Page 19 of Restless Hawke

I glide my tongue along the seam of her lips until she finally opens for me, and the sweet, spicy burn of her bourbon meets the smokiness of the scotch I just drank.

She hums her approval, and the sound goes straight to my cock, making it twitch in the confines of my pants. Begging for her to make it again when I’m inside her and can feel what her cunt does when that fucking sound comes out.

I tighten my grip on her waist, digging my fingers against her lower back, and she presses her free hand to my chest, then pulls back, her tongue sliding out over her lips. “You’re right. That is good.”

Good?

More like staggering…

I watch her casually lift her glass to her bright-red lips and take another sip, her grin visible through the crystal.

She’s enjoying toying with mefartoo much.

Fuck, this woman is dangerous.

That night at the bar, I should have walked away.

Even lingering after the game for a drink at the central bar risked someone identifying me and sending word to one of the Hawkes and their many spies. But as soon as I saw her sitting there, that vibrant-green dress called to me like a fucking siren on the sea.

It didn’t matter that I thought she was a professional, that bringing her up to my room after I had just won at the tables was the perfect way to end up in a really bad situation.

None of it mattered once I saw her.

Nor does the fact that she played me for a fool, that I let her get under my skin in a way no other player has at that table.

Right now, all I want is her under me, or over me, or in front of me.

However she wants it.

I’ll take anything she’ll give me.

She eyes me, watching expectantly for me to make another move as she sips at her drink. Her tongue glides along her lips, like she’s savoring every last drop of the sweet liquor, when all I can think about is savoringher.

“Stay with me tonight.”

Her brows rise slowly, as if my request is unexpected, but I don’t know how it could be when I’m not exactly hiding the evidence of what I want from her. Nor has she been particularly shy about her intentions with me, either.

Though, it could all be part of the game she’s playing.

Given what she’s already managed, she’s very talented at getting under someone’s skin, but even knowing that, I still can’t bring myself to regret asking.

Those perfect breasts rise and fall rapidly, barely contained in the confines of her dress. Another carefully planned distraction for all the men at that tournament table—including me. “You know this is a terrible idea.”

I nod slowly, watching her otherwise stormy eyes reflect the beautiful lights from the crystal chandelier hanging in the suite. “I know you’re a dangerous woman, Allegra. I knew it the moment I saw you in Atlantic City, and you confirmed it when you walked into that tournament today. But the scary thing is, I don’t fucking care, at least not for tonight.”

She smirks, running a finger down my chest and stopping at my belt. “What about tomorrow?”

My cock aches with her touch so close. My hands itch to have her writhing and wanting the way I am.

“I’m not playing you at the table tomorrow.” I trail a fingertip down her bare arm, making her shiver. “I have other games in mind.”

A pink blush spreads up her neck and across her cheeks, and she shifts, pressing her stomach against my cock in a way that has me biting back a groan. “Oh, I bet you do, Mr. Hawke.”

I grin at the formality. “Coen, please.”

Those dark brows of hers rise. “A very interesting name…”

“Is it?”