Page 39 of Restless Hawke

Some masochistic part of me wanted—no, needed—to know what he would do and how he would react after what amounted to six hours of a cock tease with what I was doing with my hand at his thigh.

The icy glint in his eyes as he approaches me now, weaving through the restaurant toward the back booth where I sit, slices through me, giving me all sorts of second thoughts about my decision to stay.

People always talk about self-sabotage, and the way my body reacts the closer he advances, I’m starting to understand what that phrase really means.

I swallow thickly as he finally stops, eyeing the drink in front of me on the otherwise empty table.

He raises a dark brow over those wintry eyes that were so warm when I saw him in his hotel room a week ago but switched so easily to their current state the moment he saw me at the tournament table today. “Mind if I join you?”

I can’t exactly denyhim.

Not when I chose to stay. Not when I chose to stay specifically forthis—to see how what I did affected him. To witness the reaction from a man who prides himself onneverreacting to anything.

Lifting my drink, I offer him a coy smile, like my fingers weren’t just brushing against his hard cock on the table for hours on end. “Of course.”

Bad idea.

Every part of me knows it, especially those parts that are tingly and throbbing already.

Coen slides into the booth that can easily seat four people, pushing all the way over next to me, until his thigh brushes mine. The heat radiating from him into my bare leg makes me bite back a groan.

He inclines his head toward the menu sitting on the edge of the table. “Did you order yet?”

I nod, just as the waiter returns, having witnessed Coen’s arrival.

Coen motions to the menu and my glass. “I’ll have whatever she’s having—the food and the drink.”

Something tells me he isn’t going to want a pomegranate martini and roasted lamb…

I glance over at him. “How do you know you’re going to like what I ordered?”

He eyes me, those sensual lips of his curling slightly, but that iciness doesn’t leave his gaze. “I trust you.”

Liar.

The truth is, neither of us should trust the other.

This isn’t the world where you make friends.

This is the world where you make enemies.

And while my feelings for the man sitting beside me are certainly becoming more and more complicated, I would never make the mistake of thinking he’s afriend.

That would be very dangerous.

As would giving in to the attraction I have to the man I should keep at arm’s length.

I take a sip of my drink, gulping it down, trying to quell the heat rising in my body, and not just because of his closeness.

Oh no…

Thatlook.

He may be putting on a show right now with the pleasantries, but he is burning mad about what just went down at the table.

The waiter moves away, and Coen takes the opportunity to slide his arm around the back of the booth now that we’re alone, allowing it to brush against my exposed shoulders. That scent of ocean air and waves cocoons me as he leans in and dips his head so his lips feather over my ear. “That was quite a show you put on back there.”

I grin at him. “Thank you.”