Page 92 of Filthy Love

She’d been ruined a long time ago.

It was Hawk or no one.

******

“I don’t get why we gotta watch this shit again,” Hawk could see Gia had a six-page speech already on deck to tell his dumb motherfucking face just why they were on her couch about to watch episode four of a show she was fanatical about, and he thought was one step up from pig shit coating his boots.

So, he went on quick, bone tired from all the million miles she’d made him walk today in his biker boots while she’d cooed in store after store. No fucker would believe he’d spent all day looking at baby clothes. Him, the fucking MC pain giver. He’d rather Lawless pluck out his eyeballs than go back there again. “But If I gotta, then get your ass over this side and lie on top of me, little bit.”

There were no other words for it other than he watched her eyes light up and her face dissolve into a shy smile. Fuck, he loved that look on her as she kneel-walked her petite self over the cushions and situated across his chest while she pressed un-pause on the DVR and the crap he said he hated started to play. Maybe he was interested to see what was gonna happen. He was four fucking episodes deep now.

Air expelled his lungs. Contentment like nothing he’d felt before swamped him.

He needed her weight on top of him.

And the way she burrowed in like a rabbit? Too fucking good.

He got hard in a second.

This feeling wasn’t new.

It wasn't instant love some sappy shit Hallmark would write about. It was blow his heart to smithereens and watch him die on the floor kind of love. It belted an unchangeable myriad of sensations inside Hawk and from that day on he was changed.

Oh, still fucking deranged as they come.

But in love.

He loved a little bit of a thing with every piece of his fucked-up self.

He acknowledged it. Ignored it. Hungered for it. Obsessed over it. Berated himself about it.

He jerked off so much to that one, first glance over the years he almost wed his left hand.

From what he understood, love was crazy, and he was already halfway to madness as it was. Some called him a sociopath because he liked hurting people who had done wrong. They talked and said his stomach was stronger than a lead balloon for the violence he exacted, and they'd be right.

Nothing much turned Hawk's stomach.

Except, seeing Gia smile at a man that wasn't him.

Except watching that man place a hand on her.

That prim and proper cocksuckerLeowith his groomed hair and designer glasses carrying his goddamn leather satchel like a dickhead had lived on borrowed time for weeks and hadn’t known it, He’d earned Hawk’s hate, all for knocking on Gia's door and getting himself invited inside.

Now he couldn’t wait to get her to Colorado out of the way.

“Am I too heavy?” She asked bringing his head back to the present and away from the murder shack back home. Pity. He was two deaths in with thatLeofucker at that point.

“Nope. I’ve carried carpets heavier.” He told her, and Gia laughed poking his ribs.

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, little bit.”

A few minutes went by.

Trailing his fingers along her spine he got lost in the sensation and every time she did that little snuggle-wriggle.

Fucking tortured heaven.

---