Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(5)

"Well why the f*ck not, Hawk? Don't feed me some bullshit about being a CIA assassin or something, I swear-"

He surges forward and grabs me by the arms. He's so strong. As soon as he touches me, I'm completely in his power. It feels like he could lift me off my feet and it would be as effortless as lifting a feather. I freeze, and stare at him. That intensity is there, stronger than ever. He moves forward, pulls me towards him, and I push on him to stop him.

"You're covered in goop."

He looks down at his chest, lets go of me, and whips off his shirt in a single smooth motion. I gasp in spite of myself, my mouth falling open. Okay, he's big, and he's ripped. I swear his veins have veins, and there's more tattoos than I thought. He's covered in them, intricate patterns that wrap around his whole torso and disappear into the waistband of his jeans. Before I realize what I'm doing, I drag my fingernails over his skin, tracing the patters and outlines in the ink, my heart pounding in my chest. I look up at him and swallow, and tuck my lip under my teeth.

Hawk pushes forward and pulls me against him.

"We can't do this."

"Why not?"

"I'm your stepsister."

"Like I care."

"Tell me why you left?"

He kisses me. Hard.

It's good. I slip my arms around him.

Holy shit, if somebody looks down this alley -say, somebody that saw us chase each other through the crowd-they're going to see Hawk's back and my arms wrapped around him.

Also, my legs wrapped around him. Because I'm up against a brick wall and I just lifted my legs and hooked them around his hips. He bears the weight like nothing and his arms crush me against him. I squeeze back, digging my knees into his sides. I can feel his ribs expanding against me as he breathes. It's like being held by a castle. Slowly, I lower my legs and set my feet on the ground-barely. When he holds me around the waist and stands up straight, my toes barely scape the ground.

"I had to go. I had to."

"You could’ve said something."

"There was so much I wanted to say."

His fingers tickle my side, but more than that, they bunch up the cloth of my top, tugging the hem loose from my jeans. His fingers are warm on my skin as he pulls my shirt loose, and yanks at my belt so hard, it shakes my whole body. I breathe faster, heat spreading through my body as I glance towards the end of the alley and he pops the top button on my jeans and draws the zipper down. I'm not wearing hip huggers, or anything like that. A simple jerk and they slide down to my knees with a soft metallic sound from my belt buckle and the air is hot on my legs, but gooseflesh rises anyway.

His hand moves over my thigh. His palm is rough, calloused from hard work, his touch harder than I remember. His hand touches inside my thigh and I go very quiet as his palm slides up, his fingers moving towards me. He kisses me again as his fingertips trace over my lower lips, heat in my mouth as he presses the fabric against my slit and the wetness soaks through. For a moment I just drink in his scent and his warmth and the soft touch of his lips on mine and then his hand dives into my panties and slips under me, first his fingers and then his palm sliding over my mound, wetting themselves from my arousal. He holds his hand there and presses a little and I feel myself throbbing.

Hawk pulls back and looks me in the face. I'm angry with him, but I give him a tiny nod, a little whisper of permission, and his finger slips inside me slowly, bigger than I thought it would feel, and my hands clench on his shoulders. I want to make a sound, but someone will hear. With all the chatter and carnival noises and shouting and revelry outside the alley someone will still hear my cry of pleasure.

"Fuck that's tight," he growls in my ear, and I feel a weird flutter of pride and smile, and my smile melts into a slack expression of pleasure.

His other hand starts roaming. Through my shirt he cups my breast and squeezes, and his mouth moves to my throat. His lips and tongue are hot and wet and his breath cools the heat on my skin and heats it again and all of a sudden he kneels and tugs my underwear down, keeps his finger inside me and brings his mouth to my *, looking up at me as he buries his face in my mound. When he takes a long, dragging lick, I stifle my cry by covering my mouth with my hand and my eyes dart back and forth from Hawk to the end of the alley and back again as he tastes me.

I can't look anymore. I close my eyes and shudder, my hips rolling in slow, involuntarily motions, riding him. Hawk keeps his eyes on me, staring back at me every time I look down at him. I rub my hand over his head. He cut his hair. He always had such beautiful hair, a lovely sandy blond. Everybody used to joke that he had a girl's hair. They must have made him cut it, that's what they do. I have to cover my mouth again as the movement of his finger inside me sends a spiraling twist of pleasure riding up through my body as cold shocks fall down my legs and curl my toes in my sneakers. I buck against him.

He could f*ck me right now. Spin me around, pin me against the wall and just hammer me. I want it so bad, and he knows I want it. I can't take much more. I want him, I want him, I want him. I've wanted this for so long I can't remember a time when I didn't.

"S-s-somebody might see us," I choke out, struggling as every word wants to become a moan.

"I don't care," he growls, and a second finger slips inside me.

At first it's almost too much. I can't tell him that…