Page 122 of Damaged Protector

I sat gingerly on the edge of the tub and stuck my feet in the rising water, smiling as I remembered how it had felt to have Hawk on top of me. Inside me.

He returned a minute later with one of my hair clips. After wrapping my ponytail around and around until it formed a giant bun on top of my head, he clipped it in place. Taking me in, he winked one of those dark eyes, and things fluttered low in my belly.

“You look cute,” he remarked, and I scoffed as I glanced in the mirror over the sink.

“I look like Marge Simpson.”

Hawk laughed as he sprinkled something that smelled divinely like him into the water before taking my hands to help me into the tub. “Sit carefully, Marge. You’re going to be sore.”

“Great, a new nickname,” I complained as I sank into the fragrant, steamy water, trying not to wince at the dull ache between my legs.

“Don’t worry. You’re still my Little Bee,” he said, climbing in behind me. It was seriously the goofiest nickname ever—besides Marge, of course—but I secretly liked it. His arms went around me, and I reclined back against him, allowing my eyes to close.

This was utter bliss, sitting in a tub with the sexiest man alive while he rested his cheek on the top of my head. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Mmhmmm,” I hummed as he began to scoop up handfuls of water and trickle them over my chest. “What is this scent? It smells like you.”

Hawk picked up a brown jar and read the ingredients aloud. “Eucalyptus, sandalwood, cassis, and Haitian vetiver.”

“Ohhh, Haitian vetiver. That’s so much better than Colombian vetiver.”

His chuckle rumbled against my back. “Vetiver is a bunchgrass.”

“Well, that clears that up. Why am I not surprised you know that?”

Hawk reached forward to turn off the taps, and we fell into a comfortable silence, simply soaking in the hot water and each other.

Comfortable. That word encompassed so much about the man I was living with. After my initial freak out on the first day I arrived, he’d made me feel at ease. At home.

Which I knew was a huge concession on his part. Hawk was a very private man. He’d told me no one knew about the things he’d shared with me regarding his sister, and it made me feel special that he’d trusted me enough to tell me. It made me thirsty to know even more about him.

“Tell me three things about yourself,” I said.

“Well, my name is Tate Gentry. I’m almost thirty-five years old…”

I slapped his thick thigh. “No, dip-ass. Something… unique.”

His warm lips closed around my earlobe and sucked before he nipped me. “Number one, I don’t like being called dip-ass.”

“Noted.” That wasn’t really what I meant, but I let it slide.

“Number two, I actually prefer baths to showers, though I usually shower most of the time out of convenience.” Well, that surprised me, and I smiled at the thought of this big man chilling in a bubble bath.

Hawk drifted his hands up and down my torso, settling on my boobs, which he massaged with gentle, kneading fingers. “When we were deployed to some really shitty places, everyone else always talked about how they couldn’t wait to get stateside and back to whatever they missed. Their own bed, burgers, pizza, women, whatever. But I just wanted to get back home and soak for hours in a bath.”

I tilted my head on his shoulder to look up at him. “And the third thing?”

“I’ve never taken a bath with a woman before.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me giddy, like teeny champagne bubbles were tingling my belly, but it did. “So I got to be one of your firsts tonight too?”

He rubbed his nose against mine, his voice husky. “Yeah, Little Bee, I guess you did.” Then his lips covered mine with the perfect amount of suction. His probing tongue sought entrance into my mouth, and I granted it willingly, tangling my own with his in a languid, delicious kiss.

I could still taste myself on his lips, his tongue, and it felt so intimate, knowing where his mouth had been just a little while ago. His big hand slid up and cupped my throat, and I freaking melted into him.

Lia, the character in my book, liked when Lorenzo gave her what she called a “hand necklace,” but I hadn’t really understood why until Hawk had done that to me in the Den tonight. It made me feel… claimed. In the best possible way.

He released me, sliding his hand back down into the water and around my waist. “Your turn, Bee. Tell me three things.”

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