Free Sinful Rewards 11 by Cynthia Sax Page B

assume that.” Though I should have. My honorable military man would never allow me to be disappointed. “I dressed like this for you,” I say softly.
    “For me,” Hawke murmurs, holding me at arm’s distance. He drifts his gaze over my form, his slow perusal as arousing as a caress, his need open and intense. My body responds to his unveiled appreciation, my nipples tightening and my back arching.
    A strangled sound comes from Hawke’s throat. “I want to kiss the sparkle off your lips, rip your pretty gown off your body, and take you against the wall.”
    Yes, please. My pussy moistens. “What’s stopping you?”
    Hawke’s fingers clench into fists and release, clench and release, as though he’s trying to control his passions by sheer willpower. “We’re going to the charity ball. I’ve modified this morning’s plan. Originally, I was to be your bodyguard while Nicolas was designated as your date. The team would watch you at the distance.”
    “I’m not another client,” I realize. My possessive, protective man always planned to stand by my side, to attend the ball with me.
    Hawke’s eyebrows lower. “You’re my girl.” He brushes his scarred knuckles over my cheek. “Clients can be replaced. If I lost you . . . ” His voice chokes.
    I hold his hand to my face, nuzzling into his palm. “You won’t lose me.”
    His fingers tremble. “I’ll be your date now. Mack will be your bodyguard.”
    “Bodyguards might be ignored, but dates are noticed. The media could dig into your background,” I warn my spotlight-shy military man. “They could uncover that you own the Organization. All of your efforts to be invisible will be undone in one night.”
    “My efforts are worth nothing if you’re harmed.” Hawke’s lips are set in a grim white line. “The limo is waiting for us.” He grasps my hand and leads me through the door, into the hallway. “You’ll stay by my side at all times.” We walk toward the elevators, his stride shortened to match mine. “I need for you to pay attention. If you spot anyone or anything out of the ordinary, tell me and we’ll leave.”
    Hawke is risking everything for me—the exposure of his identity, the well-being of his loved ones and his business. He’s uncomfortable in his tuxedo. This is obvious by the way he’s plucking at his sleeves and rolling his shoulders, his muscles straining the seams of his jacket. He’s worried about our safety, his body tense with trepidation.
    Why is my former marine making these sacrifices? So I can walk into a room and feel like I belong. There will be no one in the ballroom I like, very few people I know. Some of the attendees think I’m a whore. Some of them treat Hawke and his team like shit. Some of them didn’t return Cyndi’s phone calls when her father disowned her.
    I lift my chin. We’re going out, but not to the Magnificent Ball.
    Hawke presses the button for the elevator, the doors open, and we enter. He selects parking level one. I gaze at our reflections in the mirrored walls, admiring the fit of his jacket, the line of his pants, the shine of his shoes.
    The sophisticated clothing barely contains my primitive man. My toes curl in my heeled sandals. The tuxedo doesn’t conceal the bluntness of his features, the scars on his skin, his flattened nose, or closely cropped hair. He’s a brute and he’s mine and I wouldn’t want him to be anyone other than who he is.
    “I have an urge to lick you all over,” I whisper. “From the tip of your toes to that thin scar on your hairline.”
    Lightning flashes in his blue eyes. “None of that talk tonight.” He waves his right index finger back and forth.
    I yearn to draw it into my mouth and suck. My eyelashes lower and my lips part.
    Hawke groans. “You’re killing me, love.” His voice deepens. “I can’t be distracted.”
    “Then you shouldn’t have worn that sexy tuxedo.” I give him my most seductive smile. “I want to yank the sleeves off your