Brit held up the bottle. “Can I pour you some?”
The intensity rolling off him had her biting back a groan, and she wondered if he recognized her from the other night. Even though black hoodies are commonplace, she wasn’t dealing with any ordinary Joe.
“Hit me,” he said, his voice void of emotion.
Does he know? Is he angry ‘cause I blew him off when he asked me to dinner?
She poured the whiskey. He took the shot glass from her, the electricity in his heated touch sending sparks flying through her.Then, he tossed back the liquid, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.
Her thoughts jumped to sexier times. His mouth on hers. His arms holding her prisoner against his strapping, naked body. His hardness rooted deep inside her.
Stifling a moan, she asked if he wanted another shot. He did not.
Hawk opened the slider as Addison entered the kitchen.
“Perfect timing,” Hawk said.
She beamed at him. “Thank you for making dinner.”
Brit turned off the oven, grabbed a dish towel, and extracted one of the potatoes. To test its hotness, she touched it.
“Ow.”
Rebel collected her hand, ran it under cold water. While Hawk and Addison were busy plating the food, he gently dried her hand.
Mesmerized by his stunning bright eyes, she couldn’t tear herself away. Everything went into slow motion, yet her pulse was racing in triple time. He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed her burned fingers. Slowly, one at a time.
“Better?” he murmured.
More than anything, she wanted to kiss him. Press her lips to his, burrow her hands in his beautiful head of hair, and surrender to the passion.
“What happened?” Addison asked, peeking between them.
“The potatoes are hot,” she said, her attention still glued on Rebel. “Veryhot.”
She tugged her hand away, hated severing their connection. Hated that their few special seconds were over too soon.
They sat around the table. Addison toasted to her sister’s surprise visit which elicited a growl from Rebel.
Hawk raised his glass. “Congrats, my brother. I love you.”
After they clinked glasses, Brit asked, “What are we celebrating?”
“Rebel’s thinking of buying another hotel,” Hawk replied, though he winked at Rebel.
“I am?” Rebel blurted, and Addison laughed.
Brit had no idea what they were talking about and she didn’t much care. Her tummy had started aching. A typical reaction to a must-have conversation filled with tension and drama.
After dinner, Brit helped Addison clear the table.
Hawk joined them. “Look at him. He’s all alone. Go talk to him, Brit.”
Rebel stood at the family room window, staring out at the night.
Despite her bone-dry mouth, she pulled up alongside him. “Can we talk, privately?”
“You gonna confess your sins, darlin’?”
