Page 65 of Misted
His fingers brush against my bare skin as he pushes my zipper down. I’m so out of it, but I can’t help the shiver running down my back and straight to my pulsating core. Will there ever be a day where he won’t spring my body to life?
My dress rubs against my sensitive skin as he pushes it down my shoulders. The black cloth pools to the ground around my wobbly feet. I stand in my black, lace underwear in front of him, feeling dazed, weak and anything but sexy. However, when I chance a peek at Hawk, he’s devouring my body with heated, fiery eyes.
It’s like he’s feasting on me in his mind. Every particle of my being leaps to attention with a smouldering desire that matches his.
He holds me upright with a hand on my shoulder and that point of contact blazes with scorching need.
His gaze trails from my half-naked breasts to my mid-section and it feels like he’s re-learning my body and running his fingers over every curve.
A moan lodges at the back of my throat and my nipples pucker and harden. The effect he has on me exceeds the confines of my body and touches a deep part in my soul.
The intimate moment halts when he narrows his darkening, ferocious gaze on my side. A small dagger tattoo rests right above my hip with thorny flowers twirling around the hilt and down to the pointy side. I wrap my arms around myself in a pathetic attempt to hide it. Hawk yanks my arms and imprisons them behind my back with one hand.
If eyes can shoot fire, my side will be burned to ashes now.
I bite my lower lip, somehow feeling exposed that he’s seen this part of me. My deepest, most vulnerable secret.
It took me all the courage I could muster to get past my fear of needles and let Ink tattoo this. I told him to black me out or do whatever it takes as long as I have this permanent reminder on my skin.
No one but me and Ink has ever seen this tattoo, and now that Hawk is studying it with such intensity make me feel so exposed. Does he remember it? It’s been a long time, but –
“You let Ink touch you?” he growls in a low murderous tone.
That’s all he thinks about?
I shouldn’t be feeling anything that he forgot about that, but my chest tightens, anyway.
Screw him.
Although I’m unable to stand on my own, I push him away, panting, and stumble into the now-filled bathtub. Water splashes all around me. My foot slips on the wet edge and I lose balance, almost falling off. A strong hand clutches my arm and he helps me sit down in the cool water. My sensitive skin soaks in the warmth. Not too hot, but not too cold either.
I release a long breath, my head leaning back against the bathtub as the water covers me to my chin.
Hawk was right. After vomiting, the ringing in my head faded into a tolerable buzz.
My shaky fingers reach for a shampoo bottle on the side of the tub. Lilac. This can’t be a coincidence.
Hawk snatches it away and positions himself behind me outside the tub. He spills water on my hair and shampoos my scalp with firm, almost angry movements. Despite his pissy mood, I can’t help but soak into his touch and the mere connection of him washing my hair.
The air ripples with steam, lilac scent, and our thick silence. A shot of need tightens my nipples and causes my thighs to clench. It doesn’t matter that I’m weak, on withdrawal, or feel like dying.
Wanting Hawk isn’t a ruse of the moment or a bodily need. It’s a constant state of mind.
His fingers thread into my thick strands as his low, deep voice fills the silence. “I asked you a question.”
“And I refused to answer.”
He fists my hair around his hand and tilts my head back so I’m staring at his turquoise eyes backwards. “Don’t fucking push me.”
“Or what? You’ll kidnap me? Fuck me like a whore? Tie me to a bed and torture me? All done.” I don’t cower away from his murderous gaze. “Let me go. You hurt me enough already.”
“Not enough.” His grip tightens on my hair until pain explodes in my scalp. “It’s nothing compared to being shot in the back by the one person I trusted the most.”
I gulp the ball in my throat. This is one of those times I should step on his wounds and push him away, but how can I when I can hear my own heart splintering to tiny pieces?
“You owe me a fucking life, Mist. This isn’t even the beginning of paying me back.”
“What do you want from me?”