Hawke

  Vale hesitates a moment, and I know this even with my back turned to her because the hallway has loose floorboards under the carpet that squeak when you walk on them. I remember this from the other morning when I was making my way out of her apartment, chased by demons of the past and the uncertainty of my present. I suspect her hesitation is merely the result of being mired in as much awkward confusion as I've been.

  Finally, I hear a squeak, and then another, and I know Vale has decided to come into the living room. My shoulders remain tense as I prepare to jump my first hurdle.

  Getting her out of this apartment.

  My head turns to look at her over the back of the couch, finding her eyes pinned on me. Christ, she looks sexy as fuck in a tight tank top and sweatpants that fit her just a little too good, despite the fact they're rattier than all get out.

  "You might want to change," I tell her as I give her body a quick rake before standing from the couch.

  She blinks at me in surprise, coming to a dead stop just to the side of her dad's recliner. He's got it collapsed into a sitting position, his back ramrod straight. He's prepared for a fight if one should occur.

  "Change for what?" Vale looks between her dad and me with befuddlement.

  "Hawke's taking you out," Dave pipes in with a firm voice. Almost a command.

  "Out where?" she demands.

  "To a movie," I smoothly lie to her. "Your dad and I think you need to get out of this apartment and do something fun. All you do is work."

  Vale's eyes narrow at me, then slide over to her dad without widening a millimeter. "You both decided I need some fun?"

  "Something like that," Dave says with a smirk, then gives her a wink.

  Vale's gaze travels back to me, and her eyebrows raise in question. "And you're the person that's going to give it to me, I suppose?"

  Oh, baby...you have no idea, I think to myself. Because, yeah...sure, I want to talk to Vale. I want to put all the cards on the table, get the truth of why she ditched me all those years ago, and I want to come to peace with that.

  But I want to fuck her again, and that's the part I most certainly didn't tell Dave about. I'm quite certain I can get that to happen, and that's without any degree of ego talking. Vale and I are just magnetized to each other, particularly when it comes to sex. She's cut ties with the toad, she's already given herself to me once, and it's damn well going to happen again.

  Tonight as a matter of fact.

  I know this because I decided that no matter what Vale says to me tonight, no matter what her reasons are for crushing my heart, I've decided I'm going to accept it and let it go. With that nastiness out of the way, then I'm going to fuck her again.

  And again, if I'm lucky.

  This was my epiphany. A cleansing of our history and a monstrous orgasm deep inside the one woman who once used to rock my world.

  But she just thinks we're going to a movie and I'm okay with that little lie for right now.

  "Come on, Vale. Shake a leg. Go put some clothes on and let's see a movie. You can relax, let your mind escape," I say with what I hope is sincere and genuine interest in her well-being.

  Vale chews on her lower lip in consideration of the offer. She looks back down at her dad, who immediately raises up a defensive hand and growls, "Don't you dare even suggest that you can't leave me alone for a few hours. I'm fine and I want you to go."

  She capitulates way easier than I thought she would, which fills me with elation. While she may be as confused as I am as to the weirdness of our current relationship, she definitely wants to spend more time with me.

  Or at the least, isn't averse to the idea.

  It only takes ten minutes for Vale to change and for us to hit the road. She assures her dad she'll be back well before midnight, but I know that's not fucking happening if I have my way. She'll be in my bed all night and I can bring her home in the morning. I'll text Dave later to let him know.

  We manage to fill the awkward void with small talk about the game last night. It's engaging enough that Vale pays no attention when I leave the beltline, nor does she seem to pay any attention when we drive farther north, away from Raleigh. It's only when I put on my turn signal in preparation to pull into my neighborhood does she sort of jolt in her seat.

  "Where are we?" she asks hesitantly.

  "My subdivision."

  "You said we were going to a movie." Her voice is guarded, her posture stiff and unsure.

  "We can watch a movie at my house. It will be more comfortable," I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

  As I navigate my way through the dark roads lit periodically with streetlamps or the glow from landscape lighting, Vale crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive move. She almost sniffs with suspicion. "If you hadn't just come to my apartment to get me and let my dad know I was with you, I'd think maybe you were bringing me to your house to murder me or something."

  "Why would you say that?" I ask her.

  "Because you lied to me to get me out of the house. You inferred we were going out to a movie."

  "Okay," I say as I pull into my driveway. I hit the garage door opener and pull my car inside. After putting it in park, I turn to her. "So I lied. I wanted some time alone for us to talk."

  "Talk? About what?" she asks, but I can tell she knows damn well what I want to talk about.

  I don't answer but just stare at her through the gloom of the dark garage lit only by the electronics from my stereo system. I continue to stare at her until she looks a bit uncomfortable, and finally she starts shaking her head.

  "No," she says emphatically. "I'm not talking about that."

  "About what?" I say innocently.

  "You know what," she grits out.

  "Fine," I say in exaggerated concession as I open the car door. The overhead lamp floods the interior with light and I see her skeptical look. "Let's go inside and just watch a movie. I'm sure we can find something good on pay-per-view."

  I don't look back at her but walk around the car and over to the door that leads to the mudroom just off the kitchen. I hear the car door open and close again, indicating she's following me in. I unlock the door, step through, and then hold it open for Vale to come in. She walks up the two steps that lead into the mudroom, looking around with interest. The glow of the kitchen lights leads her that way. I close the door, turn, and just as she enters the kitchen almost apprehensively, I take two long strides and scoop her up in my arms.

  Vale lets out a startled cry while her arms automatically go around my neck. I'm not stupid enough to think that means she's comfortable with this exact situation. Her arms are looped for leverage but her body is stiff as a board.

  "What are you doing?" she hisses as I hit the staircase and bound up them two at a time, her weight absolutely not slowing me down in the slightest.

  "I lied again," I tell her without an ounce of remorse. My bedroom door is open, the bedside lamp on so I need to do nothing but walk up to the bed and drop her on the mattress. While I still have boxes lined up against the wall that hold most of my winter clothing, I have at least put linens on the bed. "We're going to talk."

  Vale immediately pushes up and crab walks to the edge of the bed, intent on scrambling off. "No we're not," she seethes. "I don't appreciate being manhandled or forced to do anything, much less talk to a conceited gorilla like you."

  I merely bend, slip my hands under her armpits and give her a little lift off the mattress. I throw her back to the middle where she bounces once and before coming to a solid rest, I move my body over hers to pin her in place.

  A snarl of outrage bubbles up in her throat, but before it can bust free, I kiss her. I kiss her to shut her up. I kiss her to keep her preoccupied. I kiss her because I'm dying to kiss her again, and it just seemed the right thing to do at the time.

  While my intent was to talk first, then fuck second, I'm getting that a change of order is warranted. This is made abundantly clear by the fact that the minute my lips touch Vale's, her arms go a
round my neck and the snarl of outrage makes an appearance as a low hum of approval in her throat.

  Fucking perfect. She may not want to talk, but Vale wants me.

  Just as I want her still.

  I lower my body onto hers, reach up, and pull her hands from my neck. Raising her arms, I pin her wrists to the mattress and kiss her deeply. She responds, all open mouth and soft lips. Her tongue dances...no, duels with mine. With her beneath my body, hands pinned helplessly, the only thing she has left to fight me with is her tongue, and it feels damned good, those attempts.

  It doesn't take long...never did...for our breathing to become heavy.

  For Vale to start squirming underneath me.

  For my dick to become achingly hard.

  I briefly consider going for the talk first. I could straddle her, keep her wrists pinned, and force her to talk. But the lance of frustrated pain right through my balls tells me that's a bad idea. I need to fuck her. I think she needs it too. Besides, a good orgasm will loosen both of us up so we can finally clear the air between us.

  In fact, I know a fantastic way to loosen Vale up. Pushing up, I release her wrists and straddle the tops of her thighs. She raises her head and looks at me with lust-blurred eyes. I use the few moments I know that she'll be dizzy from our foreplay to move as quickly as I can. I undo her jeans, scramble backward, and pull the denim material with silky panties underneath right down her legs to her ankles. The flash of red and green from the roses on her inner left thigh offends me but I don't pay it any attention. It's not my end goal.

  From the foot of the bed, I pull off the dainty black ballet flats she had on before stripping the jeans and underwear right from her body. I can see comprehension starting to dawn on her face, and to avert a flight response, I take her by the ankles. Yanking her legs apart, exposing that sweetest and most delectable part of Vale's body, I take a moment to stare at my prize. The haze of red and green roses seems to throb in my peripheral vision, but I don't let it distract me.

  In fact, I slide my gaze up her body, the top half of Vale completely covered with a plain, navy blue T-shirt, and meet her eyes head on. Those verdant orbs spark with lust, anger, fear, and challenge.

  "We're talking after this," I warn her, just in case she thinks I'll get sidetracked from my ultimate goal.

  She gives a grunt of denial and now all I see is challenge left on her face.

  I give her a return evil grin and crawl onto the bed between those gorgeous legs. Flopping down, face hovering right over her pussy, I use my arms to drape her legs over my shoulders, that offensive tattoo laying inches from my right ear. I push that thought away, spread her apart, and run my tongue up her center.

  "Hawke," Vale cries out loudly as her hands fly to my head. Her fingers sink into my hair, grasp hard, and then hold me in place.

  She's all in. So am I.

  I lower my mouth to her again and I go to town. I eat her out as if my life depended on it, intent on giving her a climax so dizzying she won't think twice about me flipping her over and fucking her from behind.

  Fuck, she tastes good. She squirms underneath me, punching her hips up, demanding more. She makes mewling sounds, pulls so hard on my hair I'm pretty sure it's close to ripping out, and calls my name softly...imploring me to finish her off.

  When I stab my tongue in deep, her legs fall off my shoulders and her knees spread wide in complete and utter surrender. That vividly monstrous tattoo flashes again in my periphery and I can't fucking help myself.

  I raise my face up from her, go to an elbow, and wipe my mouth off. Vale's hands release me and her head immediately pops up to look down at me with pleading question. She was close to coming; I could tell because her body is still the same. I know exactly what flick of the tongue would set her off too, but that's forgotten momentarily.

  My eyes drop down and to the right. For the first time since last weekend in my bathroom, I take a look at the blanket of roses that obliterated me from Vale's body. Deep red petals of blood with thick layers of vines and leaves; sharp thorns sticking out, all of which is woven through a pale white lattice that runs up her inner thigh.

  I literally can't stomach it, so I look back up at her. My voice is raw and tinged with anger. "I hate that fucking tattoo."

  Vale's eyes go soft with understanding and her lips curve up in an empathetic smile. She reaches a hand out and strokes my jaw. Then she stuns me by the confidence in her voice when she says, "Look at it again."

  I blink at her, trying to understand the message she might be trying to impart.

  Does she want me to man up? Own the pain?

  "Look at it, Hawke," she murmurs. "Look at it closely."

  Her eyes aren't challenging me anymore, but are full of encouragement. I doubt the genuine nature of her gaze, but still my head turns to look back at the tattoo.

  Blood-red petals, dark green vines and leaves. White lattice.

  I look closer.

  The roses are ordinary but done with good detail. They are of varying sizes and shapes, some fully bloomed, while others are just tight buds. The leaves are all original in design, some even bending and overlapping others. The lattice is pale white rungs--five in all--which are interesting, because you don't see white ink used often. But they are set off nicely with the layer of roses and leaves thickly woven in between them providing contrast.

  In fact, if memory serves, the rungs are spaced apart almost directly over the place where my name resides under this fresh layer of ink. I bend in closer, place my fingertip on her skin, and trace the space between the first and second rungs.

  And that's when I see it.

  The letter H.

  I peer closer, narrowing my eyes. I stare hard at the greenery, let my vision go lax, and focus.

  And almost like it's emerging from a forest of craftily inked camouflage, my name starts to appear.

  H-A-W-K-E.

  All five letters, one in the space between each rung, still there but completely surrounded by leaves and roses so it's almost unreadable.

  She didn't cover my name.

  My gaze slams back to hers.

  Chapter 18

  Vale

  Unmitigated relief shines in Hawke's eyes and they glow bluer than I think I've ever seen them. I expect a tender sentiment, maybe a statement of surprise, but he shocks the hell out of me when he growls, "Fuck me," and surges up my body. He lifts my left leg, clasping his hand firmly behind my knee. He glances at the tattoo again, mutters "Fuck me" again, and then turns that intensity straight to me.

  "Get my jeans undone," he says in a guttural voice rippling with urgency.

  I don't think to question. My hands pop the button with ease, slide the zipper with practiced efficiency. I push the denim easily off his hips with no constraining underwear beneath. My name flashes almost as if it's drawn in neon ink, cursively written over his right hip bone. I wonder what it says about this man--who I hurt so badly that he wouldn't give me the courtesy of talking to me again--that he kept that tattoo visible. Why not eradicate it? Why not cover it? Why leave it there for other women to see?

  I banish those thoughts because there's no room in my head for them at this moment. I take his erection in hand, feeling its steely warmth pulsing with need.

  Need to be inside of me. I know this is what Hawke wants, and God help me, I want it too. I want it more than anything, consequences be damned, and knowing full well that the moment of truth lays just on the other side of an orgasm.

  I rub the tip of him up against me. He groans when he feels my wetness.

  I position him just so and--

  Slam.

  All the way in, to the root. My back arches off the bed and I cry out with a mix of pleasure and pain.

  "Fuck me," he whispers for a third time as he lowers his forehead to rest against mine. "You didn't cover my name."

  "I couldn't," I whisper back to him, my hands coming tentatively to his shoulders.

  He needed to hear that. Not only di
d he need to see it, but he needed to hear the truth of my limits. That I couldn't get rid of something that held such meaning. While I'm sure this provided much confusion to his mind, because let's face it--I cut him loose but kept his name on my skin--he didn't let that stop him from fucking me swiftly and with purpose.

  Hawke pounds my body, eerily reminiscent of the way in which he fucked me when I first got that tattoo. Raw power, domination, and unadulterated emotion flowing from hips to cock to deep within me. For the second time, we have sex without protection. Like we've done oh so many times in the past, our orgasms slam into us with a brutal honesty attesting to the affinity we have for each other, completely shattering every last bit of resistance within us.

  If I expected Hawke to let his blood cool and his ardor to soften, I would have been mistaken. He places elbows to mattress and grinds his pelvis against me. He looks at me soberly. "Tell me the truth. I want to know why you did it."

  My face tilts to the side, my eyes drop down to the mattress as I try to collect my thoughts. But Hawke is having none of that. As swift as a snake striking, his hand grabs my jaw and swings my face so I'm forced to look at him.

  "Eyes on me, Vale," he commands. "And tell me all of it."

  I know it's time for us to put all the cards on the table, but I'm still irritated with the lack of respect he's giving me. I intend to tell him and I don't need to be forced.

  My hands come to his chest and I give a mighty heave. I try to make my words calm but they still come out gritted and angry. "I'll tell you what you want to know but get off me. Give me some space."

  Hawke looks slightly chastened but doesn't make a move. So I push harder against his chest and reiterate. "Get off. Let me sit up."

  With a frustrated sad sigh, Hawke pushes off, slides his half-hard dick out of me, and drops to the side of the bed on his back. Digging his feet into the mattress, he lifts his hips and pulls his jeans up, tugging the zipper into place but not bothering with the button. While I scramble up to sit cross-legged, he merely rolls to his side, head cushioned in the palm of his hand with his elbow on the mattress. I self-consciously pull the sheet up over my lap now that the glow of lust and intimacy is gone, particularly now that Hawke is fully dressed. Hawke reaches out and pulls it off me, murmuring, "Don't. Nothing between us right now."