Sweet Ache

Besides leaving the house for his last lecture today, he hasn’t really left the studio much according to Vince. But in Vince’s eyes that means Hawke’s coping, he’s working through it with music, and that’s a good sign.

Hawke glances up and smiles softly, the guitar falling silent. It takes a moment for me to realize I’ve been caught staring at him and the smile on my lips is out of pure reflex.

“Hey, how’s your paper going?” he asks as he grabs a handful of M&M’s.

“If it included a hot rocker guy writing a song, then I’d say it was going great…. You’re distracting, Play.”

My stomach flutters at the full-fledged grin he gives me in return. “I can distract you in other ways if you’d like.” He raises his eyebrows and my heart squeezes at the comment because it’s the first time he’s pseudo flirted with me since everything happened.

Maybe Vince is right, maybe the music is helping.

“I’d like that. Maybe I can inspire you with my wicked ways to write a dirty song.”

“Sweetness, every time I touch this guitar I’m reminded of you.” He smirks, my eyes drawn to the guitar and my body reacts viscerally. “But there are plenty of other instruments in here; we can try to add another one to our sexed-up band.”

I start to clear the papers from my lap, not one to turn down the look in his eyes or the hints of what they say he wants to do to me. My old, playful Hawkin has emerged from hiding and a part of me sighs in relief. He reaches me the same time I have a clear lap and drops to his knees between my legs.

Leaning forward, he bestows a tender kiss that causes that sweet, slow ache to burn in my core. He slips his tongue between my lips, and I swear to God I can taste the next sixty years when his mouth connects with mine.

The thought startles me. Shocks me enough that I break away from the kiss. A tide of panic flutters within me but at the same time, I know what I just felt was real. With our faces inches apart I stare into his eyes, my hands smoothing over his jaw as I let the idea settle some.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Hawke says throwing me for a loop.

“What?”

“You have every right to question me right now with everything and how I’ve been acting and—”

“That’s not … I’m not questioning … I just …” My voice trails off as I realize he thinks I’m hesitant to kiss him, to be intimate with him, because of how closed off he’s been the past few days, when in reality it’s because I’m so overwhelmed with feelings. How do I tell him that and not freak him out? I can’t. Not with everything he’s going through.

“Hawke, it’s not you at all. I—”

“You guys gonna come out of your sex studio long enough to join the party?” Vince asks as he barges in the room. A knowing laugh falls from his mouth when he sees our positioning. “See, I knew it. Shit, I owe Rocket ten bucks. I told him that there was no way—”

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Hawke shouts over his shoulder. “We’re kind of busy.” He leans in and kisses me again, a little piece of Heaven amid the chaos that’s been surrounding us as of late. I slide my hands up his torso, anxious to feel him and touch him, show him somehow, some way that his past is his past, and that his future is wide open.

I moan into his mouth as his strong hand slides up under my shirt, rough to soft, and finds my breast, thumb grazing over my nipple as his mouth seduces me. I sink into the feeling, the emotion surrounding us, and can’t think of any other place I’d want to be.

Hawkin’s phone buzzes with a text and we ignore it as my hands start to tease and tempt and taunt his bare flesh, loving the heat of him beneath my fingertips, the bunching of muscles, the connection being made. His hands work wonders on my breasts, his fingers finding their way beneath my bra so his calloused fingers pleasurably scrape across my sensitized flesh. My head falls back as I lose myself to the sensation and he moves his mouth to the span of skin on my neck to place openmouthed kisses there.

His phone alerts another text. “Such a popular guy. I guess I should feel lucky to be in your presence,” I tease breathlessly, my senses in overdrive.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, right now,” he murmurs with his lips against my neck. His phone alerts again and he mutters, “Jesus Christ!”

“It might be your …” And my voice fades off, afraid to bring up his mom, but I’m already worried.

He swears again and leans back to the table he was writing lyrics on and grabs his phone. God he looks sexy with his hair all mussed up by my hands. He looks at his phone and scrunches his face up momentarily before slamming his phone down. I cringe at the sound and worry what’s wrong.

“Fucking Hunter,” he grits out. “The lecture’s over so he must be back on the prowl for drugs again. How is it possible he’s asking for money? He gets more than enough. Goddamn it!” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair before raising his eyes slowly to meet mine. “I’m sorry—this is … this is just how it is with me. I’m trying to change this—how I need to fix him and help—so it’s going to take me some time to not react … to not enable him. You deserve better than this….” His voice trails off and he lowers his head.

I scurry over to where he sits on his knees and mimic his posture. I force his head up with my hands and stare into those gray eyes of his that do funny things to my insides, even now when he’s looking at me with regret. “Hey, rocker boy … I don’t want anybody else though, I want you.” I love this hitch in his breath from my words, love knowing that it can affect him that way because maybe one day he’ll be able to tell me what I see in his eyes … that he feels the same way about me.