Sweet Ache
“Quin …”
“Look … I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. It’s going to take time and I get that.” I lean forward and use my lips to reinforce the words. He pulls me into him and uses his tongue meeting mine to tell me he understands.
The door at our back flings open, the noise of the party escalating tenfold from when Vince did what seems like minutes ago. “Hawkin motherfucking Play! Get your and Trixie’s ass out here now!” Gizmo says with a drunken laugh. “It’s time to party!”
The tenderness of the moment is gone but I still have Hawke in my arms. “We can escape if you want…. After this week, you might not want to …”
“Nah,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m okay.” He kisses me one more time. “We’re coming, Giz!”
Note to self: Never let Rocket mix me drinks again. Holy shit, he makes them strong!
My mind’s a bit fuzzy as I wander downstairs looking for Hawkin, wanting to make sure he’s okay after all of the shit from this week. And I might want to take him upstairs and have my way with him because every time I think of him, I feel that ache deep in my core and know the only person who can sate it is him.
“Have you seen Hawkin?” I ask a group of women, my buzzed mind not registering until it’s too late that they’re probably here angling for the man that I have and they might not be too friendly.
“Why, who are you?” The redhead sneers.
“I’m with the band,” I say, my own private joke because they think I’m just another floozy on the long list of them here tonight.
“Really?”
“Is it true what they say?”
“Do they like to tag team?”
All three questions are thrown at me at once and I can’t focus on a single one of them because I catch sight of Hawkin across the room. “Sure, yeah …” I leave them behind, on a mission to walk up and kiss him to prove to them I am indeed with the band.
About fifteen feet away from Hawke, I stop when I see him arguing with Vince. I can’t hear what they’re saying but can tell by the body language that Hawke’s not happy. I walk closer, curious and cautious at the same time.
“Why are you pushing this so hard?” Hawke asks, his jaw clenching.
“Deal’s a deal, man.” He shrugs his shoulder and catches my eye, immediately standing down. He holds his hands up in mock surrender and backs away. Hawke shoots daggers at him and Vince just laughs with a shake of his head. “I’m off to the head. Let me know when you change your mind.” He turns to leave the kitchen, and when he walks past me, he stops to kiss me on the cheek. “Convince your man to come and play, Trixie.”
It takes a minute for his words to sink in and by the time they do, Vince is gone. I’m not sure what in the hell he means but shrug it off because I meet Hawke’s eyes and even though there’s underlying irritation at Vince, I can also see the desire we unleashed earlier simmering beneath it.
I walk toward him; the sight of him slightly unkempt, with a carefree smile he hasn’t possessed for days calls to my libido on so many levels it’s ridiculous. He brings a shot of something to his mouth and I don’t even give a second thought to what it is because I know I’ll taste it on my lips momentarily.
He hums deep in his throat when I step up into his body and there is something so inherently sexy about the sound—knowing that I caused that reaction—that together with the feel of his firm body against mine lets me know there will be no interruptions this time.
He looks at me, eyes darkening and one hand sliding beneath my shirt a beat before our lips meet in a hungry, no-holds-barred kiss. His empty bottle clatters on the counter behind him so that his other hand can join in the temptation. I lose myself in the taste of the tequila on his tongue, and the hypnotizing feeling of his hands on my body.
The music thumps hard around us, the noise buzzes, and the faint scent of cigarette smoke wafts in from outside but it’s as if none of it hits me because I’m consumed by everything about him: his taste, his cologne, the groan I can’t hear but can feel against our connected chests, the heat of his body. I don’t care who’s watching because it’s almost as if the overwhelming emotions that he’s experienced all week long are manifesting themselves into our mutual desperation.
“Upstairs. Now,” he murmurs against my lips, and I’ve never heard more perfect words. He grasps the bottle of tequila behind him in one hand and my hand in the other without saying anything further and walks with purpose through the crowd. I can’t see his face but he must have a determined look on it because not one person stops him to talk when that’s been the norm for the evening thus far. At the bottom of the stairs, I catch the eyes of the three wannabe women and just smirk. Call me bitchy, but I can’t help it, I’m with the one they were hoping to land tonight.
Chapter 29
QUINLAN
We reach Hawke’s room and he pushes the door open, sets the bottle down, then closes the door. The minute it shuts behind us, giving us a reprieve from the thumping bass below, we collide together in a mass of desperate desire turned into burning need. We’re all hands and mouths and moans and grinds, body to body, need against want, desire fueled by lust. I can’t get enough of him. Not now, not ever, and I just allow myself to feel this, feel him, and not think.
He puts his hands in my shirt and pulls it over my head, throwing it behind him without thought, his mouth back on mine. Then he pulls away, shocking me from the lack of connection despite the heat of his breath panting over my lips. “I’ll be right back. I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs against my groan.