Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(13)
“Murder? Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad!”
He’s such a drama queen!
His eyebrow quirks up and the corner of his mouth moves into a sexy half-smirk. “Weren’t you?”
Was I?
Thinking back, maybe I was a bit overzealous in my advocacy on behalf of Nora, but I never would have hurt him. At least, not without his permission. Just thinking about digging my teeth into the side of his neck and shoulder while he pounds into me has me shifting uncomfortably again and chugging half my glass of water.
I take a cleansing breath before I even bother trying to speak again. “Savage, I’m sorry…”
His smile fades and he leans forward, looking me directly in the eye and holding me captive with his blue gaze. “Danika, stop apologizing. I told you, if I was offended by anything you did or said, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”
A flood of relief washes over me.
I nod my understanding but, truthfully, the fact that nothing I have said has offended him is a bit of a mind-fuck. It makes me wonder what it would take to actually insult him and how he got such a thick skin.
The fact that he did research on me is a little disconcerting, too. It’s not that I have anything to hide, but a man like Savage Hawke knowing things about me, things I didn’t divulge, makes me a little shaky. “So, what did you find out in your digging?”
“Well,” he says, setting down his glass and leaning back into his seat, “your father was a cop and died in the line of duty when you were twelve. Now, it’s just you, Nora, and your mother, who lives in Harahan.”
I bet he even knows our social security numbers.
“Stalker, much?” I ask with a smirk. He grins back, and I wish I had brought an extra thong with me tonight. Sitting in wet panties with a throbbing clit is worse than medieval torture. I would much rather be stretched out on a rack right now than sitting across from Savage practically dripping with need. Sometimes, my libido can be such an inconvenient bitch.
“You graduated with your bachelor’s in journalism from Loyola and almost immediately went to work at the Times.”
“All that information is very easy to find. I would have expected a deeper probe from you.”
Savage’s eyes widen slightly and he drops his head back, roaring with laughter. My skin heats, and I bite my tongue to prevent further sexual innuendos from slipping out unbidden.
When he finally recovers, he leans his elbows on the table and locks his gaze with mine. “Oh, Danika, believe me, I always ensure a very deep probing.”
Fuck.
I completely lose it, dropping my face into my hands in a fruitless attempt to hide my beet-red face and bone-deep embarrassment. Savage is something else, that’s for sure. His response only endears him to me while making me even more aware of my constant verbal diarrhea, which only seems to happen around him.
Thankfully, before he can say anything else, our food arrives. I’m able to down the rest of my glass of water while our plates are set on the table.
“Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Hawke?” the waiter asks after refilling our wine glasses.
“No, Michael, thank you.”
Michael disappears and I’m left staring at a plate of fra diavolo with linguine and shrimp piled high. I grab my fork and twist it in the pasta, trying to get a manageable bite so I don’t end up shoveling dangling pasta and spraying red sauce all over myself.
Just as I am about to slide my first bite into my mouth, Savage clears his throat. I look up at him and melt under his wicked grin.
“I hope you like things spicy.”
You have no fucking idea, Savage. No idea.
Our dessert arrives and we both dig in, my hard cock throbbing when she moans at her first bite of tiramisu. She wraps her lips around her fork and pulls it out slowly, her eyes closed and head tilted slightly back. “Oh, my God, this is absolutely amazing.”
She’s doing it intentionally. She has to be. No woman can be this overtly sexual without trying.
I clear my throat and take a sip of water to wet my suddenly parched throat. “I’m glad you like it.”
Dinner has been both exhilarating and excruciating. Every word out of her mouth has me more convinced she’s absofuckinglutely perfect for me. She’s brilliant, sarcastic, funny—even when she isn’t trying to be—and sexy as hell. Watching her lips while she eats and talks is like watching porn two feet in front of me.
The constant hard-on I’ve had for the last two hours will definitely need some attention later, but it’s worth it. Asking Danika to dinner is the best decision I’ve ever made—even if my cock might not currently agree. It’s like I stepped back in time to freshman year of high school when every look, smile, or giggle from a girl had me sporting wood. Under any other circumstances, I might be embarrassed by my body’s reaction to her, but I’m not. I just wish there were a way to control my raging hard-on so I could make it through dessert a bit easier.
Three bottles of wine aren’t helping me keep my desires in check. I’ve barely been able to restrain myself from pulling her onto my lap and letting her ride me right here in Angelo’s. I’ve never been into public sex, but with her, I can’t even imagine the restraint it would require to sit next to her in a car all the way home before getting her naked and plunging into her.