Mystery Man(134)

At that point, I decided that I’d have to find another form of gratitude.

I was still searching.

I pulled on the dress and sat on the side of the bed, opening the shoebox and unveiling the Valentinos.

I had vowed to myself to take them back and return them.

I changed my mind.

Then I had vowed to myself I would never wear them. I couldn’t possibly walk on what was more than most people’s monthly mortgage payments.

However, I again changed my mind.

I was sliding on shoe two when Hawk walked in my bedroom door.

I put my foot to the floor and looked up at him, standing. “Glad you’re here, baby, I need you to help me with my bracelet.”

I walked to the dresser and opened my jewelry drawer, unearthing the Tiffany’s box.

He’d bought me a diamond bracelet too, just as he said, that very next day after we became us for the second time. I told him he couldn’t possibly do that either and when in the store, refused to pick one. So he did.

I pulled the bracelet out of the box and shut the drawer just when I felt Hawk’s fingertips on the skin of my side right where the material started. Those fingertips became a hand gliding into my dress, across my ribs and then up where they cupped my opposite breast. Then he pulled me into his front.

“Hawk,” I whispered, my head falling back to his shoulder as his thumb swept my nipple and I repeated, “Hawk.”

“Hold onto the dresser, baby,” he muttered into my ear.

“What?” I breathed as his other hand tugged up the skirt of my dress.

“Hold on,” he ordered.

“We’re late,” I reminded him then sucked in breath when I got another nipple swipe.

“We’re gonna be later,” Hawk replied.

“But –”

“Hold on,” he repeated, his hand sliding into the front of my panties.

Oh God.

He hit the golden spot.

Oh God.

My head turned so my forehead was pressed to his neck.

“We’ll be quick now,” he whispered. “But later, I’ll show you how I really feel about this dress.”

“’Kay,” I agreed but I did it on a moan because the fingers on both his hands moved.

* * * * *

I crossed my legs in the Camaro, studying my shoes at the same time adjusting my bracelet on my wrist for no reason except I liked to remind myself it was there.

“Okay, well, we have to come up with an excuse. You needing to work and me needing a makeup change isn’t going to cut it. We’re seriously late,” I said into the car.

“Babe, we don’t need an excuse. Anyone who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late.”

I felt my face pale, actually felt it, and turned my head to look at him. “That isn’t true.”

“Okay, I’ll amend my statement. Any man who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late. Including your Dad.”

“Ack!” I gagged then put my hands up to my ears and chanted, “La la la.”

Through my chanting I heard Hawk laugh.

When it seemed it was safe, I stopped chanting and dropped my hands.

Hawk started speaking. “Got an interesting call today.”

“Yeah?” I prompted when he said no more.

“Developers,” he replied and I turned to look at him again. “This is their fourth call in as many months. They want the warehouse and the space around it, all of which I own. They’ve been offering bullshit but their offer today got motivating.”

“What?” I whispered.

It had been four months since Hawk and I went back to us. Four really good months. It was the beginning of July. The weather was nice. The days were long. Our passion (obviously) hadn’t cooled. But things had changed.

Now I was tied so tight to him I was certain I’d never get loose and I didn’t want to. The same with being in so deep, I’d never surface.

But, even drowning in Hawk, I didn’t lose a hint of me.

I lived my life, edited my books, met my girls, went shopping, went out to dinner, went to movies, sometimes alone, sometimes with my friends and sometimes he was a part of that.

Hawk worked and he worked a lot. But when he was with me, I had his total focus. We’d seen several movies together and we went out to dinner often, mainly because I didn’t eat like he did (and wasn’t going to) and he could order food like he liked and I didn’t have to cook two meals (though, on occasion, I did this too). When he had time, he’d hang at mine or I’d hang at his.

No matter if our days took us separate ways, we slept together every night. Sometimes he’d be with me and we’d go to bed together. Sometimes I’d feel his warm hand on the small of my back in the middle of the night. Sometimes he’d call and tell me he wanted me at his place and I’d go. I had a key, though he didn’t have one to mine (that I knew of) but he didn’t need one.