Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (17 page)

He leans and sets his empty glass on the desk before reclining in the chair. “I’d rather hear about what’s going on with you and Savage.” His smirk returns and he watches me squirm.

Shit.

“Well,
that
certainly isn’t happening, so, why don’t you tell me about them instead?”

He grins. “Fair enough. Storm is kind of the responsible one in the family. She married Ben Matthews several years ago, and they have a little girl, Angelina. She’s an architect and he owns a construction company. She actually designed this building and Ben’s company built it.”

I look around the room, taking in the tray ceiling, crown molding, and built-in shelves. “It is a beautiful building.”

For a pussy palace.

“I know.”

“What about Stone?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, he is a shining example of youngest child syndrome. Savage’s father died when Stone was pretty young, and his mom really babied him. She let him get away with a lot that never would have flown with the big guy around. He’s a bit of a loose cannon, but, in the last couple years, he has more or less straightened himself out. I mean, he managed to graduate top five in his law school class.”

A knock at the door has me practically jumping from my chair.

Gabe laughs and stands. “Relax, I’ll get it.”

I glance at the computer screen and don’t see Savage anywhere the camera's cover. It must be him. My stomach flip-flops and my heart practically breaks my ribs as I wait to see him.

Gabe unlocks and opens the door and Savage enters, his eyes immediately searching the room until they find me. I try to stand and wobble as the room spins.

I grab the edge of the desk to steady myself and close my eyes, fighting the churning in my stomach making me feel like I just got off the Tilt-a-Whirl at the State Fair.

Crap. I’m drunk.

I vaguely hear Savage say something to Gabe about drinking and a car, but I’m more worried about not falling over right now.

When the room finally stops spinning, I open my eyes to find Savage in front of me, watching me intently, concern written all over his face. His cheek is slightly puffy, scratched, and starting to discolor. I realize he actually did get hit.

“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” I ask, reaching out to cup his cheek, brushing my fingers gently over the abraded skin.

He captures my hand, pulls it to his mouth, and presses his lips to my fingers. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I had to leave you.” His eyes wander behind me to the desk and I follow his gaze to the almost empty Blanton’s bottle.

Turning back, he quirks his eyebrow at me and grins. “Are
you
okay?”

I step toward him, wobbling slightly, and nod, my eyelids suddenly feeling very heavy. He grins and tugs on my arm, pulling me down onto his lap. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Probably because I am.

Even though I know I should be an adult and stand up and walk out of here on my own two feet, I settle against him, burying my face in his neck and my fingers in his shirt. He presses his lips to my forehead and murmurs another apology for leaving me.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

I’m too tired and too drunk to care about the fact that he doesn’t know where I live.

Instead, I let the warmth and comfort of his embrace lull me into a contentment I haven’t felt in a very long time, if ever.

“Is she out?” Gabe asks when he returns to my office a few minutes after I arrived.

I glance down at her, even though I don’t need to confirm she’s out like a light. She must have drunk half the bottle while I was downstairs. “Yeah, she’s gone.”

But she’s fucking here! And that’s all that matters.

He laughs and walks over, leaning down to check her face, currently snuggled into my neck, her hot breath teasing my skin. “You want to drop her off at her place before we go home?”

I know where she lives. My deep probing turned up her address easily, but the thought of leaving her after this week of indecision and torture wondering where we stand has my stomach leaping into my throat. I shake my head and cuddle her closer to me. “No, I’m not leaving her alone tonight. We’re going to my place.”

She manages to sleep through the elevator ride to the car, Gabe transferring her into the back seat, and the entire ride to my condo, her head resting on my lap.

By the time we arrive at my door, I’m convinced I may not be able to wake her up. Gabe holds the door open for me and follows us in, greeting Princess as she jumps at me, trying to climb onto my well-occupied lap. Gabe scoops her up and waits at the threshold.

“You need help with her?” he asks, nodding toward Danika.

I glance down and brush a strand of her white-blonde hair back behind her ear. She stirs, snuggling closer to me and tightening her arms around my neck.

“No, we’ll be okay. Thanks. You got Princess, though?”

He nods before disappearing and pulling the door closed behind him.

I don’t think I have the energy to concentrate on two girls tonight. I’m glad Princess thinks Gabe is her knight in shining armor and won’t even miss me.

I retreat to my bedroom and into the closet where I manage to reach around her to grab one of my t-shirts and head to the bathroom. Stopping just outside the open door, I cup Danika’s cheek, brushing my thumb along her smooth skin and down to her lips, slightly parted with her slow, even breathing.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“Danika, babe, wake up.”

She stirs, but her eyes remain sealed and her lips curl down slightly into an adorable frown. A smile spreads across my face.

She is so damn cute.

I press my lips to hers softly, trying to wake her the gentlest way possible.

Moaning, she reacts to my kiss, pressing her body into mine and pulling her arms from behind my head to cup my face and tug me to her.

Guess she’s awake now.

What started out as a tender kiss quickly becomes more, her tongue slipping against my lips, demanding entrance and response. I capture her face in my palms and slowly pull away, ending the kiss with several slow, sweet presses of my lips. She sighs and her eyes flutter open, her lazy, alcohol-soaked gaze roaming my face.

“Hey,” she murmurs before pressing her lips to mine again and offering me a wide grin.

I grin back at her. “Hi.”

She leans back and looks around the room. “Is this your bedroom?”

“Yeah.” She takes in the room—the large, low king-sized bed in the center, the black lacquered nightstands and dresser along the walls, the bank of windows occupying the far wall. When those hazy blue eyes find mine again, I hand her the shirt. “Here, you can sleep in this. There is a new toothbrush you can use in the second drawer on the right. Let me know if you need anything else.”

She grins at me, grabs the shirt, and slides off my lap, wobbling on unsteady legs. I reach out and grasp her hip, steadying her. She giggles and glances back at me. “Shit, how much did I drink?”

Too much.

“Half a bottle.”

Her eyes bug out and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t normally drink that much, at least not liquor.”

I laugh and gently squeeze her hip. “Don’t apologize, you probably needed it.”

She barks out a laugh. “Probably.” She slips from my grip and stumbles into the bathroom. Grinning, I return to the front door and lock it, shutting off the lights as I make my way back to the bedroom. The bathroom door is closed and I can hear the water running in the sink.

I return to the closet and change into a pair of long, silk pajama pants and a t-shirt.

By the time I emerge a couple minutes later, she’s opening the bathroom door. She looks around the room until she sees me and she smiles. My 30 Seconds to Mars t-shirt hangs off her full breasts and stops just south of the spot between her long legs I am dying to taste again.

God, she was fucking sweet, and so fucking wet.
My cock responds and I hope she’s too drunk to notice it straining against the thin silk pants that do nothing to hide it.

She glances down at herself and tugs on the end of the shirt before smiling up at me. “Great shirt, by the way. I love Jared Leto.” Turning, she wobbles her way over to the bed, pulls back the duvet and slides in, snuggling down with a giant sigh.

Somehow, even in her drunken state, she managed to figure out what side of the bed I sleep on, though I guess the alarm clock, bottle of water, and stack of books on the right side nightstand kind of makes it obvious.

I get ready in the bathroom and when I exit, I find her face down in the bed, a light snore filling the room. It should be gross, a huge turn off, yet, it isn’t. It is fucking adorable.

I am so screwed.

This is somewhere I never thought I would be a week ago, joining her in bed. After getting my legs under the covers, I pull my shirt off and toss it onto my chair. I can’t stand sleeping in shirts and she’s already passed out, so it’s not like she will be looking.

I lie back against my pillow and reach out with my right hand, running my fingers through her soft, blonde hair, which cascades over the pillow behind her. She mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over toward me, settling her head against my chest and wrapping her arm around my stomach.

Woah.

I hold my breath as she snuggles even closer to me, eliminating any space from between our bodies and throwing her leg over mine, my cock hardening again at the brush of her skin.

No one has touched me in over three years.

Well, that’s not entirely true. The doctors, a lot of doctors have, and my family, they are huggers, but, not a woman, and not in my bed, and certainly not below the belt.

She settles and her breathing returns to the rhythmic sound of deep sleep. I slowly release the breath I’m holding and wrap my arms around her, keeping her impossibly close.

Pressing my lips to her head, I inhale and take in the clean smell of her shampoo and the faint lilac scent that always surrounds her.

She smells like summer, and having her here, wrapped around me in my bed, makes me crave everything I never thought I could have again.

Just don’t fuck it up.

I wake to a wall of heat and hard flesh—under my cheek, my right arm, my hand, between my legs. The crisp, cool scent I’ve come to associate with Savage invades as I take a deep breath and snuggle in closer to him.

The steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek is soothing and I feel myself drifting toward sleep again when I suddenly realize I have no fucking clue how I got here.

Sitting up abruptly, my head spins and a stabbing pain pierces my temples. I wince and scrunch my eyes closed, pressing my palms against my head and praying it stops.

Shit, what the hell happened last night?

What the fuck did I do?

The splitting pain finally fades to a dull ache, and I open my eyes to a vast expanse of slightly tanned, smooth, muscled flesh.