He grins at my observation but offers no explanation for his mysterious ability to stay out of the papers.
I’ve never seen anything like it. There are articles about his father that mention Savage and his siblings when he was a child—crap, now I remember the sisters being referenced—including quite a few from the weeks following his father’s death in the ring. But, as an adult, other than mentions of the opening of his restaurants and the club and a few other business dealings, there was nada. It’s as if he disappeared from public view and intentionally stayed that way.
The need to dig and probe further has been eating away at me since I hit the dead end, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to do that here at dinner. Especially not when I’ve already insulted him many, many times in the few hours we’ve spent together.
Wait, did he say he did research on me?
“You researched me?”
He chuckles and picks up his wine glass, swirling the maroon liquid around and around. I can’t tear my eyes away from his strong hand and long fingers wrapped around the stem.
Fuck. Even his hands are orgasmically beautiful.
Flashes of him doing things—dirty, nasty, sinful things—with those hands race through my mind, and my clit throbs just imagining his touch. I cross my legs under the table, pressing my thighs together as tightly as I can in a vain attempt to ease my need. There’s no doubt in my mind I’m blushing, and Savage’s focus on my cleavage assures me I’m correct.
Arrogant prick knows he’s causing this and is getting off on it.
“Yes, I researched you. I like to know all I can about people who come storming into my office with murder in their eyes.”
“Murder? Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad!”
He’s such a drama queen!
His eyebrow quirks up and the corner of his mouth moves into a sexy half-smirk. “Weren’t you?”
Was I?
Thinking back, maybe I was a bit overzealous in my advocacy on behalf of Nora, but I never would have hurt him. At least, not without his permission. Just thinking about digging my teeth into the side of his neck and shoulder while he pounds into me has me shifting uncomfortably again and chugging half my glass of water.
I take a cleansing breath before I even bother trying to speak again. “Savage, I’m sorry…”
His smile fades and he leans forward, looking me directly in the eye and holding me captive with his blue gaze. “Danika, stop apologizing. I told you, if I was offended by anything you did or said, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”
A flood of relief washes over me.
I nod my understanding but, truthfully, the fact that nothing I have said has offended him is a bit of a mind-fuck. It makes me wonder what it would take to actually insult him and how he got such a thick skin.
The fact that he did research on me is a little disconcerting, too. It’s not that I have anything to hide, but a man like Savage Hawke knowing things about me, things I didn’t divulge, makes me a little shaky. “So, what did you find out in your digging?”
“Well,” he says, setting down his glass and leaning back into his seat, “your father was a cop and died in the line of duty when you were twelve. Now, it’s just you, Nora, and your mother, who lives in Harahan.”
I bet he even knows our social security numbers.
“Stalker, much?” I ask with a smirk. He grins back, and I wish I had brought an extra thong with me tonight. Sitting in wet panties with a throbbing clit is worse than medieval torture. I would much rather be stretched out on a rack right now than sitting across from Savage practically dripping with need. Sometimes, my libido can be such an inconvenient bitch.
“You graduated with your bachelor’s in journalism from Loyola and almost immediately went to work at the Times.”
“All that information is very easy to find. I would have expected a deeper probe from you.”
Savage’s eyes widen slightly and he drops his head back, roaring with laughter. My skin heats, and I bite my tongue to prevent further sexual innuendos from slipping out unbidden.
When he finally recovers, he leans his elbows on the table and locks his gaze with mine. “Oh, Danika, believe me, I always ensure a very deep probing.”
Fuck.
I completely lose it, dropping my face into my hands in a fruitless attempt to hide my beet-red face and bone-deep embarrassment. Savage is something else, that’s for sure. His response only endears him to me while making me even more aware of my constant verbal diarrhea, which only seems to happen around him.
Thankfully, before he can say anything else, our food arrives. I’m able to down the rest of my glass of water while our plates are set on the table.
“Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Hawke?” the waiter asks after refilling our wine glasses.