Page 43 of Restless Hawke
“I…well…” Another shift of my hand. “Fuck…” She squeezes her eyes closed. “Wh-what if I said I don’t know?”
I still my hand and search her face, and her thick, dark lashes flutter to reveal her fathomless gray eyes that seem to morph from the color of a cold winter day to the silver when she’s turned on. The shimmer now brighter than the stars…
For several seconds, I look for the lie, for proof that she’s playing me again or hedging when she doesn’t want to admit her intent.
But all I see there is truth.
Maybe for the first time since I met her.
“I believe you.”
She seems to relax a little against me, her body releasing the tiniest bit of the tension she’s been holding since I first walked into the restaurant.
“And it’s okay not to always know what you want, Allegra; at least, that’s what my family keeps telling me.”
I draw my middle finger up along her damp seam.
Her eyes squeeze closed, those impossibly long lashes spread out against her now-pink cheeks, and she shudders, shifting against me, her left hand tightening on her drink on the table, the right digging into the leather bench seat between our legs. “Coen…”
My name comes out half-whimper, half-plea.
To do what?
Because the way she looks at me, it’s as if she’s torn between running from me right now or straddling me. I’d prefer the latter, but if she truly wants the former, I’m not the type of man who would try to stop her from leaving.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She gulps and shakes her head, her eyes fluttering open. “No, but I should—God, this is a bad idea…”
There they are again.
Those words.
Bad idea.
I use my finger to pull that wet strip of fabric to the side, then drag the tip along the soaked lips. She holds her breath, her body stilling completely at the contact, as if primed to shatter if I move any more.
My cock strains against my zipper, aching to be in place of that damn finger now that I finally this woman in my arms and part of me sunk deep in her heat after a week of torture. “Just because something’s a bad idea doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.”
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
That’s what I told myself when I tried to win back the money I had lost before Atlas ever set foot in that ring and only ended up losing more. That’s what I told myself when I placed the bet against Atlas, knowing that if he ever found out, there would be horrific fallout. That’s what I told myself when I fled the wedding reception and contacted Satriano to tell him I knew I was at his mercy and that I was willing to do anything to protect the Hawkes, confident he’d take advantage of that.
And she’s right.
This isn’t just a bad idea; it’s a terrible one.
One that could have long-reaching ramifications when it comes to my play.
Allegra is the only woman, the only person at all, who’s ever been able to take me off my game, and this is the most dangerous time for it to be happening.
I can’t afford to lose another tournament.
I can’t afford any delay in paying back Satriano.
Today was supposed to put me over the top, to get me to the point that I could finally send it to him and be done with at least that part of my debt. I might have learned what he had in store for me instead of constantly wondering what sinister deeds he might demand I do on his behalf.
He won’t be happy about any delays, and I’m going to have to face the consequences if he decides to act in the interim.
