Hawk's Haven (18 page)

"I don't push you away," she denied hotly.

"Not physically. You think that you have to give up your precious independence to make a commitment. They're not mutually exclusive."

"I know."

"Prove it. Say you'll marry me."

Marry?  That was one mighty big leap from make a commitment to let's get married.  "Couldn't we go steady first?"

"See!" he grunted out. "You can't even be serious."

Gillian slid off his lap into the cushion beside him. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Did it ever occur to you that I'm trying to protect you?"

He nodded. "I might have bought that at one time. But I spoke to your father and the one thing he didn't do was threaten me. Now, if he’d something to use, he would have played his hand today."

"Don't let his poker face fool you, Hawk."

"If you don't want to marry me, say so. But don't make an excuse that you're doing it for me because, quite honestly, I don't want your help."

A knot formed in her stomach. She loved him. She’d no doubts about that, but her life had been spinning out of control for the last six months. She needed to get her own head together before she would be any good for him. "It's not that I don't want to marry you. I'm just not ready yet. Can't you understand that?"

Hawk tipped his head. Perhaps he did understand, more than he wanted to. She was young and she’d lived her entire life like a marionette with Judge Hughes pulling the strings. Did she imagine that life with him would be more of the same? Admittedly, he was used to being in charge in his professional life. That didn't mean that he was incapable of compromise in his personal life.

He rose from the sofa and gazed down at her. "I'm not looking to run your life, just share it."

Judging by her questioning expression, she didn't quite believe him. Obviously, he was going to have to prove himself to her.

She tugged on the tie at his neck and slid it off. "Turn around."

"Huh?"

She made a circular motion with her finger. He turned his back to her but glanced over his shoulder.

"Let's see how much control you're willing to give up.” She pulled his arms behind and bound his wrists with the silk tie. When she finished, she turned him back to face her.

"What are you planning?"

She pushed him onto the sofa. "Can't you figure it out?"

"With my hands tied?"

"You won't need them.” She straddled her knees across his lap and sat back on his thighs. The jacket slipped from her shoulders.

"How do you plan to get my shirt off?"

"I don't need to.” One by one she opened the buttons. Pushing the two pieces of fabric aside, she splayed her fingers over the expanse of his chest, brushing his nipples with her thumbs.

He knew she was trying to distract him. For the moment she felt too damn good to argue with. "You'd enjoy this more if you untied my hands."

"I'm having fun playing by myself.” She caressed his hot flesh, peppered his cheek and neck with kisses and generally set out to torture him.

He tugged at the silk binding until it came loose but he still kept his hand behind him. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to hold back and let her remain in control. "You'd have even more fun if you let me play too."

She smiled and worked her fingers down the center of his torso, lingering at his navel. A groan vibrated in his chest. For someone who had only recently acquired this new past time of making love she’d an instinct for the finer points.

"How are you doing?"

"I'll survive," he said, but he wasn't sure how long he would last if she kept twisting against him with her deliberately provocative movements. 

She leaned back for a second to shift position but it gave him a momentary advantage. He took her breast in his mouth and laved the rosy tip.

"I didn't say you could do that."

He raised his head. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Hell, no.” She arched her back as he treated the other breast to the same careful attention.

Gillian let out a long sigh. She wanted to feel him above her, inside her. So much for being in charge. She’d no control where Hawk was concerned. He probably knew it too, which would explain why he didn't stop her when she started this little seduction to distract him.

"Are you sure you don't want to untie me. You'd be amazed at what I can do with my hands."

A shiver of anticipation danced along her spine. "Are you offering me a bribe?"

"Are you bribable?"

"Let's just say I'm persuadable if you find the right incentive.” She rested her elbows on his shoulders and wiggled in his lap. Evidence of his desire pressed against her and the barrier of clothes became an unbearable torment.

"Does it involve a part of your body?"

"Yes."

"I'll find it."

His confidence bordered on arrogance. However, his ability to arouse her had never been in question. She reached behind him to loosen the knot only to find that he’d already worked his hands free. "You cheated."

"Did not. I let you stay in control the whole time."

I let you stay in control
. As if the choice had been his rather than hers. The words played over in her mind. Before she could ponder the implication, he flipped her onto her back on the sofa.

After making quick work of the rest of his clothes, he stretched out next to her. Slowly, as if he’d all the time in the world, he explored every nuance of her body. "Let me know when I've found the right spot."

First with his fingers, then with his mouth, he touched, tasted and teased until she was writhing beneath him.  Her doubts faded into obscurity. She needed him. Only he could give her that feeling of fulfillment. She locked her arms and legs around him, sighing when he filled her.

Gillian was unaware of anything but the delightful tremors running through her. She matched her rhythm to his on pure instinct. Their bodies moved in sync, harder, and faster. When she was sure she could take no more, Hawk brought her to a climax, an orgasm so explosive she cried out his name.

Aftershocks still pulsed through her long after he’d given in to his own release. Intense was the only word she could think of to describe their lovemaking. Intense...and frightening. How could she expect to maintain a shred of independence when she’d such an obsessive need for him? He cradled her in his arms possessively. Although Hawk had found a subtle and admittedly pleasurable way to get his way with her, it was still a form of control.  

"I love you," he whispered against her ear.

"I love you too," she said. She couldn't lie even though the admission had given him even more power over her.

Chapter
Sixteen

Gillian dropped the bag of groceries on the counter and glanced at the clock. Forty five minutes left. Why had she agreed to this?  Hawk was bringing home one of his colleagues for dinner. Although he’d told her to go to the gourmet shop around the corner, her pride wouldn't allow her to. She refused to feed the rumor that she was a useless society princess, incapable of making more than reservations for dinner.

Shrimp cooked up quickly and usually made a good impression. Unless your guest has an allergic reaction. Anxiety ran through her. Come on Gillian. You've been entertaining guests your entire life.

She peeled the shrimp and set it aside. Knowing that water would never boil if she watched, she filled the spaghetti pot and set it on a medium flame, then went to take a shower. Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed and back in the kitchen, ready to cook.

Until Hawk suggested bringing home a friend, she never realized how exclusive their lives had become. Her own friends had deserted her long ago and she didn't miss them. Tears streamed down her cheeks, not caused by the loss of a few snobbish pals, but a fresh Vidalia onion.

She heard the front door open, but her shrimp was at a crucial stage. The butter could burn if she left now. She looked at her bare feet and sighed. So much for making a good impression.

"Gillian," Hawk called out.

"Just a minute.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. The aroma of sautéing garlic filled the room and probably the entire condo.  She hoped his friend liked Italian food.

Hawk entered the kitchen. A three piece suit, once the mainstay of his wardrobe, looked strange on him today. He smiled and her heart fluttered.

"So, you decided to go it alone," he noted of her cooking.

"I wouldn't want your friends to talk about me."

"Princess, if they're under ninety and have a pulse, they're gonna talk about you.” He slipped his arms around her waist from behind and peered over her shoulder.

The shrimp turned a deep shade of pink. She switched off the burner and put a lid on the skillet. "So, who did you bring home?" she whispered. Before she’d gone away to college, she’d spent a great deal of time around the courthouse and had met many of the attorneys. "Anyone I know?"

"Yes," he said simply, but didn't elaborate.

"Am I supposed to guess?"

"No.” His arm muscles flexed, almost unperceptively, but she noticed. "Aaron's here."

"What?" she barely managed to get out. When had her father been elevated to the level of friend? The same man, who only last week would have, without conscience, tried to ruin Hawk's career. "How could you do this?"

"He wants to talk to you."

She turned in the circle of his arms and rested her head on his chest. "I'm not ready."

"Yes you are.” His hand, strong and soothing as he stroked her back, calmed her initial fears.

"I'm not going back home, no matter what he says."

"If I thought there was any chance of that, he wouldn't be here now.” His voice was certain and his gaze unwavering. Two signs that he was less sure of her than his words boasted. "Now, show me those upper class manners of yours and go out there and greet your guest."

"I still wish you had warned me first. I would have saved myself the trouble and made hot-dogs."

Gillian exited the kitchen, propelled by Hawk's hand in the small of her back. She fought the pressure, digging her heels in several times to stall. The amusing game came to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of Aaron in the living room.

"Hello, Gillian."

"Father.” She noted the manila envelope in his hands and knew what he wanted to talk about. No one had ever accused the judge of subtlety.  "I guess you didn't like the book."

Aaron pointed to the sofa. "Could we sit down?"

"I'll go check the pasta,” Hawk offered.

"No," she said fiercely, but he deserted her anyway. She caught her breath and lowered herself into the leather wing back chair. "So, this is your little meeting. What's the subject?"

He placed the envelope on the coffee table and sat across from her. "This."

"I've already read it. Do you intend to dispute it?"

"No. Only fill in the parts that are missing. You don't remember when your mother left, do you?"

If he expected her to take a nostalgic stroll down memory lane, then he’d wasted the gas driving over here. He couldn't recall the truth if it jumped up and bit him. Too many lies had lined the road. "You mean, when you paid her to disappear?"

He winced at her cold statement of fact. "That came much later. When we were first divorced, you lived with your mother."

That did catch her off guard. She closed her eyes, but she’d no recollection of her mother at all, let alone living with her.

Aaron leaned back in the sofa. "You used to spend weekends with me. Every Sunday night, when it was time to go back to your mother, you would cry inconsolably. I began to get suspicious. It's not a natural reaction."

Gillian tried to quell the feeling of doubt gnawing at the back of her conscious mind. Why did the haunting image of a frightened child huddled in darkness refuse to be suppressed? Her father had lied to her for twenty years. How could she trust anything he said now?

"I hired a private investigator to see what was going on. Your mother had a lot of problems, but she refused to get help. I warned her to straighten out or I would sue for custody of you."

She felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Her mind shrieked at him to stop, but somewhere, deep in her heart, she knew he wasn't lying this time, however much she wanted to believe he was.

"One night she went out and left you at home, alone. You were only three years old, alone for six hours. The neighbors called the authorities after they noticed your non-stop screams. The police found you locked in a closet, with an empty bottle and one tattered old doll. Yes, I paid her to disappear after that, because it was the easiest and least traumatic way to end your pain."

"Why don't I remember any of this?" she asked, her voice a shaky whisper.

"It's not unusual since you were so young."

“But she wanted to see me. Maybe she’d changed.”