Maddie
Wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, I rummaged through the green toiletry bag for my pills, double-checking each label to make sure I got the dosage right. This particular cocktail was a new combination, and I was still getting used to them, but they were the best ones yet. No mood swings, no tremors, and only a tiny bit of nausea when I didn’t eat enough.
Best of all? No chipmunk face.
I lined them all up in my hand, counted them once more to be sure, then swallowed them with a handful of water from the sink. I was only off by an hour or so, but still. I couldn’t afford to lose track like that again. What if I’d completely forgotten about them tonight? What if Hawke hadn’t been able to get back into the car with all that snow?
I fisted my locket, whispering another ginormousthank you. I’d already had so many near-misses in my life, so many second chances… How many more would I get before I finally maxed out? Before the universe or God or whoever was in charge up there decided that keeping me alive was more trouble than it was worth?
Don’t think like that, girl. You’re doing fine. Totally fine.
Sucking in a deep breath, I capped the bottles and zipped everything back into the toiletry bag.
Right.Medicinebag was more like it.
I rolled my eyes. As if I’d really send someone out in a blizzard for conditioner, of all things. Hawke must’ve thought I was the silliest girl in the world.
Oh well. I’d gotten the pills—that was the important thing.
Normally, I would’ve taken the time to dry and flat-iron my hair, maybe dab on some lip gloss, but I wanted to get back downstairs to see if the phones were working yet so I could call my family and at least let them know I was in town. They’d probably been trying to call me all day, assuming I was celebrating Christmas alone in New York. I didn’t want them to worry.
Yeah, girl.That’sthe reason you want to get downstairs. It has nothing to do with that sexy, tough-as-nails bad boy waiting for you in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron and an oven mitt…
I laughed. Hawke wassonot the apron-wearing type. And he most certainly wasn’t down therewaitingfor me. If anything, he was probably hiding, afraid I’d talk him to death, or worse—send him outside again.
I still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone out there and got all my bags.
What was his deal, anyway? One minute he was a gruff and hot-tempered jerk, and the next, he was the sweetest freaking guy I’d ever met.
Well, maybesweetwasn’t the right word. He’d definitely surprised me with moments of kindness and generosity, and despite his gruffness, I felt completely at ease around him, even when I was naked and vulnerable in the shower. But there was something dangerous about Hawke, too—a wild restlessness that simmered just beneath the surface, calling out to the same restlessness inside me.
I had a feeling he’d sensed it, too—whatever “it” was. He’d probably never admit it, but I could tell by the way he watched me, the way his eyes smoldered with barely contained passion, desperate for some kind of outlet.
Our paths were never meant to cross, but now that they had, I wanted to get to know him.
I wanted to… to touch him.
I wanted—I realized suddenly—to be utterlytakenby him. Andthatthought shocked the hell out of me.
Sure, I’d always had little crushes and fantasies, every one of them ready to be conjured up in my mind at a moment’s notice whenever my bed started to feel a little too cold and lonely. But I’d never felt such an intense physical pull toward a man—toward a total stranger—before. Especially not one whose default setting was Raging Jackass.
My whole body nearly burst into flames when he’d touched my face with those big hands and smoothed away my tears.
Crazy.
I hung my towel on the door hook and stood naked before the steamed-up mirror, my reflection a blur as I ran my hands down the front of my body. A vision slipped unbidden into my mind—Hawke standing behind me, his gaze fiery in the mirror, my breasts filling his hands as he stroked my nipples with those rough, calloused fingers…
Holy hell. Fifteen seconds ofthatnaughty little daydream was enough to flood me with hot, molten desire that made me ache.
My thoughts were suddenly overrun with him: Hawke, gliding his hands along my curves. Hawke, pressing his hot mouth to the back of my neck, growling against my damp skin. Hawke, fisting his cock and ordering me to part my thighs for him. Hawke, bending me over the sink and takingeverythingI had to offer.
I bet he’d knowjustwhat he was doing, too.
I had a steady boyfriend in college—my first and only lover—but he’d always treated me like a glass doll. He honestly believed that sex might kill me, even on my healthiest days, and he didn’t trust me to know my own limits. No matter how often I tried to experiment, to push things a little farther in the bedroom, our sex life never rose above lukewarm. Adequate, maybe. Comfortable and safe. But not wild. Not passionate.
Hawke Stevens? That man didn’t know themeaningof comfortable and safe. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, the cocky attitude, the rock-hard body… everything about him was aggressive, commanding, and hot as hell.
And he’s probably as fierce and demanding in the bedroom as he is out of it…
