~* * *~
Hawk watched the blond woman back away from the crowd. Her fingers trembled as she removed one roll of film from her expensive-looking camera and replaced it with a new one. Her body swayed slightly in the afternoon breeze and she reminded him suddenly of a reed twisting in the wind.
Long blonde hair framed a delicate face and eyes the clearest shade of blue he’d ever seen rested in an inquisitive expression. Her skin glowed white, but not just like a white person. Like cream.
As if the sun refused to kiss her.
Dressed like a city-dweller would dress if they lived in the country, she definitely appeared out of her element. Skin tight Wranglers accentuated her full hips. Hips made for a man’s hands. A sleeveless Wrangler shirt, pink with a yellow collar, stretched tightly across rounded breasts. Breasts made for a man’s lips. He kept his eyes trained on her until the crowd of well wishers and boy-crazy girls demanded his full attention. He’d find her later.
And if the sun refused to kiss her, he would happily take up the slack.
After spending a few minutes with some of the mooning girls he always dealt with when he performed, he extricated himself to search for the yellow-haired photographer. He found her a few minutes later, seemingly waiting for someone. He experienced a twinge of unexplainable jealously as he scanned the immediate area for any male who might be her escort. He didn’t see anyone, and deciding to risk it, he walked over to her.
“Anii aninishina, ozawahn weenessisee.” He liked the way her breath caught in her chest when she smiled at him.
“Hello,” she replied, more than likely not even realizing he’d said basically the same thing to her. She cleared her throat before speaking again. He made her nervous, he could tell.
“I’m Candice Lincoln, from National Pulse Magazine,” she began. “I’m doing a piece on hoop dancing. I was actually hoping to meet you. I hope you don’t mind that I took some pictures of you.”
Time to have a little fun. He schooled his features into a frown and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I came over to take your film. I’m afraid I can’t allow you to take my photograph.” He stifled a smile as she blanched. Her eyes widened as she gasped.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s a religious thing, isn’t it? You think your soul has been captured.”
He couldn’t do it. The look on her face stole his breath and tormenting her further would certainly damn his soul, anyway. He chuckled. “No. I’m just playing with you. Take all the photos you like. He offered his hand as he continued, “I’m called Hawk. Nice to meet you, Candice Lincoln.”
Her warm fingers slipped into his and he felt her slight tremor. “So, why were you hoping to meet me?”
“I wanted to ask you some questions, if it’s okay. I’m not real familiar with Indian culture,” she replied.
“Native American culture isn’t something you can understand in a day, Miss Lincoln. It takes dedication, and living the culture, to even begin to learn it. I’ve been studying my whole life, and I still learn things from the dadibaajimoowinini every time I speak with one.”
“Dadibaa...,” she laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry. What does that mean?”
He liked her laugh. The sound came from inside her, with nothing even remotely like a giggle. Even with the timid lilt in her voice, he knew she possessed a confidence only few women were lucky enough to find.
“Loosely translated, it means ‘storyteller’. Every chance I get, I’ll sit down with one of the elders and learn a little more of our history.”
“I see.”
“So where do you want to start?”
“Start what?”
He laughed aloud. “Your interview?” he reminded her.
“Oh, right,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I have no idea.”
“How about a tour of the park? If you think of any questions, just yell.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He offered his arm and she took it. Her soft touch on his forearm sent a fire to his loins he hadn’t expected. As they strolled through the crowd, he’d never been so thankful for the breech cloth portion of his regalia in his life.
“Okay, here’s a question. Those women over there,” she pointed toward three women selling hand-beaded jewelry from a card table covered in black velvet. “They are called squaws, right?”
He chuckled. “Well, the one in the middle, in the blue dress? She’s actually called Martha. And if you call her ‘squaw’ you’d better do it running, because she’ll probably kick your ass.”
“Why on earth would she do that?” she declared boldly, a smirk hidden beneath her mock outrage.
“Because the word ‘squaw’ is akin to ‘whore’. What would you do?”
Heat suffused her cheeks and she looked down briefly, before meeting his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. Most gichi-mookomaanag have no idea,” he offered. “And before you ask, that means, white men, or Americans.”
Candice felt like a fool. She’d made more verbal blunders since she’d introduced herself to Hawk than she was comfortable with. She would have to be careful not to offend him in the future. At least she could try not to. It became increasingly difficult to concentrate as she held to the firm muscles of his arm. He escorted her though the camp, as if he were some nobleman, and she a great lady. Lynette’s words came back to haunt her.
...sex with a way buff brave...
“So what about you?” She stepped around a paper plate someone had abandoned on the ground.
He stooped and picked it up, crumbled it and tossed it in the trash receptacle a few feet away. “Two points. And the crowd goes wild.” He turned his attention back to her. “What about me?”
“Are you called a brave?” Her heart raced. She felt like she could pool into a puddle of goo if he would just say the word.
“You watch too many westerns, lady.” He tilted his head to look down at her, his impressive height making her head spin.
She sighed and offered a wan smile. “I suppose you’re right. But you have to know, I’m a city girl. Through and through. Westerns are the closest I’ve ever come to anything like this.”
“Well, then, you haven’t seen anything, yet. In answer to your question, some men are called Warriors, but they’ve earned it. By serving in the military, or through some act of courage.”
“And do you rank among them?”
A child with a handful of bright yellow helium balloons dashed across their path. Candice stumbled and would have fallen if Hawk hadn’t used his free hand on her opposite elbow to steady her. She regained her balance and stared up at him. Instead of releasing her, he slid his right hand up her left arm as he stroked her gently with the pad of his thumb.
“No. I’m just a man. Isn’t that enough?”
The insinuation in his dark eyes shook her to the soles of her borrowed boots. Enough? Hell, yes, it was enough.
Chapter Three
“So, how long have you been a writer?” Hawk sat next to Candice on the soft grass beside the lake. They’d spent hours wandering the grounds and now rested beneath a shade tree, eating fry bread.
“All my life,” she answered with a proud smile. “Ever since I can remember.”
Blood pumped through him as his eyes rested on her rosy lips and her long, slender neck. He wanted to taste her. He decided at that moment, he would taste her. Soon.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice sounding breathless.
“I want to kiss you.”
She swallowed hard and the muscles in her neck contracted slightly. He nearly groaned aloud. “So why don’t you?”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. He put the paper plate on the ground beside him without taking his eyes from hers. He lowered his mouth toward hers slowly, leaving her room to change her mind. But he prayed to whatever god would listen that she wouldn’t. By the time he reached her lips, he thought he would die with wanting. He’d never before felt
such a pull of attraction to a woman before.
He’d had flings, even one bona-fide relationship, in college. But nothing, no one, had ever tempted him like this before.
Finally, his lips met hers. He kissed her briefly, barely nipping her bottom lip with his teeth. She parted her lips and raised her face to grant him more intimate contact. This time, he did groan as he took her face in both his hands and deepened the kiss. She tasted sweet, like her name. He knew she would. Her tongue played with his as he swirled it inside her mouth in an ancient erotic rhythm. She leaned into him, her breasts brushing the breastplate of his regalia. He wanted out of it. He wanted to feel her sliding naked against him. He was no expert, but based on her reaction to his hands stroking through her hair, she wanted it too.
Could he risk it? Did he dare?
She moaned into his mouth and he knew he would.
Pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers. Through heaving breaths, he panted, “How far is your hotel?”
“Twenty minutes,” she breathed. I’m parked right over there.”
“I have my Indian. I’ll follow you.”
She smiled broadly. “Your ‘Indian’?”
He laughed from somewhere deep inside, where he’d never known he existed. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I’ve heard it from just about everyone already. But I didn’t name the damn bike.”
~* * *~
Candice couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She raced through traffic like a woman possessed, ignoring the other drivers, except the man on the bright red motorcycle directly behind her. He’d changed his clothes at the park. He went into the tipi like a man out of time, and came out wearing thigh-hugging faded blue denim jeans, a white T-shirt and black leather jacket. Under one arm, he tucked a shining black helmet. He’d taken the feathers and leather out of his hair, which lifted from his shoulders as the wind kicked it.
Her sweating palms slid over the steering wheel. She was really going to do it. Propriety be damned, she was going to ravish him. Heat pooled in her womb and throbbed through her limbs as she maneuvered her rented Corsica around a semi tractor-trailer. Nearly missing her exit, she swerved in front of the truck. The air horn reverberated around her. She laughed. She’d never been this crazy in her life. What was wrong with her?
She didn’t care.
Checking the rearview mirror, she found Hawk keeping pace with her. Good. If she’d lost him, she’d just die. Her tires squealed as she made a sharp left into the parking garage of her hotel. She skidded to a halt on the first level. Hawk pulled into a space not far from hers.
“Lady, you’re dangerous,” he declared as she climbed from the car.
“I can’t help it. I so rarely get to drive.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Good,” she replied over her shoulder as she led him to the elevator.
Once inside the mirrored box, he turned on her with ferocious passion. Pushing her against the back wall, he feasted on her lips before dropping his mouth to run his tongue over her jaw. She tilted her head back as she clung to him like a drowning victim. His body pressed against hers and she felt the hardness of his erection against her belly.
“God, you taste good,” he breathed against her neck. “You’re killing me.”
His hair tickled her bare arms as he moved his body over hers. She arched against him, silently begging him to touch her. He read her mind as well as he read her body, she decided, as his firm grip found her breast and kneaded the flesh through her shirt and bra. Killing him? She teetered on the brink of damnation.
She moaned as his other hand cupped her behind and drew her pelvis into him. Her body reacted instantly and she nearly came undone.
The chime sounded and they jumped apart. His hair fell over his eyes slightly, but he never took those dark orbs from her. She checked the floor indicator over the doors as they opened to admit an elderly couple. Sixth Floor. Halfway home.
Hawk studied Candice’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes. Her chest heaved with breathless wanting, though she tried to hide it. He chuckled as she shifted uncomfortably on her long, slim legs. His mouth watered to taste her again. If he didn’t have her soon, he would burst.
The old man pushed the floor above hers. Damn. He wouldn’t be able to touch her again until they reached her room. He drew in an unsteady breath. On the opposite side of the car from her, he inhaled her scent of sex and woman. He smiled a knowing grin, and she blushed again. What were the old couple thinking? Did they know what was about to happen between the young people sharing the elevator? He caught the silent, knowing glance the old man threw him and laughed. Yeah, the old man knew exactly what was going on.
The doors opened on the twelfth floor and Candice made a move to exit. Hawk followed her lead as the old man cleared his throat. “Have fun, kids.”
Candice stopped dead in her tracks, half in and half out of the car. Hawk placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her forward as he answered over his shoulder. “We will, grandfather,” he laughed.
The doors closed.
“I can’t believe he just said that,” Candice declared, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.
“I can. The tension in there was so thick you could cut it with a knife. They’re old... not stupid.”
Candice pulled a keycard from her satchel and struggled with the magnetic door lock. Pressing himself against her back, he moved her hair off her neck before cupping her waist in his hands. He nibbled on the back of her neck, until finally, the resistance in front of her subsided and the door swung open.
Without releasing her, he followed her step for step into the large suite. She dropped her camera and satchel on the floor beside the dresser and TV stand, and spun in his arms. He captured her mouth again, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and gently tugging on the full flesh. Damn. He was going to die, right here, right now, and he didn’t give a flying fuck.
She kissed him back, pulling him into her before running her hands inside his open jacket and sliding it off his shoulders. He let the heavy leather fall to the floor, then scooped her off her feet and carried her to the bed. His body burned wherever she touched him, trails of fire branding him like an iron.
Laying her on the bed, he stood over her and removed his T-shirt. She smiled appreciatively as her eyes roamed over his chest then settled on his buttoned jeans. He couldn’t stop the grin from escaping. She made him want to smile. Hell, she made him want to sing, for crying out loud.
She pushed herself up to her knees and slowly removed her shirt. Beneath it, a teal lace bra did little to hide her breasts from him. The dark circles of her nipples showed through the thin fabric.
“Oh, hell,” he breathed. “Eya’.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to unlace his boots. She pressed her body against him for a moment then pulled away. Where the flesh of his back had simmered for a mere moment, he now froze. His suffering lasted only a second before her naked breasts seared him. She moved his hair out of her way and trailed hot, wet kisses down his back.
He kicked his boots off and straightened. With trembling fingers he unbuttoned his jeans. When he stood to remove them, he allowed himself the luxury of turning to face her. Shock and undeniable ecstasy coursed through him. She kneeled on the bed gloriously naked. Her eyes smoldered and called to him.
The room spun, heated only by their bodies and the promise of pleasure so untamed Candice thought she might actually swoon. Like some wanton, she sat on the bed begging him silently to take her. This man she didn’t even know, but whom she knew better than herself at that moment. The twilight sky filtered through the windows, shadowing the rock hard planes of his body. He lowered his jeans, kicked them absently across the floor and joined her on the bed. They remained on their knees, the heated hurried coupling replaced with tenderness as he ran the pad of his thumb over her mouth. She licked it with the tip of her tongue and watched the heat in his eyes jump a notch.
“Are you sur
e?” he asked her simply, his head tilted in that way he had which meant he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Yes,” she breathed, not sure if she’d spoken aloud.
“Good.”
Then he attacked with a passionate force she’d never known a man could possess. He devoured her lips, her neck. He fed the fire within her searching limbs until the liquid heat burned a path to her most secret places. He laid her down, separating her thighs with his leg. He played with her hair, running his dexterous fingers across her scalp, and cupped her breast with the other. When his lips found her breast, his hand moved to stroke between her thighs. He slipped a strong finger inside her and she arched against it.
“Oh, god,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t stop, ozawahn weenessisee. Not until you beg me to.”
“Never, never stop,” she curled against him as he continued to delve inside of her. Almost immediately, she came apart. His touch was sheer heaven and she’d witnessed the glory first hand.
He allowed her only a moment of respite before he positioned himself between her legs. His thick shaft rested at the entrance to her soul, teasing her with promised passion. “Open your eyes, ozawahn weenessisee. Look at me.”
She did as he asked and found him on the brink of losing control, if the crease in his brow were any indication. She’d never felt beautiful before. She’d never considered herself in the same vein as those women who could drive a man to distraction. But she felt beautiful now. He made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
“I want to see your eyes when I take you.”
Then he did. With all the graceful flight of his namesake, he brought her to heights of passion she’d never known existed.
Chapter Four
Dance in my Heart Page 2