Page 32 of Out of Reach
Hawk
When the outing was over and the group reached the house, Hawk was drained from the day of sun and water. He would have liked nothing more than to head upstairs for a nap, but, of course, Prescott had another lavish meal planned. So, Hawk and Jude showered and changed before meeting up with the others again in the dining room, both of them keeping a good several feet between them after the moment they’d shared on the yacht. Having Jude’s hands sliding all over him and seeing the way he was taking in every inch of Hawk’s body…it had been all Hawk could do not to grab him and kiss him. He’d sprung wood right there on the deck of the yacht where anyone could see. His blood continued to buzz in his veins hours after the encounter.
“Lizzy has a headache and won’t be coming down,” Sam announced as the help began serving dinner.
“Too much sun,” Gabriel surmised.
“That and vodka,” someone else said, and a ripple of laughter went around the table. Eliza had been pretty sloshed by the time they’d docked.
“Prescott let us sit together,” Hawk murmured to Jude under the din of chatter.
Jude smiled. “He was just posturing before. He doesn’t care that I’m seeing someone new.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Hawk said. Prescott was putting on a magnanimous show for Jude.
Jude shrugged. “He doesn’t look at relationships the same way most people do.”
No, he looks at them like an obsession. He wants to own you, Jude.
After the meal, Hawk stood on the patio, enjoying the darkness and the scent of the ocean while Jude remained inside chatting. He stiffened when he heard footsteps behind him.
“I get the feeling you don’t trust me.”
Recognizing Prescott’s obnoxious voice, Hawk forced his shoulders to relax.
“I don’t.” He didn’t take his eyes off the darkness beyond.
Prescott chuckled. “I like your honesty. It would be unwise to trust anyone you don’t know well.” Hawk heard a click and glanced over to see Prescott’s face illuminated by the small flame of a cigarette lighter as he took a couple of puffs on a cigar. “I learned that early on in life. Actually, my uncles made sure I learned it.” His smile was brief and bitter. “You probably think I took advantage of Jude. That I have a fetish for beautiful young men. Perhaps you think that I wasn’t good to him, but I assure you that wasn’t the case.”
“If you hadn’t been good to him, you wouldn’t be standing here still breathing,” Hawk said, holding Prescott’s gaze for a long moment before turning back to the darkness.
Prescott blew a few smoke rings before saying casually, “I can’t decide if you’re brave or stupid.”
“Just honest,” Hawk said. “If you really want to know what I think, I think you’re bent out of shape because Jude walked out on you. I imagine you aren’t used to your possessions doing that.”
“The fact that I let him shows how much I care about him,” Prescott said, not bothering to deny that he believed he owned Jude.
“You put a hit out on him.”
Prescott made a derisive motion of his hand. “If that had been legitimate, Jude would be dead.”
“And so would you.”
Prescott rolled his eyes. “You’ve made that point already. I get it. You’d kill me if you could get away with it. I doubt you could, though. I have a lot of bodyguards.”
“I imagine a bit of poison on the tips of your cigars would do the trick,” Hawk said, watching with satisfaction as Prescott pulled the cigar from his mouth a little too quickly to be casual.
Hawk laughed, and Prescott’s eyes narrowed.
“Very funny.” He continued smoking.
Ahead in their petty game of one-upmanship, Hawk couldn’t resist saying, “You can’t blame Jude for choosing a younger guy.”
Prescott’s nostrils flared. “I assure you, Jude had no complaints about my performance in the bedroom.” Stubbing out his cigar on the brick wall, Prescott turned on his heel and walked back into the house.
When Jude sought Hawk out fifteen minutes later, Hawk was still berating himself for having reacted so strongly to Prescott’s bullshit.
“What did you do to your hand?” Jude asked, examining Hawk’s bloody knuckles.