Page 26 of Her Magnificent Mistake
Hawk stopped in front of her, close enough she could feel his exhalations on her cheeks, close enough she could press her palm against his heart if she wanted to.Neededto.
Without releasing her gaze, he lifted one hand and gripped the pillar behind her, bracketing her on one side.
“What is that supposed to mean, Marcia?” he asked again in that same low growl, dipping his head toward her. “That who ye are is no’ appealing enough?”
Oh.
Oh my.
Hawk had always been so kind and gentle that this side of him—this take-charge, demanding side—was really quite appealing.
Well, never let it be said she was a coward. She swallowed and lifted her chin. “I was myself ten years ago, and you rejected me.” Losing her bravado, her gaze dropped to the stubble on his chin and her voice dropped to a whisper. “That was a mistake—you made a mistake. So now I am trying to be someone else, so you might like me more than you did…before.”
“Amistake?Ye think I dinnaelikeye?”
Do not answer that. You are only trying to seduce him to gain his trust and learn his secrets, remember. Loving Hawk was a mistake, because he has clearly hidden his own bloodthirsty character for years.
His fingers went to her chin, tipping it upward to meet his gaze. “I liked ye plenty, Marcia.”
He shifted closer and her breath stuttered. Because now they were close enough that when she inhaled her sensitive nipples brushed against the front of his jacket. She could feel his hardness probing against his trousers.
He is a murderer a murderer a murderer do not trust him?—
Marcia whimpered slightly as Hawk dipped his head closer.
“I still like ye,” he confessed in a harsh whisper. “Marcia. Who ye truly are. No’ the prattering debutante ye’re trying to be.”
Oh.
Her eyes fluttered closed, not sure she could contain all the warring emotions deep within her.
Need.
Fear.
Yearning.
Love.
She was here to do a job. A job for the Crown; an honorable occupation. Hawk confessing he stilllikedher—and clearly had found something in her arousing—should be her chance to crow and preen; she was one step closer to winning his confidence and proving his guilt.
But in that moment, she wasn’t thinking of thejobat all.
She was thinking of his breath, his lips, his body, his heat.
And Marcia Calderbank—the real and true Marcia Calderbank—did the unthinkable; she slid her arms around a murderer’s waist in the same moment he lowered his mouth to capture her lips in a kiss.
Yes.
Yes.
Oh God, yes.
Hawk’s lips were just as she’d remembered them, just as she’d fantasized in the last ten years; skin rough, but flesh soft. He didn’t have to coax, because Marcia met him joyfully.
As his tongue slid between her lips, his fingers moved to cup first her cheek, then the back of her neck, as the hand which had bracketed her dropped to her lower back pulling her closer, closer, closer, until his hardness pressed against her softness and she made a desperate little mewling sound as she gyrated her hips against him.
Marcia tugged at his waist as if trying to climb him, and he—perhaps understanding—pressed a knee between her thighs, forcing them open until she was straddling him, riding him.
