, nods enthusiastically. "Yes. Emergency tattoo situation!"
Luna, Saint’s petite Latina, doesn't even try to sell the lie. She just grins and attempts to look over my shoulder. "Where is she?"
"Where’s who?" I play dumb, enjoying watching them squirm.
Angel levels me with one of her death stares. "Don't play games with us, Hawk. We know you claimed an old lady.”
"So?" I lean against the doorframe, making no move to let them in.
"So?" Luna's eyes widen. “So, we want to meet her.”
Sophie bounces on her toes. "Is she here? Please say she's here."
