book title

The emotions rushing through me when Hawk agrees to be my first are out of this world. Pure lust mixed with elation and nervousness and joy and anticipation and… it’s a cocktail that’s making me as high as a kite.

I gulp my whiskey, the liquid burning my throat. Suddenly, I can’t think of a single thing to ask him. Nothing decent, anyway. I can think of a lot of dirty questions. Will his cock fit inside me? Will he lick my folds the way I’ve fantasized?

I close my eyes and wrap my hand around my glass. I’m losing control, and I love it. It’s like Hawk’s allowing me to see a side of myself I’ve never discovered before. He’s opening the door to my sexuality, slamming it wide open. I realize he’s waiting for me to ask him something, so I take a deep breath and fire off a question while the nervous tension between us builds and crackles.

“First tattoo you did? On real skin.”

“A bouquet of wildflowers. For a girl who just got out of college.”

I lean back in my chair. “Favorite hobby?”

“Lifting weights and hiking.”

My gaze travels over his body. Makes sense. He’s chiseled out of stone, after all.

“Favorite music?” I ask, taking another sip of whiskey.

I snort so hard that whiskey shoots out of my nose. The tension hanging in the air mere seconds ago is completely gone. “That can’t be true.”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Why not? I could be a… what do they call them again?”

“Exactly.” His wink is so sexy that my hands tremble.

I raise my eyebrow and try not to laugh. “What’s your favorite song of hers?”

“The one about a bad break-up.”

“That’s like half her songs!”

He grins at me, and my heart skips a beat. How does he know exactly what to say or do to make me feel at ease? He did it when we were at Bearclaw Ink together too. This man gets me. Knows how to handle me, like a mechanic tuning an engine—tightening bolts with just the right amount of torque, adjusting the steering wheel with meticulous precision, and pushing the right buttons to make the engine purr.

Without taking his eyes off me, he drinks his whiskey in one go and asks, “Does this question thing work both ways?”

I nod nervously, suddenly feeling super self-aware under his sexy, scrutinizing gaze. “Ask away.”

“How come a girl like you is still single? It makes no sense.”

“No one has ever caught my attention like you have. The guys I went to college with were so juvenile and immature. More boy than man, you know? I’ve always preferred older guys. Not twice my age older. That came as a surprise to me too,” I jokingly say. “When I saw you at the tattoo shop, it felt like Cupid shot his arrow straight through my heart. I’ve never had that happen before. Ever. What about you?”

He slowly rubs a hand over his thick beard. “You’re the first woman who truly understands me and my passions. Who looks like a fucking goddess and doesn’t even realize it. The first woman I can be completely myself with. I’ve spent the last twenty years alone, but you were worth the wait. Hell, I’d wait lifetimes for a chance with you.”

My mouth goes dry. “We should get out of here.”

Hawk pushes his chair back, and we rush outside.

“Shouldn’t you pay first?” I ask, remembering he bought the drinks.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Sloane will understand.”

He picks me up by the waist, planting me on his motorcycle as if I’m as light as a feather. It only takes us ten minutes to reach his place. By the time I hop off and hand him back his helmet, I’m dizzy with lust. Wild horses couldn’t drag me from his arms.

Hawk feels the same. The way he sprints inside his mountain cabin tells me as much.

Once the door is shut behind our asses, he turns and pushes me against the door. The doorknob digs into my back, but I don’t care. He looks at me with hungry eyes, and I lose control. My mouth finds his, and I kiss him passionately—almost violently.

“Are you sure about this, Delilah?” he asks as I bite his lip.

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life, Hawk,” I pant. “I want you so bad. In the past, whenever I thought about having sex, it felt weird and awkward. Now that I’ve met you, I want nothing more than to get naked and… do things to you. Have you do things to me.”

“Things?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I grin. “Dirty things.”

“Fuck, girl, you insist on driving me crazy, huh?” he grunts before sealing my mouth with his again.

His hands travel to my backside. He strokes me with the same precision and consideration as an artist painting on canvas.

I try to wrap my legs around him, and he grabs me by the ass, lifting and carrying me to his bedroom.

“Will you kiss me again?” I’m not ashamed to admit I already miss his lips on mine.

“Girl, I’d kiss the ground you walk on. I’m going to worship you like the goddess you are,” he promises, placing me on the bed.

Unlike my Foo Fighters bedspread, Hawk has a plain dark blue one. No frills or multiple colors, just straight-to-the-point sheets.

Like the man himself, who is doing as I asked—kissing me long and passionately. It’s hard to believe I was living a completely different life mere days ago.

I tug at the seams of his shirt, desperate to get him out of it. When the thing lands on the bedroom floor, I don’t know where to look first—his strong shoulders that ripple with every move, his muscles as solid as granite, or the tattoos scattered over his torso, forming a gorgeous landscape of art.

I place my hands on his chest, my fingers trailing the skin leading to his collarbones, down his arms, and back to his chest. I could do this forever. I lift my eyes and search his. A lazy smile appears on his face, and he dips his head to kiss me. His lips are soft, warm, and clearly made to connect with my body.

With every stroke of his fingers, every touch of his tongue, and every hot breath, liquid pools between my legs.

“You’re making me wetter than I’ve ever been,” I brazenly tell him, wanting him to know what he’s doing to me.

“Is that so? I’ll need to check to make sure.”

His hand travels down. He hitches my dress up and pulls it over my head. While he keeps kissing me, he pulls my panties down a bit—enough to reach my pussy. His hand strokes over my folds, expertly avoiding my clit. He’s teasing me, and I fucking love every second.

I arch my back, wanting more. Needing to feel him right there—where it throbs and swells. His fingers slide up and down, already sticky and wet, until they finally dip inside my pussy. He drags them in and out, pressing his thumb to my swollen nub.

His touch sends an electric shock through my body, and my eyes fly open as I cry out his name.