“Yeah, there.” His fingers tightened on her buttocks when she would have moved. “Happens I like peaches.”

And he licked, lightly, up and over her pussy. Up and down. Around. When she started to whine, he relented and focused on her clit.

With a gasp, she grabbed the headboard.

He laughed and continued. Swirling and sucking, and pushing his tongue inside her. Driving her totally insane.

After she’d come so hard she’d seen stars, he rolled her onto her back, using his legs to spread her thighs. Pressing himself against her slick, throbbing entrance, he smiled. “Let me introduce you to my one-eyed dragon.”

A long, satisfying time later, Kit lay beside Hawk with her head on his shoulder. His skin was warm and slightly damp, and smelled woodsy with a trace of pine.

He stroked down her arm, then up to play with her breast, teasing the nipple as if fascinated.

Capturing his hand, she kissed his fingers, then realized there was enough light to see his whole arm.

“What?”

“Your tattoos. I like how the colors are shades of brown and gold.” She sat up beside him, holding his arm to see it better, then reached for his other arm.

Obligingly, he lay it across his stomach.

His right upper arm had a golden eagle—and, sheesh, she wouldn’t want to be within reach of that viciously hooked beak. His left had a soaring bald eagle with trees as a backdrop.

He loved those predatory birds. Whenever he saw one, he’d stop and just watch. Aric was full of the tidbits of information Hawk had shared.

His left forearm showed military helicopters, and the dark tree branches wove the birds and choppers together.

She nodded. Combat had definitely influenced who Hawk was.

With her finger, she traced a ridged pink line past a helicopter into the trees. The knife wound was healing.

He saw where her finger was. “Least it didn’t mess up the art.”

That was his only concern? Men.

Looking closer, she saw smaller tats in the branches. A police badge. A serpent entwined rod—the symbol of medicine. The round sign from Bull’s brewery. Then a bunch of military insignia. SEALs, Army Special Forces, the Night Stalker one. “Did all of you serve in the military?”

He nodded.

His right forearm was far more peaceful with a floatplane landing on a mountain lake in front of a log cabin.

But…what in the world? “Hawk, lakes don’t have sharks, do they?” She traced the dark shape cutting through the water.

He chuckled. “Mako means shark in Māori. It was the sarge’s military handle.”

Oh. She touched the cabin and glanced at him.

“Yeah, that’s where we grew up. I’ll take you sometime.”

It looked very primitive.