Page 13 of Heart of Stone
Practically wilting with relief, I trail him, trying to keep my shit together as Hawk picks his way through the crowd, ignoring the revelry around us.
He might be immune to it, but I can’t ignore the multitude of sins playing out before me. Music swirls around bodies grinding into each other—some naked, some barely clothed. I watch as a couple fuck openly, his dick sliding into her pussy.
I duck my head and cover Adam’s eyes, protecting him from seeing something that he absolutely shouldn’t at this age. Or any age. Maybe I can convince him to be a monk cause goodness knows I’m not equipped to have a conversation about sex with horny teens.
We walk up the porch steps and enter the old farmhouse. I have a moment to appreciate the high ceiling and gorgeous woodflooring before we’re sucked back into a crowd—one that’s less loud but more decadent than those outside.
The music is dimmed inside, and I whisper a silent prayer of thanks that I don’t have to worry about Adam’s hearing.
We walk down a long hall, and I smell the muddy scent of weed, sweat, beer, and sex.
We pass rooms full of people chatting, laughing, arguing, and—in some instances—fucking.
I’d assumed the house was only slightly larger than my own since its street frontage isn’t large even though it has a second story, but I’m proven wrong. The house stretches backward for what feels like forever, merging a new addition with the old farmhouse.
We enter the kitchen, and I find I don’t quite know where to look. Half-naked women lounge across counters while men stand around shooting shit.
“Oh! A baby!” one of the women squeals, bouncing her way over to us—her breasts echoing her movement. She’s a striking redhead, her hair a cascade of fiery curls streaked with hints of silver, the kind of wild, unapologetic hair that seems to match the energy she radiates. Fine lines frame her eyes and mouth, softening the bold red of her lipstick and the playful sparkle in her gaze. Freckles still dust her cheeks, a lingering trace of youth on a face full of warmth as she beams down at Adam.
Adam squeals happily—forever enthused by attention.
I smile awkwardly, holding him as the gorgeous woman claps in front of us, making silly faces.
“Ginger, get your ass back here,” one of the bikers barks. “She’s baby-obsessed. I swear.”
She laughs, tossing her hair. “Just one more? Please?”
I blink, surprised that with a body like hers, she could have any kids.
“No. We’re both too fucking old,” the biker says, holding his arm out for her to slide under.
“Microwave is there. Use it,” Hawk interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest.
I do as I’m told, quickly warming Adam’s milk.
“Oh, did your microwave break?” Ginger makes a moue of sympathy. “That sucks. You need me to take him while you do that?” She wiggles her fingers at me.
“Ah, thanks but I think he’s okay.”
The biker with his arm wrapped around her sighs heavily. “You gonna talk babies all night or pay me some attention?”
She elbows him playfully. “Maybe. Unless you have a better option for me?”
He pulls her into him, catching her mouth with his for a deep kiss.
I flush, glancing away as I watch the timer countdown.
What the hell was I thinking coming over here? And with Adam? I’m definitely not about to win any guardian of the year awards.
The deep rumble of Hawk’s voice slides over my skin, low and commanding. Before I can protest, heat radiates against my back, his big, tall body closing in behind me, crowding my space.
I twist, heart thudding, but he’s already moving, those rough, capable hands brushing the bare skin of my arms as he carefully slips Adam from my hold. His touch sends a ripple of awareness cascading through me, tingles racing down my spine, leaving goosebumps trailing in their wake.
“No, that’s okay. I can?—”
“I got him.” His voice brooks no argument, but it’s not harsh—just steady and sure.
Hawk shifts Adam with practiced ease, cradling him close against his chest, the baby’s fussing quieting almost instantly. Adam blinks up at the biker, his tiny hands curling against Hawk’s leather cut.
