Page 61 of Restless Hawke

“We’re supposed to meet Savage, Ken, and Cass in the lobby in ten minutes. Or have you completely forgotten?”

He mutters, “shit” under his breath.

Oh, he definitely did.

Though I can’t blame him for being distracted. I certainly was from my original mission in coming here as soon as he touched me down in the lobby.

I glance up at him as he finally allows his gaze to return to mine, an apology written in it. “I’ll meet you down there.”

Bishop huffs. “If you’re not down in five minutes, I’m coming back for you.”

She lets the door close behind her and, as soon as it clicks, Coen sags, releasing a long, heavy sigh.

“Shit. I am so sorry about that…”

He’s apologizing to me? After everything I’ve done to him?

I’m not entirely sure what changed or how we went from hate-fucking to him protecting me from embarrassment and now apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault in the least.

That woman seemed equally appalled and amused at our situation in a way that only makes sense if she’s close with Coen.

“Who was she?”

He pulls back, giving me an almost annoyed look. “For all intents and purposes, my babysitter while I’m home.”

I raise a brow at him. “You need a babysitter?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to ask, if the look he tosses at me is any indication.

He shifts his hips back, his cock slipping from inside me with a groan from him and a wince from me at the sudden loss. “It’s a long fucking story I don’t have time to tell right now, nor would I even if I did.” Taking a step back, he shoves his hand through his hair, mussing up the locks that are already in disarray from my hands. He tucks his wet cock back into his pants, zips them, and rebuckles his belt. “Stay right there.”

Where the hell else am I going to go when I’m sprawled across the bar with his cum filling me, my body still a quivering mess…

Although, I suppose there are worse places to be.

Though, maybe not ones as embarrassing as being caught literally pants down and legs spread with a dick buried in you by a total stranger.

Coen stalks over to the sink at the far end of the bar, wets a hand towel, and brings it over to me, sliding right between my legs where he just was and pressing it to my core.

It makes me shiver, despite the warmth of the water.

“Believe me, I would much rather be cleaning you up and getting you dirty again in the shower right now.” Sincerity laces his words. “But I can’t miss this meeting.”

I swallow thickly and nod as he gently cleans me in a way I wouldn’t have expected from a man who seemed so intent on doing damage only a short time ago.

When he pulls his hand away, his eyes lock with mine, and he bends down, kissing me long and slow. His tongue glides along the seam of my lips until I open for him and allow it to tangle with my own. One of those throaty groans of his curls through him, and when he tugs his mouth from mine, there is regret in his gaze, along with that glimmer of something dark and dangerous.

“I have to say, the thought of you walking around the rest of the day with my cum dripping out of you is pretty much the highlight of my existence up until now.”

Hell.

That shouldn’t be hot.

Right?

I shiver and shift off the bar, my dress falling back into place, and he’s so close, it doesn’t take more than a millisecond before our entire bodies are pressed together again. “What makes you think I won’t leave here immediately and go shower?”

He raises a brow, then reaches up and grips my chin, tilting my face to his, that intensity returning. “Because you want it there as much as I do.”