Page 76 of Rebel Hawke

Astrid locks her gaze with mine, and something darkens her eyes. Fear. Anger. Maybe a mix of both. “Yeah, it was. Atlas almost died.” Her hand drifts down to her side. “I almost did, too. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change me. So, maybe we can’t expect Atlas to be back to his normal self. Maybe he won’t ever be.”

On the one hand, I know exactly what she’s saying.

I can never go back to being who I was before the fire.

But I hope she’s wrong about Atlas.

It isn’t just the physical limitations affecting him now; it’s the mental blocks he’s put in place. The belief that he’s permanentlybroken has been drilled into his head by himself and doctors so hard that prying it free may be impossible.

If I’m wrong and it isn’t possible, I might be wasting my time trying to get him back to where he was before the shooting. To the man I watched in the ring in all those videos.

That unstoppable force even a bullet can’t knock off course.

He has to want it, has to want to give one hundred and ten percent and be committed to getting better.

If he’s not, it doesn’t matter what I do.

He’s going to lose, and I don’t know what that would do to him.

I don’t even want to think about it being a possibility.

12

WREN

The moment the elevator doors slide shut behind the cast of Hawkes, we step back into his condo. Before I even have time to ask him how his night went, Atlas pins me against the door and his mouth is on me.

My neck.

My cheek.

My lips.

Consuming me like a starved madman who hasn’t seen me in months instead of a handful of hours when we’ve only been separated by one hallway.

Instantly, every nerve in my body responds, flaring to life, heat centering between my legs with his promise and his kiss.

God, yes…

A groan works its way up my throat, but despite me physically beingveryon board with where this is going, my brain forces me to push against his chest, urging him back, trying to catch my breath that he’s somehow already stolen. “What the hell are you doing?”

He complies by barely retreating, and lust simmers across his gaze. Red hot. Clear intent. “Kissing you. I thought that would be obvious.”

I smack him lightly on the chest. “You’re acting like you haven’t seen me for months. I’ve been across the hall for like four hours—tops.”

Atlas kisses the corner of my mouth, his hands wrapping around my waist to tug me up against him and feel his hard cock. “Too many hours.”

Chuckling lightly, I grip his T-shirt tightly in my fists. “Does that mean you didn’t have a good time with the guys?”

He drags his head back, and his gaze softens. “I did, but I would much rather spend time with you.”

“That’s sweet, Atlas, but we can’t be together twenty-four-seven.”

One of his blond brows rises. “How come?”

I gape at him. “Well, because that’s not healthy for any relationship.”

A slow grin spreads across his lips. “So…this is a relationship?”

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