Page 58 of Filthy Love

Her smile became nuclear.

He didn’t mind her hands on him at all. They didn’t evoke memories he’d rather forget.

He liked her hands.

That was the problem. He liked them too much.

He sat with his fists clenched on his thighs and let Gia trim the ends of his hair while she chatted about he didn’t even fucking know since his heart was cranking up to its highest thump level.

When she was standing between his legs, using the comb to straighten out his beard, the teeth catching in knots he rose his eyes and saw her up close.

Fuck. She was pretty.

Perfect and pretty his little bit of a thing.

Needing to fill the space before he did some dumb fuck stuff by grabbing her onto his lap he made his tongue move. “Are you happy to be going to Colorado?”

He heard her hum. He fingers moved through his beard and Hawk struggled not to lean in for a deeper touch.

“I really am. I’ve been in Texas nearly half my life now, but Colorado is where I grew up. It’s weird really. Ambrosio grew up here and loved it, yet he lives there, and I live here and want to be back in Armado.”

He hadn’t thought there’d be a day he wanted a real home for himself. Roots and stability.

Being around Gia for longer than a second gave him terrifying ideas.

Crazy, mental ideas no monster should ever have.

Like he could make a life with her.

And give her all the pretty things she wanted.

He was more of a headcase than he thought if that the derailment his fucked-up thoughts were taking him nowadays just because she’d let him inside her body.

Fucks sake.

He’d screwed up and now he was an addict.

Just like that.

One taste of her pussy and he’d been done for.

But who was he kidding.

He was an obsessed addict long before his mouth got anywhere near between her thighs. Last night only cemented what Hawk knew and that the little bit of a thing was a raw open sore in that place his heart should be.

She owned it.

She ruled it.

For what it was worth. Which wasn’t a lot.

How else could he explain why he was sitting calmly while she sheared him bare.

Hair fell on his chest. The gentle whirring of the clippers vibrated against his chin.

Looking down he had the urge to put his hand to his face and to glue it back on.

He didn’t like feeling exposed.

---