Page 33 of Out of Reach
“Punched the tree,” Hawk said, pulling back his hand.
Frowning, Jude asked, “Why?” When Hawk didn’t answer, he sighed. “Let’s go up to our suite, and I’ll clean it for you.”
Hawk kept his hand hidden while they said their goodnights. Jude went ahead of him up the stairs, and as Hawk made to follow, a hand on his arm stopped him.
“The master suite is being renovated,” Prescott said. “Lizzy and I are sleeping in the room next to yours. It was very quiet last night.” He smiled like a shark. “And I think we both know Jude is anything but quiet in bed. Perhaps you slept on the couch?”
“Why you fucking…” Hawk took a step toward the arrogant man, about to pin him against the wall, when two of Prescott’s men stepped between them.
“It’s all right, gentlemen,” Prescott said. “Mr. Sterling just took a hard hit to his pride. I can forgive that.”
Forcing himself to step away, Hawk climbed the stairs, anger reverberating through his bones.
“What happened?” Jude asked when he saw the look on Hawk’s face.
“Prescott is a fucking asshole.”
“What did he say?”
Hawk shook his head, knowing Prescott’s words would piss off Jude almost as much as they had Hawk. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. “I can’t wait to get out of here tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry the trip hasn’t given you the information you’d hoped to get, but I thought we had a good time today,” Jude said, unbuttoning his shirt.
Hawk’s eyes followed the deft movements of Jude’s fingers. The material parted, and he caught a glimpse of the smooth skin underneath. He’d just spent an afternoon with Jude in bathing trunks that left little to the imagination, but there was something about that parted V of material that made Hawk want to push Jude’s hands away and rip the material off him. Imagining the feel of Jude’s soft skin and the hard muscle underneath had his cock pushing at the zipper of his pants.
“Don’t look at me like that if you aren’t interested,” Jude said.
Dazed with lust that had been building all day, Hawk met his gaze. “What?”
Shrugging out of his shirt, Jude tossed it on the chair, then bent over his suitcase. His opened slacks slid down a few inches, and Hawk’s gaze caught on something.
“You have a tattoo,” he said, reaching for the bit of ink he could see peeking out from under the edge of Jude’s briefs.
Jerking away, Jude turned to face him, letting his pants fall to the floor. “Don’t.”
“You won’t let me see it? What is it, my name?” He smirked.
“You wish, asshole.” After adjusting his underwear so they completely covered the tat, Jude stepped into a pair of sleep pants.
“I thought you didn’t want a tattoo,” Hawk said.
“Things change, Hawk. People change.”
Stepping closer and taking Jude’s face in his hands, Hawk forced him to look him in the eyes. “What did you mean when you questioned my interest?”
Jude’s dark eyes snapped with defiance. “I think I made it clear the other night that I would be willing to let some steam off under the sheets. You didn’t want to.”
“You weren’t being serious. Were you?”
Jude only stared. When Hawk didn’t move, Jude wrenched his face from Hawk’s grip and started for the bed.
“It…wouldn’t be smart for us to—” Hawk tried, even though he wanted to very, very badly.
“Okay,” Jude snapped.
“I mean, with our history—”
“Uh, huh. You’re right,” Jude said lightly.