Chapter Eleven
“I have a surprise for you.” The text from Hawke said.
Aww, man. Everything had been going so well. She’d been working out in Hawke’s gym. In another week, she’d be back in the studio, but for now, she was focused on working with Gelsey and keeping her muscles strong and healthy.
But she was anxious. Her body had been moving through space seven days a week for as long as she could remember. She’d put on her first ballet slippers at the age of three and hadn’t looked back. This injury had taken her away from dance for the first time in twenty years, and her nerves were raw with anticipation. One more week, and she’d be back in the studio working six hours a day. Three more weeks, and she could be back in pointe shoes, preparing for the auditions coming up the next month.
“Not a big fan of your surprises.” She texted back. And she wasn’t. They had a truce when it came to surprises, and they’d been having so much fun. This had been her favorite vacation or summer in as long as she could remember. Hawke seemed to have forgotten to be mad that he’d had to marry for some reason to do with his business, and they’d just been having a good time the last month.
But it couldn’t last.
Her ankle was strong enough that she could walk on the treadmill without pain. She still trained with Gelsey every day except Sunday. And she’d started barre work again for a few hours a day. At night, she and Hawke did something fun, and then they’d come home and he’d fuck her until she couldn’t breathe from the pleasure of it.
She would never say it to him, but she was happy. Maybe for the first time in a long time. Her world was so competitive, and it was always about the next audition or show. This was the first time in years she’d had a chance to breathe, to give her body a chance to relax, and it had been good for her.
Injury aside, her muscles were stronger, and she was sleeping at night. After years of insomnia and relying on large doses of caffeine to get her through the day, she found she didn’t need as much. She’d always been strong, her body a machine made for dance—she’d been told that all of her life by instructors and artistic directors. But now she was also healthy. She ate balanced meals, great ones made by her husband, a man of many talents. Outside of the sex, the cooking might have been her favorite part of being married.
And then there was his family, who managed to stop by often. She’d been away from hers for so long that she’d forgotten what it felt like to have people who cared around. More than once she had to remind herself they were his family and would never really be hers, even if her mom was married to his dad.
But she had to admit that now that she was in the world with real people, she kind of liked it.
Temporarily. She also missed dancing—the classes, being in front of an audience. But for now, she was enjoying this little bit of heaven with Hawke, which was about to be spoiled by one of his surprises.
Ugh.
“This time is different. Come out to the garage.”
“No.”
“I swear on my 1939 Hog you’ll like this one.”
Well, that was serious. He loved that vintage bike more than all the others combined. Motorcycles were his religion, and that bike was about as close to God as it got. Crazy how a few weeks ago she didn’t know a damn thing about motorcycles. She knew enough now she could probably work at one of the dealerships if he needed her to. Not that she would, or he would ever ask. But she loved that he was so passionate about them. And he listened, really listened, and asked her questions about her dance life.
The few dates she had been on, the guys had never seemed interested in her career, only if they could get her in bed. Maybe that’s why he listened—because he knew she was a sure thing where he was concerned.
She laughed.
She grabbed the towel from the chair she’d been using as a makeshift bar.
A few minutes later, she opened the door leading from the house to the garage. “What did you do now?”
He motioned for her to come around to the other side of the truck.
She rolled her eyes but did what he asked.
There was a motorcycle. It was a dark blue with what looked like peacock feathers painted on the gas tank and back fender.
“Wow. That’s gorgeous. I love that color. The feathers look almost real. I love peacocks.”
“I know,” he said, watching her carefully.
“Is this one of the custom orders you guys were working on?”
“Yes,” he said. “Do you want to sit on it? We lowered the wheelbase and narrowed the seat for a woman. Try it out.”
“Oh, I’m all sweaty from working out. I don’t want to mess it up. Your client probably wouldn’t appreciate it. But it’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Did you paint this?”
She reached out and gently touched the fender.
“I did all the custom work on it. One of my special projects.”
She glanced up at him. He was smiling. He didn’t do that often.
“I don’t know who it’s for, but she is lucky. You’re such a wonderful artist. It’s a beautiful piece of art, Hawke. I mean what I said. Your client is going to be so happy with this.”
“Thanks. So you like it?”
“Who wouldn’t? It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s yours.”
What?
“You—uh. No. I mean, I love it. But it’s too much. You— I don’t know how to drive. Do you call it driving a motorcycle?”
“Ride,” he said. “So you don’t like it?” He frowned and crossed his arms against his chest. Damn, those biceps got her every time. And those tattoos.
“I love it. I mean, really love it. Wait. You made me a motorcycle?”
“Modified, but, yes.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’ve never—no one’s—um. This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me. Can I get on it?” He was giving her a motorcycle.
His frown turned into a smile. “Sure.”
She climbed on, like she had so many times onto the back of his. He’d showed her how they worked a couple of times. Last week, he’d sat behind her and let her steer his bike. It was scary as hell, but also thrilling to have control of so much power underneath her.
“Wow.” Unlike on his bike, her feet touched the ground. “It fits me.” Her voice was a little high. She took a breath.
“You’ll have to take a safety course. We give them once a month at the dealership. And get your license. But I thought maybe you could use it to go back and forth to your appointments with your trainer.”
Either Hawke drove her, or she took an Uber or taxi. Taxis in Austin weren’t cheap, but it wasn’t that far from his house to the sports center where she worked out with Gelsey. Hawke usually picked her up when he got off work. Then they talked about their days.
They’d settled into a routine of sorts after that first awkward week. And she didn’t want to admit it, but it didn’t feel so much like pretending anymore.
Stop. You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. You leave in a few weeks and this sexy play date will be over.
“Are you okay?” Hawke interrupted her thoughts.
“You did this for me?” She glanced up at him.
He leaned down and kissed her. Her body shivered from the pleasure. “Yes. For you,” he whispered against her lips. “And you’ll also need this.” He handed her a helmet. It was covered in the same royal blue peacock feathers as the bike, only these looked like they were flying off. At the bottom, it said My Dancer in silver lettering.
“Oh my God. You painted this?”
He nodded.
“Am I yours, Hawke?” She couldn’t believe she’d said it out loud.
“Yes,” he said, and then melted her bones with another kiss. When he pulled away, he brushed a hair from her cheek. “You are mine.”
She put her hand against his chest. “Same.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m glad you like your gift.”
“I do. Can we ride it? Now? I know I have to get my license, but I can practice with you, right?” Her hand went against her chest, her breath tight. Never in her life had her heart been more full. This was a gift from his heart to hers. She wondered if he even understood what he’d done. No one had ever given her a gift like this. Ever.
This man was so dangerous. She blew out a breath and then smiled.
He chuckled. “Yes, Twinkle Toes. We can practice.”
He’d given her a motorcycle.
What did it mean? She didn’t want to think about it too much. She put the helmet on and started the engine the way he’d showed her the week before. Maybe he was just being nice. Maybe the bike was something that was expected, so he could show it off to his family. She wasn’t sure about his reasons, but it had been a gift.
And he’d remembered the one and only time she had said the peacock was her spirit animal, and that this was her favorite color ever. Like the eggs Benedict conversation from a couple of weeks ago—he’d listened. She hadn’t lied. No one had ever done anything like this for her.
He’d called her his.
And I liked it.
More importantly, she thought of him as hers. Not some temporary piece of fun, but someone she was enjoying being with more than she’d ever thought possible. It was more than the sex. They’d become more. She just wasn’t sure what that more was.
He wrapped his hands around her waist, and she leaned into the strength of him for just a few seconds.
Time enough to worry later.
…
Hawke shut the garage door and hung their helmets on the pegs. He’d added an extra one for her.
She’d loved the gift. The sheer joy on her face as she rode it around the circular drive in front of his house a few minutes earlier had him smiling again.
He did that a lot with her around. He kicked off his work boots by the door and walked into the house with his socks on.
“Hey, Twinkle Toes. What do you want for dinner tonight?”
He’d been cooking for them, but he was thinking of ordering in. Or he could make them an omelet. Though she tried, cooking anything more than eggs and bacon was kind of beyond her. And she could whip up a heck of a mean salad. But a man needed more than greens to survive.
She didn’t answer.
“Twinkle Toes?”
He heard water running and followed the sound to his bathroom.
She was naked, bent over the tub.
Fuck, how many times had he thought about fucking her like that?
He came up behind her and slid his hand over her slick heat. She didn’t jump, so she must have known he was there.
“Hey,” she said. “I need you to help me with something.”
“What’s that?” he asked as he pulled her back against him. He shifted his hands to the front of her, one pinching her nipple, the other sliding into her heat, pumping her.
Her breath caught, and she tightened around his finger.
“You know how I get horny every time we ride?”
“Yes,” he said against her ear as he slipped a second finger and increased the pressure.
“I need you to take care of it.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” He nibbled down her neck.
“And, Hawke. It’s been over a month.”
A month? “What’s been a mo—”
“Fuck me, Hawke. Now.”
“I will, but first you have to agree to something.”
She rolled her eyes, and he had to stop himself from grinning at her insolence. “What now?”
“I want you to sleep in my bed every night. No sneaking off to your old room in the middle of the night.” He wanted her near. They didn’t have much time together, and damn if he wasn’t going to fuck her as much as possible until she had to leave.
He didn’t want to think about it.
“You realize you moved my crap into your closet the first night we slept together,” she said. “I kind of thought we already were.”
“Yes, but every once in a while I wake up and you’re in your old room.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to crowd you. I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t want you to get tired of me”
“As if that were possible,” he said. Was she nuts? She had no idea how she affected him.
“You’re my ballerina, and I want you in my bed, in my room. I want to wake up next to you. Deal?”
She eyed him.
“Say deal, and then I promise I’ll fuck the hell out of you.”
A grin spread across her face, and she held out her hand. “Deal.”
He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers, and then he turned her so they were facing the mirror. “Lean over the counter and spread your legs,” he said.
She smiled as she did what he ordered. He unbuttoned his jeans and was about to rip open the condom when she grabbed it from him and tossed it on the floor.
What the fuck?
“You aren’t listening. It’s been a month.” She stared back at him in the mirror. “Since we went to the doc. You’re clean. I’m clean. I’ve been on birth control for over a month.”
“Fuck, yes.” He’d wanted to fuck her raw since that night in the bathroom at the bar. His cock sprung free. “Baby, I’ve wanted this for weeks.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“Put your hand where mine is,” he ordered. She frowned for a second but then touched herself.
“So fucking hot. Show me, baby. Get yourself off.”
She hesitated, and he pinched her left nipple hard.
She yelped but then grinned.
“Do it,” he said, and then shoved his cock inside her. “Do it or I’ll stop.”
Her fingers flew across her pussy.
Fuck, she was so tight and hot. He had to stop for a second to get control. Then he matched the pace of her fingers. He had one hand on her hip but the other wrapped around her hair, not pulling too hard, but enough where she noticed him.
“Open your eyes. See what I see, beautiful.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and then widened. He pounded her harder and faster
“So fucking beautiful.”
Her body quickened around him and tightened on his cock. “Hawke,” she screamed. That never got old. In fact, it sent another surge of heat through him.
Holy fuck. Her body trembled and she sagged against the counter. He let go of her hair and pulled her up so her back was against his chest as he pounded his cock inside her.
“Yes,” she cried. “Oh, Hawke. Yes.”
Shit. He pounded her a few more times and came so hard he wasn’t sure he’d be able to support them.
Holy fuck.
This woman was everything.
He was in trouble.
And he didn’t fucking care.