Oh. God. Yes.
“I shouldn't have left you here. I should have dragged you kicking and screaming along with me.”
A part of me wished he would have.
“Or I should have stayed, Morgan. Fuck, every day I kicked myself for not staying.”
“W-what?” I stammered, brain fried with the way his hands were crawling up my waist, slipping under my shirt and making me putty in his hands.
“I never stopped loving you, Morgan. Not a day went by that I didn’t love you.”
His words sucked the air from the room.
My vision darkened, my muscles weak before his hands were at my hips and pulling me against him.
He hitched my legs around his waist. His hands were forcing their way into my hair, ripping out my ponytail and sending my hair in a cascade around us. Heaving pants of desperate breath racked us both as our lips attached, our sanity gone, our love beating stronger than it ever had.
I hated him.
I loved him.
I needed him.
I needed this.
“Oh, Hawk,” I sighed when his hand slipped under my skirt, fingers working against the fabric of my panties. I was aching, desperate, hungry for his body against mine.
“Missed you, baby girl,” were the last words he said before his fingers slipped inside my panties and his lips covered my moans.
I was lost.
Hawk was back, and I’d already fallen down the rabbit hole.