Page 54 of Restless Hawke
He slides his free hand through my hair, grasping my head and holding me steady, preventing me from pulling away, exerting his dominance and letting me know I’m not going to pull one over on him again. “You’re not going to win with me.”
I shift my body to his and feel his cock harden against my stomach. “The evidence would suggest otherwise.”
“If what you need is a good, hard fuck, I’m more than willing to comply, Allegra. But what I won’t do is continue whatever this fucking game is between us. I need that win in Vegas. So, I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“This.” He rolls his hips against mine, and I have to stifle a groan at the rush of need that simple motion sends through me. “In exchange for your word that you won’t play.”
I raise a brow. “Because you know I can beat you?”
“Because I don’t want any distractions, and somehow, I’ve let you become one. A beautiful, beautiful distraction.”
I consider his offer for a moment. Consider walking away from this so I can still play. But with his body pressed against mine, his hot breath fanning over my face, the desire and hatred burning in his eyes, we’re so close to combusting that I don’t know if it’s possible to stop it at this point.
“Okay, Mr. Hawke, I agree to your terms.”
He grins, but the way it splits his face sends a shiver down my spine. “Good, because I would much rather slide into you than take my cock in my hand like I had to in Macau…”
8
ALLEGRA
I’m in trouble.
That devious glint in his eyes is all I need to see to know it before his mouth brushes against mine and he steals the little yelp that slips from my lips as he tugs me even more firmly against him.
He devours me, his tongue sweeping along mine, lips moving like they’re trying to pull the breath straight from my lungs. Like he’s trying to memorize them in case he never gets this chance again.
Thorough.
Aggressive.
Possessive.
And so fucking intoxicating.
I could so easily get drunk off this man. Off the way he kisses me. The way he holds me. The way every stroke of his tongue feels like it has a direct line straight to my clit.
My body hums to life when he does this, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him to me. All the power and intensity that vibrates under his skin finally leaks out and soaks me in his passion, promising so much more.
Promising to drown me in it the same way his eyes do.
I failed so badly when it came to Coen Hawke.
The game I played with him was too dangerous. Too personal. Too intense. Tooeverything.
And I definitely lost.
Because actuallylikingCoen and wantingthiswas never part of any plan I had concocted in my head.
I pride myself on always being ready before I face down an opponent, but I wasnotprepared for this one.
He outplayed me.
Masterfully.
He turned the tables, became the invader instead of the defender.
