Page 54 of Savage Guardian

Fuck.

“I want her, man, so fucking bad.”

“So what’s holdin’ you back? Odin doesn’t give a shit if you bang the sister, long as you keep your head on straight with the client.”

Frustration warred with fear, rolling into a ball of venomous snakes in his gut.

“When I’m with her…there’s this…heaviness in my stomach. Like there’s something I’m missing. I want to sit with her, talk with her, get to know her, but there’s a pricking at the back of my neck, a tension in my chest….”

“And you don’t know if it’s signally danger or desire,” Trouble stated knowingly.

Hawk hissed out a breath, nodding to acknowledge Trouble’s insight.

“I’ve got shit in my past, shit that just barely healed, and now I’m feeling like there’s something going on between Carrie and Fae that is a little too familiar. And I fucking hate it. I don’t want to feel like that about Fae, but I can’t stop myself from wondering if I’m making the same mistakes.”

“There’s no way to know until you’ve made ‘em. What’s your gut tellin’ you ‘bout Fae? I mean, it can’t be all bad since you’ve warned off every brother and have taken her to your bed.”

Immediately, he thought of her the night before, splayed out naked on his sheets, her creamy skin flushed with desire, her honeyed eyes dark with hunger for him. And before that, her leaning into him, sharing her fears, seeking his strength. And before that, laughing with her in the diner…at the bar. When he was with her, he felt…whole. Shafts of memories from his conversation with Carrie splintered through that feeling, sending alarm through his nerve endings.

Fae…uses her plain face and frumpy looks to trick people into thinking she’s harmless, when, in truth, she’s playing you….

The words stabbed at his chest, making him groan. Across from him, Trouble looked on, his expression impassive.

“I don’t know what to think,” Hawk admitted, his voice hoarse.

Trouble pinned Hawk in place with piercing eyes. “Figure it the fuck out, brother.”

If only it were that easy.

It had been six days since the…headincident, and living at the Savage Raiders’ compound was easier than she thought it would be. Every morning, Preston and Dragon would escort her to Junkbox, secure the one bathroom, unused office, sound booth, small recording booth, and finally wiggle the knob on the always locked back door, then head out to the front for Preston to stand guard while Dragon headed to the club bordello to do whatever it was he needed to…do. Each time, Teddy would lock the door behind them, grumbling about “meatheads” making the place look like a prison. Fae didn’t mind having the extra muscle around. As long as they didn’t come inside when she was working, they could stand out there all day long…looking scary. And pretty. When it was time to break for lunch, Dragon would return, and he and Preston would escort her to Danny’s, where they’d share lunch and a slice of pie before heading back to the studio. When the day was over, they’d escort her back to the compound, land at the bar, and share a drink with her.

Every day for the last six days.

Every night…Hawk was there. He’d come in from wherever it was he’d been all day—avoiding her—then greet his brothers, before sitting with the other club officers in the corner booth, heads together. Surprisingly, none of the club women approached him or the other men as they sat there. Probably some unspoken rule not to interrupt them while they were conferencing. No nookie while debriefing. He was probably giving them a report of his deeds, whatever they were. And she couldn’t help but stare at him the whole time, watching the overhead lights playing along his jaw, reflecting in his eyes. From the moment he entered the clubhouse, her eyes followed him as he crossed the room—no matter what she was doing—his muscles flexing along his wide back, the tattoos inked into his arms dancing with each bunch and release of toned sinew. The man was a masterwork, perfection honed into devastating mortality. And…God…that ass. Hard, sexy, like two globes of flesh just begging for a bite. One thing she regretted the most was not getting to see the whole of Hawk when he’d been naked. They’d been so eager to get to the sexing, she hadn’t had the chance to really enjoy theentire view.

Too bad she’d never get another chance at that.

And once his powwow with the officers was done, he’d finally seek her out. He’d sit with her for a few minutes, asking her about her day, staring at her like he wanted to eat her alive, then he’d make some excuse to leave. There then gone. Every night. And she was freakingmadabout it.

It was like their night together hadn’t happened, like he was determined to forget about it by keeping her at a distance. But then he’d look at her like he did…making her clit throb and her tits ache, and she knew there had to be more between them.

On the night of the sixth day, Fae was sitting in the TV room in the loft that looked down over the common room. On one side of the loft was the hallway leading to Odin’s office and the officers’ meeting room, and on the other side was a smaller bar area. Apparently, this was the area of the clubhouse you came to when you wanted to chill out without everyone getting in your face. It was quieter, the music from downstairs muted by the height of the ceilings, and there was one prospect manning the bar—when he wasn’t running errands the brothers would text him. So, she was by herself, watching theTop Gearepisode someone left running, and wondering how she was going to get Hawk to stop treating her like a buddy…he’d fucked, then dumped.

I’m mean, do Ilooklike the buddy type?Yes. Yes, she did. Was it the loose-fitting clothes, the lack of makeup or primping, or perhaps the extra plumpness of her curves that had turned him off? Had their night together been some kind of misplaced form of comfort, a way to offer the chubby girl some love after her terrible, awful, no good, very bad day? He’d probably taken one look at her naked body and had to think of some leggy blonde in order to keep his dick hard. While she was yearning to see him naked again, he was wishing he’d get selective amnesia.

At least she’d had a break from Carrie and Jimmy over the last six days, though Carrie had made it her mission to text Fae every day, whining about wanting to switch places with her, or bugging her about when the album would be done, or forwarding pics of her dressed to kill at some casino. It hadn’t escaped Fae’s notice that Carrie was spending and spending and spending—and it was money Fae hadn’t even seen a dime of yet. Jimmy had secured the rental car and hotel room, and had given her a pre-paid gift card for gas and groceries, telling her it would be easier to keep track of expenses that way. But Carrie…she had carte blanche to spend whatever she wanted because she was the “star” and she had to look the part when the big reveal came.

So, Fae was doing all the work and getting none of the rewards. Just another shit situation she could only blame herself for.

If I just hadn’t let Jimmy get to me….Yeah, if she’d just had a set of lady balls, she never would have signed that contract that now—in hindsight—was suspect. At least she should have had a lawyer look at it, or even her dad. Now, she was trapped by the contract with Jimmy and the NDA with the two-hundred-thousand-dollar penalty if she ever spilled the truth.

The sound of someone thumping and grumbling behind her made her turn to look over the back of the couch at the stairwell. Tessa came into view, her face twisted with pain and frustration. Huffing at the landing, she speared Fae with a glower.

“Why couldn’t you have pouted like a bitch downstairs? Having to drag my ass up here just makes me cranky.”

Fae snorted, grinning. “You’re always cranky.”

Tessa rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching to hold back her smile. Plopping down beside Fae on the couch, she raised her left leg and settled her foot on the large ottoman.

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