Maddie
There was a question in Hawke’s eyes, and I answered him with another smile, silently nodding and lowering my arms.
He took his time removing my shirt, unbuttoning each button, unwrapping me like a precious gift. That’s what it felt like—like I was giving him something special, some part of myself I’d never before shared with another man, saved up all this time just for him.
He slid the shirt off my shoulders and marveled at me, unabashed.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Maddie,” Hawke whispered, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth, his hands trailing lightly over my breasts, sending me into a full-bodied shiver. “Your bright blue eyes. Your crazy hair. Your mouth. Your perfect ass. And especially this.” He trailed his lips down the line of my scar from the base of my throat to my diaphragm, painting it with slow, fevered kisses that left me breathless. “I want my mouth on every part of you.”
“Me too.” I unzipped his hoodie and slid it off his shoulders, unwrapping him just as he’d unwrapped me—a gift to be cherished. He slid his arms out, and the hoodie fell to the couch, revealing his full torso to me.
I’d seen him naked earlier tonight, but that was different. That was standing in the dark forest in the middle of a snowstorm, still trying to reconcile the fact that I’d seen a wolf shift into a man before my eyes.
Now, before the warm, flickering glow of the fire, I could actually look at him.Reallylook at him.
His skin was a map of scars—too many to count. The deep slash of a knife wound along his ribcage. Two white circles on his right shoulder that had to be bullet wounds. Beneath them, an angry red X that could only be from a brand.
We rose together from the couch, and Hawke slid out of his jeans and boxers, revealing more of the same. Angry silver scars and slashes on his thigh, his legs. Knives and teeth. Whips and fire. Pain and torture.
My throat tightened, my vision blurring with tears. I wanted to kiss away every last mark, every last bit of pain he’d ever experienced, inside and out.
“I’m still here,” Hawke said softly. “I survived, just like you. That’s all it means. That’s all it’s ever meant.” He dipped his head and recaptured my gaze, then kissed me, sucking my lip between his teeth, biting gently, our breaths mingling as I sighed into his mouth and gave in to this pleasure one more time.
My eyes fluttered closed as Hawke’s hands slid down to cup my ass, and beneath his expert touch, the last of my reservations melted away.
Right now, all that existed was us, scarred and imperfect, but whole and alive, brought together by fate for one incredible, life-changing night before Christmas.
His addicting evergreens-and-cinnamon scent enveloped me as he kissed my shoulder, my neck, my collarbone, tracing a path to my breasts with his mouth. His dark hair tickled my skin as he grazed my nipple with his teeth, then licked, rough and then soft, the opposing sensations driving me wild with desire.
He ran his fingers down my chest, my abdomen, and instinctively I parted my thighs for him, welcoming his commanding touch once more. With a low growl, he dipped two fingers inside me, his thumb rubbing agonizingly slow circles against my clit, his mouth everywhere at once, kissing my scar, my nipples.
Hawke made love to my breasts the same way he’d made love to my mouth, to my thighs, to my stomach, as if every inch of my flesh was something to be worshipped. He was passionate, he was wild, he was so damn sensual.
And he never, ever treated me like glass.
“You feel so good,” I whispered, losing myself to the hot pleasure of his tongue. It was perfect and exquisite, but suddenly, it wasn’t enough.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to come by his fingers or his mouth.
I wanted him inside me. Now.
I sank down onto the plush rug in front of the fireplace, pulling Hawke down on top of me, his hard, delicious cock pressing against my abdomen.
He cupped my face, kissing my chin, my jaw, my ear. In a hot, soft breath, he whispered, “Touch yourself for me, Maddie.”
I was powerless to resist. I didn’twantto resist. I wanted to do everything he asked, everything he demanded.
Because everything he demanded felt so damn right.
“I used to be a nice girl before I met you.” I laughed softly as my hand drifted down between us.
“That a fact?” Hawke asked.
“No spankings,” I whispered, running a finger across my clit. “No orgasms at the dinner table.”
“Sounds like you met me just in time.”
I closed my eyes, the pleasure of my own touch making me shiver. “And now I have a naughty side.”
