18. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Hawk's head snaps to the side as my palm connects with his face, but his expression remains the same.
Slowly, he turns his head back to glower at me, eyes hard and dark.
"Are you done now?" he asks angrily.
I gawk at him. "You seriously have the nerve to be angry at me ?" I yell.
He just glares at me, making me even more frustrated.
I'm completely overwhelmed with emotion—mainly burning rage. And the longer the silence passes between us, the more it builds.
Finally, I snap. I raise my hand without thinking, ready to hit him again.
It grabs his attention, Hawk reacting swiftly as he snatches my wrist in his tight grab, slamming me into the wall of the elevator.
The air rushes out of me, my body aching from the impact, but it just fuels me on more.
"You're despicable!" I snap.
Hawk grabs my throat, pinning me against the wall. I let out a gasp as I try to breathe but his fingers just clench around my neck more firmly. He leans forward, pressing our foreheads together.
"Is that so?" he says threateningly.
I nod the best I can against his grip, ignoring the burn, crushing feeling in my chest as my lungs scream for air.
Resisting the urge to claw his face, I leave my arms dangling by my side, determined to not give in. We're battling for power, and this time, I'm motivated by wrath.
"Too. Fucking. Bad," he hisses, letting his hand back slightly.
I suck in a big breath through my nose, glaring at him. "Fuck you, Hawk," I croak back, using the minimal air I have available.
Hawk's lips twitch in amusement. His gaze softens, my senses on high alert. Slowly, he leans forward. I think he's about to kiss me, and my eyes flutter closed, but instead, his tongue darts out, flicking my lips.
My eyes shoot back open as I'm caught off guard. As soon as I do, Hawk closes the gap between us, kissing me hard.
Immediately, I kiss him back, hands reaching up to grab him. My fingers land on his waist, digging into his ribs through his shirt. I want to hurt him—but I also want him to touch me. It's a deadly combination.
Gripping my throat tighter, he flings me across the elevator, my feet stumbling as my hands reach out and catch myself before I can hit the wall. There's a loud bell noise, and I whip around, watching Hawk remove his hand from the emergency stop button.
The elevator comes to a grinding halt and I lean back against the wall, breathing heavily. He crosses the short distance to me, pulling me toward him by the back of my neck as he kisses me again.
Around us, a voice speaks through the intercom box, asking if we need assistance, but we ignore it. Hands snake around my back, traveling down to my thighs. He bunches my skirt up in his hands, yanking the tight, fitted material up to my hips.
Hawk kicks my legs apart, hand dipping inside my underwear without delay. His finger presses inside of me, roughly feeling me as his palm smacks against my clit.
I lift my right leg up, hooking it around his waist to give him better access. Hawk rips his hand out, grabbing the back of my legs and lifting me up. My back smashes into the wall and I wrap both legs around his waist, our mouths still locked as he reaches between us to free himself from his jeans.
His cock presses against my opening and in one quick motion, he's inside me. There's no pause, his hips slamming upwards as he spears into me. The elevator railing pushes into my back, pain washing down me but I don't care. The only thing I can focus on is him.
Right now he's everything—the one I hate, the one I need, the one I crave.
I grip his head with my hands, clawing him as our tongues battle for dominance. My fingertips feel wet but he doesn't release me, our bodies colliding with each other.
"I hate you," I breathe into his mouth.
I can feel him smirk against me, my eyes squeezed shut. He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth, almost hard enough to draw blood.
"Good," he growls in a low whisper. "Fuck and come as hard as you hate me."
His hand reaches down, rubbing my clit fast. I whimper into his mouth, fingers tightening their grip even more.
I explode around him, my back arching off the wall so violently that I'm worried my spine will break in half—but I don't care.
Hawk smirks to himself, wrapping his arm around my back to hold me against him as he thrusts into me deeper. The sound of our skin slapping together echoes around the elevator, and when he stills inside of me, I know it's over. He doesn't make a sound, but he grips my face, holding eye contact as he releases himself deep in me.
Slowly, he lowers me to the ground, my legs shaking as I try to regain balance. The voice through the intercom speaks again and I hastily adjust my skirt, fixing it up.
Hawk adjusts his own clothing, walking back over to the panel and hits the button again. The elevator buzzes to life, the gears shifting as we continue our descent to the ground level.
The doors open with a ding and I shove past him, heading straight for the stairs that lead to the underground parking lot. He follows me in silence, not engaging with me. I'm still shaking from adrenaline and rage, with half a mind to go back to my office just to spite him.
Instead, I head toward my car, reaching for my keys. Hawk grabs my elbow, yanking me in the opposite direction.
"What now?" I scold, stumbling over my feet as he drags me toward another line of cars.
"This way," he answers, like I'm asking a stupid question.
"My car is over there," I snap back, pointing in the direction of the back wall.
He stops in front of a black Porsche 911 Carrera GTS, daring me to run with a glance. My eyes scan the vehicle, noticing a figure inside the vehicle.
On cue, the door opens and out steps Jett, smiling at me warmly.
"Get in, Tempest," he says.
I scoff. "No, thanks. I'll drive myself home."
Hawk grabs my arm, pulling me to the passenger side door where Jett is standing. Jett pulls the seat forward, ready as Hawk pushes the top of my head down and angles me inside.
"Seriously?" I gasp, scrambling onto the backseat. "Why can't I drive myself home?"
The seat clicks back into place as Jett climbs in front of me, looking over his shoulder. "Too wet to drive home," he answers. "Put your seatbelt on. Hawk likes to drive fast."
Hawk doesn't respond to the comment as he sits down in the driver's seat, but realizing I'm not going to win this argument, I speedily reach for my belt and put it on.
The engine revs loudly, tires squealing as Hawk rips out of the parking spot, taking the tight corners too fast for my liking. My hands fumble, grabbing onto anything I can to hold on for support.
When we reach the exit of the underground parking lot, the rain immediately crashes down onto the car, drowning out any sounds or opportunities to speak. Hawk makes a right instead of my normal left, and my heart drops.
I lean forward, raising my voice to speak over the loud rain. "You're going the wrong way. My home is in the other direction."
"We're not going to your apartment," Hawk replies simply.
"What do you mean?" I ask in a panic. "Where are we going?"
I squint through the windows, noticing that we're not going in the direction of our parents' house either. Neither of them answer me, despite my repeated requests.
Resigning myself to the fact they aren't going to talk to me, I slump back in my seat, knuckles deadly white as the car weaves in and out of traffic.
At least I'll die in a nice car…
We travel for about twenty minutes in traffic until finally we reach the outskirts. The rain eases up slightly, giving me the chance to view my surroundings. We're in the more expensive part of Phoenix—Paradise Valley, if I'm correct.
Large, luxurious houses—no, mansions —fill the streets, lights appearing as people get home from work.
Finally, we pull into the long driveway of a huge gray modern house. In the distance, there's astonishing views of Camelback Mountain. The garage door opens with a click of a button and we pull inside, the sound of rain fading away.
The car turns off and I wait for them to speak. Hawk gets out of the car, ignoring us, as he heads to an internal door. Alone with Jett, I stare at him curiously.
"Do you live here?" I ask, taken aback.
"Yep," he answers, flinging the door open and pulling the seat forward. He holds out his hand for me, which I automatically grab without thinking. Clutching my hand firmly, he gets a steady grip on me as I climb out of the Porsche.
I hover next to the car, eyes glancing over at the open door leading to the inside of the house. "What am I doing here, Jett?"
Jett closes the car door, stepping closer to me. "Come on. I'll give you a tour of the house."
He turns, leaving me standing there as he heads to the door. It leaves me no choice but to follow, a decision I'm sure to regret later.
As I step out of the garage, we head down a corridor which leads to an open space living area. Large windows cover the adjacent wall from top to bottom, looking out over the mountains. Everything is white or some variation of it, the tiles absolutely spotless as our footsteps echo.
Jett stops, watching me as I walk over to the window, gazing out with astonishment. "Do you like it?" he asks, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"It's gorgeous," I tell him, giving him a confused look. "Is this really your house?"
He looks surprised. "Why wouldn't it be?"
My eyes scan the room—the light colors, the neat presentation, the simplistic furniture—it just doesn't exactly scream psychopaths.
"Just not how I pictured it."
"So, you've pictured it?" he asks with a laugh.
My head snaps back toward him. "That's not what I meant. I'm just surprised, that's all."
"We designed and built it," he says proudly. "Only finished a month ago."
I stare at him, stunned. "You designed this?"
Jett walks over to me, grabbing my hand. "I'll show you," he answers bluntly, pulling me through a door on the other side of the room.
We walk through the house, first through the large modern kitchen, then another living area—finally to a home cinema complete with a giant screen and leather recliners. Heading upstairs, I frown at the light gray carpet, worried that I'm trudging dirt and mud onto it, but Jett doesn't seem fazed.
At the top of the staircase, I find myself in another open plan living space. More large windows line the room, and there's a pool table in the corner. Outside, there's a balcony to view the mountains, the large area complete with a cooking area and spacious jacuzzi.
We round the corner to head toward the front of the house and I peer through open doors, spotting bedrooms. We reach the end of the corridor, another window panel looking out onto the street and two bedrooms either side of the hallway. They share a joint balcony, and when I gaze into the one on the right, I find Hawk, standing by a large king sized bed, removing his hoodie.
Looking up, he watches me closely, face still hard. It's unsettling—because despite what happened in the elevator, I'm still mad at him for what he did. Worst still, he has the nerve to be mad at me. I haven't done anything wrong, and I want an explanation.
"Are you ready to talk yet?" I ask him sternly, crossing my arms.
I make no effort to enter the room, and he doesn't walk over to me either. Instead, he pulls off his shirt, his muscles flexing as he discards the shirt into a laundry basket in the corner of the room.
"What are we talking about?" he questions harshly.
"Why are you such an asshole?" I shoot back, and it's a general question, covering all areas.
Hawk pauses, eyes narrowing at me. "Want to repeat that?"
"Sure," I sneer. "Why are you an asshole?"
Jett lets out an exasperated sigh behind me, a warning, but I can handle him. Hawk stalks over to me, boxing me in as his hand leans against the frame next to my head.
His eyes scan my face, but I don't break our connection. I wait, raising an eyebrow at him.
"You should be thanking me, Rayne."