And too dangerous to ignore.
Hawk knew he shouldn’t be here. Not in his current mood. But he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn here as he was to his own sanctuary, his little private place on the island back home. And he wasn’t quite sure why.
His island getaway off Florida was perfect when he felt like this—a little wild, a little melancholy, the need to connect to nature in its most natural setting, without battles and strategy planned ahead by humans. He could sit for hours playing with his fishing nets and going out to sea pretending to be Captain Ahab or the Old Man. Hours and hours of just sitting there enjoying the nothingness of contemplation, his mind at rest.
But he had a fierce need tonight, after two days of going to battle for…nothing. He had never fought for a side he didn’t choose before, nor had he ever killed just for the sake of killing. It had left a hole inside him, one that seemed to be tearing wider. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Amber in her kitchen was on his mind.
He didn’t want to talk to her on the phone or on the instant message program; he wanted to see her. So he had asked Dilaver to drop him off here when they were heading back into town.
“Doing your own celebration, Hawk, eh?” Dilaver had chuckled with a wink.
Hawk didn’t feel the need to point out that there was nothing for him to celebrate. The only good thing he had done on this trip was to save that widow and her daughter, who had been hiding under the kitchen sink, from being used by the bastards. No one had dared pick up his challenge of a fight, not when they’d seen Dilaver warningly smack the young thug who had carelessly shrugged off the deaths of two of their gang. He had hoped for some outlet to the rage inside.
Worse, after that night, they had gone off to raid a rival encampment in a small village town, one not endorsed by the KLA. Dilaver was, after all, one of the KLA’s own, and those illegal weapons Hawk had seen went right into their hands. That was what he was fighting for, Hawk told himself—to get hold of the one weapon that must not fall into enemy hands.
The battle had been bloody. As he was with Dilaver most of the time, Hawk had to be part of the fighting in a real way. The other side was no better than this side, he had told himself. But he couldn’t help thinking what if it happened to be his SEAL brothers, and he was still undercover? What would he do then? Such thoughts were dangerous in the heat of battle, and he had cut them off almost as soon as they surfaced and had gone into combat mode.
At the end of the day, Dilaver had captured his enemies and as a warning, chopped everyone’s middle finger off. And that was it. That was the fucking point of the battle—to chop off everyone’s middle finger.
Driving back into town, with all the noisy aftermath of men high on adrenaline, all Hawk could think about was Amber and hamburgers. He wasn’t a man who questioned his own private needs. He knew where to find both, and he went for them.
And she had been in the kitchen, looking so damn good, he had wanted to cross the room and take her on the kitchen table right then and there. There were smudges of flour on her nose and chin; her fingers looked sexily edible as he watched her knead and roll dough, a little frown on her forehead as if she were thinking unpleasant thoughts.
Something dark and wanting arose in him. The feeling fed that hole inside, a fire in his gut. His whole focus was on the woman and he had to concentrate hard on what she was saying because there was a roar in his head drowning out all superfluous noise except for what his body and mind hungered for.
Here was a woman who wasn’t captured, or underage, or begging for help. Here was someone who had cried outside the way he had cried inside at the sight of those girls being gang-raped. Here was someone he’d had to talk out ofdoingsomething that he had wanted to do for the last few months; he couldn’t forget the sight of her dangling on the side of the building with that weapon aimed at the crowd of men. There had been just enough light to see her expression as she willed herself to pull the trigger, one so fierce and sorrowful that he had wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, as he needed to be held and be comforted inside. Because he had understood what she was feeling and going through.
Food. She thought that was what he wanted. He waited till she placed the dishes on the table, then grabbed her by the arm. She landed on his lap without resistance. He began devouring her lips.
She was warm and soft, her lips opening willingly for his exploration. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her. He couldn’t get enough, putting his hand behind her neck and pulling her even closer.
He reached up with his other hand, caressing her jawline, her neck, then downward, until he cupped her breast. She jerked forward, a soft sound in her throat, as he ran a thumb across the thin material covering her nipple. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He pulled at the shirt impatiently, trying to find an opening to get what he wanted.
Her hands stopped his progress. “Hawk,” she whispered. “People can come into my work kitchen.”
“I don’t care. I want you now. Here, on this table. Upstairs. Somewhere, Amber. Take your pick.” His hand was still on her breast and he used his thumb to his advantage. He didn’t wait for her answer. Standing up with her in his arms, he started heading for the door that led upstairs. “You know, this is getting to be a habit. At least you’re conscious this time.”
Her beautiful eyes narrowed. “I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Afterward,” he said.
“Afterward,” she agreed.
13
A thousand excuses to say no melted in theheat of Hawk’s gaze. There was a certain look a man gave that could make a woman weak in the knees. Determined. Focused. Undressing. The eyes of a predator on what was his to take. And plenty of time to do it. Hawk had that look in his eyes. A tingle of anticipation ran down Amber’s spine at the thought of the intent behind that gaze.
There was something implacable in the way he held her in his arms, as if he had every right to do as he wanted. Each step echoed the drumbeat of her heart, up the stairs, through the small landing, past her kitchen, inexorably toward her bedroom door. He didn’t pause, his gaze holding hers captive, moving so nimbly as if she only weighed fifteen instead of a hundred and fifteen pounds, until he reached his goal. He nudged it open with a foot.
Amber knew that once he stepped through the doorway, it would be too late to say no. And she should, she really should. A thousand excuses and none of them popped up on her lips as she stared into his golden eyes…thatlookbanishing every one of them to some other place in her mind, replacing them with unspoken promises that quickened her breath.
Hawk walked into her bedroom. Kicked the door shut.
And she was right. There was no more time to think as his head dipped down and he started kissing her immediately. She had never been kissed this way before, seemingly in midair, her head tucked against a man’s heart as his lips locked on hers ferociously. Not releasing her lips, he slowly lowered her back onto her feet, her body sliding against his hard one, and she found her arms still around his neck as she stood on tiptoe. She gasped as his hands cupped her buttocks and molded them possessively, sexually. His fingers went between the cheeks, going lower, seeking intimately. She heard a distinct tear. His fingers were immediately inside her. Moving. Sliding. Going to the next target.
Amber thought she was weak in the knees before. She was wrong. She was under siege. Her legs parted helplessly and she lost her already precarious footing. He ignored her as she tried to free her lips, stumbling about to find her balance. It only gave him easier access to what he wanted and she gasped again as his other hand moved to a frontal attack, tearing her pants apart like a piece of rag.
“I like a woman who doesn’t wear underwear,” he said, his voice low and seductive, as he started walking her backward.
