Chapter Fifteen #3
“It has nothing to do with Silver. I think you know that. The dress, it looks good on you.” He slid his finger along the dainty strap that caressed her shoulder.
He reminded himself that they weren’t alone and he needed to guard his actions.
He could barely control his need to touch her though.
She was so damn small, yet so damn strong.
He circled his thumb over her satin smooth skin, so subtly that in the dim lighting no one would even notice, but she did.
He felt her shiver underneath his touch.
His hardening cock couldn’t be hidden. “I think it’s pure torment. ”
She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “The dress?”
“The dress on you.”
She smiled. “Thanks. It makes me feel feminine.”
He snorted. “It’s perfect.”
The last strains of the song faded and a faster tune came over the speakers.
Neither made a move to leave the floor.
Hawkeye whirled her out then pulled her back in, his face close to hers as he inhaled her scent. He clamped his arm around her waist, holding her, his knee sliding between her thighs. He lifted her onto her tiptoes. How could he be so wrapped up in her?
Her chin came up, her sultry gaze locked on him. “Hawkeye? What’s come over you?”
“You.” He could lose himself in her eyes. Now they were transparent like a cloudless sky after a hard storm.
Hawkeye wouldn’t consider himself a player when it came to women, but he also had never been nervous or insecure with them either.
He’d met a lot of women along the way—all shapes, sizes, characters, and professions.
He didn’t have a type. He held respect and appreciation for every woman.
He’d slept with a few—more than a few—and enjoyed the feeling of sinking his body into a sloping landscape of velvety curves, but this was different.
Sure, he did think about holding her naked body and making her toes curl, but he also liked talking to her.
Learning every layer. Listening to her laugh.
He’d never met anyone quite like Margo.
He wanted to pick her brain and learn all there was to know about her.
He pulled her even closer until there was no room between their bodies. He should be pushing her away. This could complicate things. Things were already a disaster. They had a killer on the loose.
His career had taught him to not have any responsibilities outside of missions and taking care of himself. To avoid relationships because he had nothing to give.
Margo deserved someone better than Hawkeye and Davani. She was a perfect combination of softness and strength. Smart ass and receptive. Sweet and kind.
His mind issued a warning, but his body stayed rock-hard. He could tell himself until he was blue in the face that he was her protector and needed to stay close, but the truth came like a rainbow at the end of the storm. He wanted to be near her and keeping his distance had been pure hell.
Strands of her hair attached to his whiskers, drawing him into the thick mass of waves. She smelled so damn good.
Her hands moved along his back, exploring him. He heard her softly sigh as she released the tension and gave into desire.
He could hear the heavy beating of his heart in his ears as they continued to dance. Neither said a word.
Moving his hand to her waist, he skimmed his finger along the curve of her bottom. Firm. He wanted to explore its roundness.
He wondered what she tasted like. Honey bourbon? Blueberry wine?
What sounds did she make when she came? Did she whimper? Moan? Scream?
Damn. He needed the answers before he drove himself mad.
Margo tipped her head back, the neon lighting above them caught her eyes. She was so beautiful that it took his breath away.
This was wrong on so many levels.
He should step back. Take his leave.
But something kept him glued to the floor.
Their gazes stayed locked. He imagined removing the dress from her body.
What was she wearing underneath? A matching pair of panties and bra?
Or nothing. Some women didn’t like wearing those things.
He fantasized having her stretched across his bed, her legs open, her pussy slick with need.
He wanted to slide his cock into her warmth and feel her lift her hips upward to meet him.
His body was as hard as steel. His breath came in pants.
He knew what he saw in her gaze. She wanted him too.
“That’s a bit of a surprise.” She rubbed her hips against his bulging zipper.
“But is it?”
They were so close they shared oxygen. Their heartbeats in unison. No one existed but the two of them.
Then an unbelievable thing happened. The cowboy, Carl, returned.
“I want another dance.” He appeared drunk and wobbly.
“Not happening,” Hawkeye said.
“What the hell?” Carl whined. “Can’t the lady speak for herself?”
“The answer’s no,” she said without looking his direction.
“How about we get out of here?” Hawkeye said.
“Good idea.” She looked relieved.
He grabbed her hand and led her through the other couples dancing arm in arm, cheek to cheek.
He pushed open the door and let her step outside and then he followed, placing his hand at the small of her back to keep them connected.
He barely got to his truck before he pushed her gently up against the door and kissed her.
He needed to know what she tasted like. Needed to have her close.
He’d been a fool to think he could stop there with just one kiss.
This led to him needing to touch her.
Her hand gliding in his hair was just the encouragement he needed to press his hand over her breast. He could feel the plump nipple through the thin material, causing his mouth to salivate.
He hauled her up, pressing her back against the passenger door. A seductive whimper came from her parted lips. She had her legs around his hips, pressing her hot, damp core against his waist.
The kiss deepened.
Her nails scraped down his back.
He pushed between her lips and their tongues tangled. Hawkeye had never needed someone more than he needed her.
Sweat slicked their bodies although the night had cooled. He couldn’t get close enough. Their clothes became barriers. The scent of her circled around him and through him—teasing him.
The screeching of the bar door and laughter rained down like ice cold water.
He wrenched his mouth away and set her down to her feet. She wobbled slightly but he held her, not wanting to break all contact.
From the shadows of their intimate corner of the parking lot, Hawkeye watched the couple get into a car and drive away, the taillights illuminating Margo’s face. She was staring up at him, her mouth slightly parted.
“I guess I should apologize,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. The dress. Watching the cowboy slobber all over you. Maybe it’s just you. I don’t know, but I’m wrecked with need.”
He saw new creases around her eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t devalue what we shared with an apology. I wanted it just as much as you did. Maybe more.”
“I can’t get carried away. Distractions can be dangerous.”
“Is that how you see me? As a distraction.”
Hurt flooded her eyes. Damn. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to take care of her. “Margo, you need to understand—”
“If you see me as a distraction then it makes sense why you’ve kept your distance.”
What could he say? This was a mess. Couldn’t she see that he couldn’t give her what a woman like her needed.
Probably wanted. She’d never said that she wanted a relationship but women like her always wanted a man to give her love and affection.
Tenderness. He didn’t know if he even had a tender side.
“Why did you kiss me?” she said in a shaky whisper, bringing her fingers up to touch her lips.
“I want you.”
Her hand dropped. “I want you too.”
He reached around her and opened the door. “Get in. The night’s not over.”
She looked through the veil of her thick lashes. “Be careful, Hawkeye. Don’t play with my emotions.”
“I’m not a player, Margo. That’s why I’m up front. I’m not the marrying type, or even a relationship type.”
“Who said anything about marriage?” She groaned and climbed into the passenger seat. From there her gaze remained on him, pulling him deeper into the undercurrent.
He grabbed the seatbelt and stretched it over her, locking it into place.
“You should always be truthful with yourself. You’re the marrying type.” He closed the door and cursed himself a blue streak as he strolled to the driver’s side.
Things had turned upside down and what could stop the powerful flow pulsating between them? Keeping his hands off her would be like holding his breath. He’d slowly die.