Craving Hawk (The Aces' Sons 3)

“What are you doin’ up?” he asked as I stopped in the open doorway.

“I rolled over and you weren’t there,” I said, wrapping my arms around my waist.

“You sound like a wife,” he joked, tapping his lighter on the edge of the chair.

“Don’t,” I said hoarsely. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he asked lazily, rising to his feet and setting his pipe and lighter in the chair.

“Don’t make jokes about it.”

“Who was joking?” he asked, crowding me back into the apartment.

“I’m going back to bed,” I announced. I hated his tone. The way his lips were pulled up in a sarcastic smile. The way he was looking at me. I hated all of it.

He was miserable. I could see it. But none of the bullshit we’d been through that day had been my idea.

I turned away, but before I’d taken two steps, his arms were wrapped around my waist and his face was pressed against the side of my neck. I froze.

“This is gonna all work out,” he said, dropping one of his hands to run it lightly across my belly.

“Let’s just go to bed,” I murmured, refusing to relax against him. He was ready to kiss and make up after completely ignoring me all night? That was great. But I wasn’t so ready to start getting cozy again.

For as many people as had told him he was an idiot, and nuts, and going to regret marrying me… just as many had called me a bitch and a cunt and pussy. As in, “You’re really gonna throw your life away on some pussy?”

I’d talked to those people. I’d spent three weeks with them. I’d played with their kids. I’d helped the women make dinner and I’d played pool and horseshoes with the men. And not one, not a single one had said, “Oh, Heather? I liked her.” I’d never given a fuck about people’s opinions of me, but for the first time in my life I was experiencing the sensation of having a large group of people actively disliking me. I hated it.

It made me feel small.

“Come on, sugar,” Tommy said with a sigh. “We’ll deal with all this shit in the morning, yeah?”

I felt tears sting the back of my nose as he shuffled me across the room and gently helped me back into bed. It only took him a minute to strip down and then he was crawling in behind me and wrapping himself around me.

I fell asleep with his breath against the back of my neck, but I woke up to him yelling and shooting up off the bed like he was possessed.

“Tommy?” I asked, my gaze shooting around the apartment to try and figure out what had him jumping out of bed. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer me. His breath was coming in loud pants, and as I looked him over I noticed that not only was he covered in sweat, but the sheets were damp too. My clothes were clammy and stuck against my back.

“Are you sick?” I asked quietly, pushing back the covers.

He still hadn’t answered me as I rounded the bed, but he jerked away when I laid my hand against his side. He wasn’t hot. There was no way he had a fever when his skin was so cold and clammy.

“What’s going on?” I asked as he bowed his head and wrapped his fingers around the back of his skull.

“Just a bad dream,” he rasped out, shaking his head. “Just a fucked up dream.”

“Come back to bed,” I said softly, leaning down a little so I could peer up into his face. I was afraid to touch him again in case he pulled away. It had stung enough the first time.

“Gonna hop in the shower first,” he replied. He took a couple of unsteady steps backward then spun and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him while I stood there in confusion.

The shower turned on and I shook myself out of my stupor. He’d tell me what the dream was about if he wanted to. Asking him would just make him defensive. I knew at least that much about my future husband.

I stripped the bedding off the bed, and was almost finished remaking it when Tommy came out of the bathroom.

“Thought you’d be asleep,” he mumbled. He was completely naked but didn’t seem to care as he strode toward the bed.

“The sheets were kind of damp, so I put some clean ones on,” I replied, throwing the last pillow back on the bed.

“Sorry about that,” he said, finally meeting his eyes.

Just looking at him became painful then. It was as if every word he’d never said, and every hurt he’d ever felt were right there in his eyes, drowning him.

“Baby,” I whispered, my own eyes tearing up.

I didn’t move toward him, because suddenly he was right there, his hands in my hair and his mouth on mine. He groaned into my mouth when my hands came up to grip his sides, and one of his hands dropped straight down to push at my underwear.