Page 26 of Heart of Stone
The tension in his face is carved deep—jaw tight, lips slightly parted like he’s holding back. But it’s his eyes that undo me. Theyburrowinto mine, dark with hunger and something even deeper.
Possession.
My lips part, ready to speak—begmaybe—as his fingers dance higher, gliding along my thigh. Slow. Unrelenting. Until the calloused pad of his thumb brushes under the frayed hem of my shorts.
A breath catches in my throat, my body swaying toward him on instinct, desperate for more.
“Hawk—”
“You talk too much,” he growls, voice ragged, and then his hand shifts, fingertips trailing higher, higher—until his thumb traces the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Just enough to make my thighs tense. Just enough to leave me trembling.
“I—”
The baby monitor erupts with Adam’s cry.
I jerk back, nearly falling out of my chair.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his hand dropping away. “The timing on this kid.”
I scramble. “I should?—”
“Yeah,” he mutters, already turning from me. “Run away, little lamb.”
I hurry inside, my heart pounding against my ribs. Behind me, I hear the scrape of his chair, then the sound of his boots on the deck boards.
By the time I get Adam settled again, Hawk is gone, the only evidence he was there is the lingering warmth on my thigh where his hand had been and two empty beer bottles on the rail.
I touch my thigh, remembering the heat of his touch, the intensity in his eyes.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls.
A storm is coming.
In more ways than one.
7
HAWK
“Hi.”
The word drags me from unconsciousness. My hand is already moving toward the gun under my pillow before my brain registers the voice belongs to the tiny human standing beside my bed.
“Hi, hi!” another small voice pipes up.
I shift, finding another toddler on the opposite side of my bed.
Fuck.
I blink at the two tiny faces peering at me over the edge of the mattress. Abby and Amy—though damned if I can tell which is which—stand in matching pink pajamas, their dark curls wild from sleep.
“Why you here?” I growl, though I keep my voice low. No need to wake the whole house.
One of them announces something in garbled toddler-speak, patting my mattress with a chubby hand.
The other solemnly nods, seemingly in agreement.
