Page 17 of Dangerous Devotion

“Thanks, wifey,” he said in such a teasing manner that I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. He pulled them on, and I watched him walk to the door.

Well, watch, eye-fuck…lose myself in the visuals of the clearly defined muscles of his back, moving under his olive skin with every step. Big, bad Vince Salvini was such a dork…with an unbelievably sexy body.

Vince opened the door and came face to face with Hawk on the other side.

Hawk’s eyes darted from Vince to me, and he narrowed his brows.

The realization of how this must look hit me like a ton of bricks. Here I was, wearing nothing but Vince’s shirt while he stood there shirtless. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what we’d possibly been up to. But Hawk had always been a father figure to me, and I didn’t want him to think we were going at it like rabbits every chance we got.

“I…uh…we were just…” I stammered, my mind racing to find a plausible explanation. “You see, there was this…um…the shower because…and then Vince’s shirt was the only thing… I mean, it’s not what it looks like. Well, maybe it is, but… Oh, God.”

I could feel myself digging a deeper hole with every word.

Hawk’s eyebrow raised higher and higher as I rambled on, and I swear I could see the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“What Jemma means is—” Vince started, but I cut him off.

“No, no, I can explain!” I insisted, my voice rising in pitch. “I was just helping him wash up, so he could keep his wound away from the water. And?—”

“Jemma,” Vince’s voice was soft but firm, cutting through my babbling. He turned to me, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and something else…something that made me melt. “Shut up, Little One.”

The gentle way he said it, and the undertone of steel, made my words die in my throat. I closed my mouth, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and comfort wash over me.

Hawk’s gaze landed on Vince, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until I thought I might burst from the tension.

Finally, Hawk cleared his throat. “Little One, huh?” he said, his voice gruff but tinged with amusement. “That’s interesting.”

I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. “It’s not… I mean, he doesn’t usually…”

Vince’s straightened. “Is it?” he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying edge that made me glance at him.

The two men stared at each other in some sort of silent communication before Hawk shook his head. “No. It’s not. Just…surprised, I guess. Didn’t think you and her would be…”

His gaze landed on me, and I squirmed under his scrutiny.

“…Into the lifestyle.”

The lifestyle? Wait, did Hawk think what I thought he did?

But Vince seemed unfazed, his posture relaxed as he stood beside the door. “Is there something we can do for you?”

Hawk nodded, then raised his hands and showed the small kit he’d been holding in one hand and the first aid kit he’d been holding in his other hand. “I’m here to stitch you up if you’re up to it.”

Vince stepped back and invited Hawk into the room.

Hawk swept the room with his eyes, then pointed at the bed. “Park your ass, and let’s see how you can handle your pain.”

Vince narrowed his eyes, clearly not amused about the challenge in Hawk’s words.

I watched the testosterone-fueled staring contest between them and rolled my eyes at their macho posturing.

Men. But enough was enough.

“Alright, boys,” I said, clapping my hands together. “If you’re done measuring, can we get on with it?”

Both men turned to look at me, surprise evident on their faces. I raised an eyebrow, challenging them to argue with me.

Vince’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “You heard my wife, Hawk. Let’s get this over with.”

---