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I move to open the door when Hawke is suddenly at my back. “Who’s coming over?”
“No,” I snap, spinning around to meet Hawke’s scowl. “You do not get to ask me that.” I stab his chest with my finger.
Hawke opens his mouth to argue and the doorbell rings. Oh my god. This is so awful.
“Great.” I turn to Hawke, throwing up my hands. I thrust a finger in his face. “Don’t be an ass.”
His frown deepens and my eyes are drawn to the shiny metal in his furrowed brow. God, I’m such a sucker for those piercings. Heat sparks at the base of my spine, the flames licking up my back inch by inch until I feel like I’m on fire. The doorbell rings again, tearing me from the wave of lust about to crash over me.
“Be nice,” I hiss through clenched teeth before opening the door and smiling at the man on my doorstep. “Hi, Ezra. Come on in.”
“Hey, Abby. You look gorge—”
Ezra halts in his tracks when he spots Hawke hovering at my side. Hawke is giving Ezra a glacial look that would make any serial killer proud.
“Sorry.” I step between the two men. “Ezra, this is my friend, Hawke Evans. Hawke, this is Ezra Thorpe.”
Ezra extends a hand, which Hawke reluctantly shakes.
“Hawke was just leaving,” I tell Ezra. I grab Hawke by the arm and pull him toward the door.
“Wait,” Ezra holds up a hand. “Are you the Hawke Evans from Sphere of Irony?”
“He really has to go,” I interrupt, all but shoving Hawke out the door.
Not to be dissuaded, Hawke turns to face Ezra. “Yes. That’s me.” He flicks his eyes up and down, taking stock of Ezra, sizing him up I’m sure.
Ezra is no waif. He’s tall, maybe six feet, all lean muscle, with short brown hair styled into a tousled mess. He has several tattoos decorating the visible skin of his forearms. I blush when I realize that based on the two men in front of me, and the few I’ve dated in the past, I have a “type.”
“Cool.” Ezra grins and Hawke’s scowl turns murderous.
“Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Bye!” I push a gaping Hawke onto the porch steps and shut the door behind him.
My heart is pounding against my ribs. I lean my forehead on the doorframe to get myself composed, but all I can think about is the way my body burst into flames just from Hawke’s proximity. He doesn’t even have to touch me to get me going.
“So, how do you know the drummer from Sphere of Irony?”
Ezra’s voice reminds me that I still have a date tonight. Thanks to Hawke, now I’m thinking about him naked and my date probably has about a million questions.
Damn.
Hawke
“Want another?” Dax dangles his beer in front of my face. “I can have the staff fetch you one.”
“Nah.” I sink back on the comfortable lounge chair by his hotel’s pool and people-watch from behind my dark sunglasses. We’re partially hidden by a large cabana, but not completely. I’ve caught a few guests pointing at us and sneaking pictures.
“We’re all going out tonight, you coming along?” he asks, pulling my attention from a couple of college-aged girls who I can tell are working up the courage to approach us.
“Where are you planning to go?” The three girls giggle and keep sneaking glances our way.
Fuck, I hope they don’t come over. I’ve been in a shitty mood ever since Gavin’s verbal lashing the other day. That combined with coming face to face with Abby’s douchebag of
a date has me acting like an asshole pretty much nonstop. Something about that guy rubbed me wrong. It was the look in his eyes. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t trust him at all. I was tempted to follow them to make sure he didn’t touch Abby with his slimy hands, but decided that sounded crazy and went home to sulk instead.
“Adam was invited to some big party for the newest Warren Hotel club opening here in LA. Victory? Vector? Versus?” Dax shakes his head. “Bloody hell, I don’t know. Some ‘v’ name I can’t recall. Anyway, you remember Adam’s friend Sydney? It’s her launch party.”
“Sydney Tannen?”
