Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(42)

“Ooh, the first pitch!” Her excitement matches that of the crowd as a roar goes up all around us. Our seats are pretty awesome—one of the few perks of being in a chair is the seating at places like this. Although, if it were an option, I would have her down in the first row, right behind the net, so she could experience having a fast ball flying right at her—it’s the closest she’ll ever get to being on the field.

For me, the exhilaration of being part of the game was only ever matched by being in the ring. I’m sure a lot of that had to do with the fact that I did it with my dad. I spent every possible minute with him at the gym when he was training. He would put me in the ring and “spar” with me, letting me believe I was actually able to put him down with my eight-year-old punch. It wasn’t until after his death that I realized what being in the ring really meant to me. Mom tried to keep me out of competition—and she did, I never fought again—but she couldn’t keep me from the gym and the bags. It was my tie to my dad, and there was no way she was taking that from me.

Only the accident could do that.

Dani slides her hand over mine. “Hey, you all right?” She’s staring at me, concern in her blue eyes.

“Yeah, just thinking about when I used to play. That’s all.”

She frowns and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. Is this too hard, being here? We can go.”

“Fuck no, we aren’t leaving. There are a lot of things I’ve had to deal with not being able to do anymore. This is just part of the deal.”



He sounds sincere, but the sadness in his eyes when he watches the field give him away. This is hard for him in a way I can never even begin to understand. Even after three years, he’s still coming to terms with what happened, what he lost, and things like this are going to continue to mess with him emotionally.

What the fuck do I do?

I don’t know how to handle this “feelings” shit. Dates, in and of themselves, aren’t a typical occurrence for me. Usually, it's meet someone at bar, go somewhere to fuck, repeat. Maybe I should have stressed to Savage how out of my element I am here. I don’t want him thinking I don’t care, but I have no fucking clue what to say right now.

Returning my attention to the field, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “More women should come to baseball games. The tight white pants are really doing it for me. I don’t think they know what they’re missing.”

His laugh is music to my ears. He reaches over and cups my cheek, turning me to look at him. “Have I told you how much I love that you have no filter?”

I freeze and try to school my features.

Love?

Holy hell.

My mind tells me to run screaming but I try to use logic.

It’s just a phrase. Relax.

He’s not saying he loves you.

Deep breaths.

I manage to plaster a smile on my face before he leans in to kiss me. When our lips meet, I remember why I decided to show up at his club last weekend. The electricity between us is palpable and I melt when his tongue slides along my bottom lip. The memory of our ride here and his expert hands has me squirming for the second time since we sat down.

How Savage can affect me like this is a mystery. No man has been able to hold my attention for this long, certainly not without sex. Despite my mother and Nora’s best efforts, they have been unable to get me to want anything more than a good bang. Maybe my logic for avoiding commitment is flawed, but when my dad died, my mom fell apart, and I was left caring for Nora while mom spent weeks on end in bed. I can’t say I blame her. My father was an amazing man, father, and husband. She didn’t know how to function without him.

I can’t imagine loving someone that much. I can’t say I’ve even been with anyone I remotely missed when we weren’t together—unless it was missing the orgasms they gave me. But Savage has me second-guessing my stance.

His tongue tangles with mine and a thousand ideas of how we can make use of the five-hour drive back flash through my mind. Images of me straddling him and riding him until his head explodes have me gasping against his mouth.

He pulls away and his eyebrow quirks up. “Dani, we’re in public, remember?”

A cheer from the crowd reminds me we are very much in public. I need to keep my libido in check, at least for the time being.

I glare at him for his chastisement. He knew what he was doing when he kissed me. He knows exactly what he does to me. He’s been doing it since the moment we met. This week has been no exception. Even though we’ve only seen each other once, the memory of the multiple orgasms he gave me on the couch while we were “watching” NCIS is still very fresh in my mind.

God, it had to be at least five times.

I clench my thighs together against my pulsing clit at the memory and grin to myself like a fucking idiot.

He is so damn talented with his mouth, I swear, it’s like a drug and I’m already addicted to this man.

It’s not just the sexual attraction either—if that was it, the fact he hasn’t fucked me or barely let me touch him would have sent me running, again—he’s generous, caring, and makes me laugh. Nora was right, although I refuse to admit it to her.

At dinner on Sunday, Nora called me out in front of our mom about me spending the night at Savage’s the night before. I don’t remember her seeing me at the club, but then again, I don’t remember a whole lot considering the amount I drank. Apparently, being carried out completely passed out did not go unnoticed by my little sister.