Heart of the Hawk

by Justine Davis, Justine Dare

  “He kept you in rags,” he said huskily, as if he’d read her mind. “I’d dress you in silk and lace.”

  She laughed nervously. “I’m not a silk-and-lace kind of woman.”

  His hands stopped for an instant, and Kate held her breath again as his fingers slid inside the opening he’d made, stroking across her skin.

  “Perhaps not. You’ve silk of your own,” he whispered.

  She shivered as he undid more buttons, slowly, so slowly.

  “Why . . . why are you taking so long?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  “Because this is half the pleasure,” he said, his fingers taking a very long time at the tiny buttons over her breasts.

  Kate went still, trying to absorb yet another startling idea, that a man could find pleasure in anything other than the act itself. But there was no denying the expression he wore as he continued to tug at the buttons, nor the fact that he lingered over her belly, then below, so close to that part of her that she knew she would soon have to surrender to his will.

  That she thought of that without the fear of bruises to follow was a measure of how much she had come to trust him. She knew it would hurt—it always hurt—but she was beginning to see why women apparently tolerated the pain for the closeness. That must be the good part Deborah had spoken of.

  But when the buttons of her dress were all loose and he moved to slip the bodice of the dress from her shoulders, she instinctively tightened, holding the thin, faded calico to her body as if it were a shield.

  “Anytime,” Josh said softly. “Anytime you want to stop, you say so and we stop.”

  “But . . . once you start . . .”

  “I am not Arly, Kate,” he said again. “Nor am I a boy who can’t control himself. No matter how much I want you, I’ll stop.”

  She didn’t know which stunned her the most, that she believed he truly would stop if she simply asked him to, or the other astounding thing he kept saying.

  “You . . . want me?”

  He groaned, a low rumble from deep in his chest that made her shiver. He grasped her left hand with his right, and slowly pulled her hand down his body. He placed her palm over the hardness that strained against his pants. Instinctively she tried to pull away. Arly had never wanted such contact; he’d wanted only to drive himself into her and spend himself as quickly as possible. But Josh’s hand was still holding hers, and turned her movement into an inadvertent caress of that rigid flesh. He groaned again, deeper now, and when she hastily looked up at him, she saw his eyes had closed, as if he wanted to concentrate solely on her touch.

  He removed his hand to again grip her shoulder, but the startling thought that he might welcome such touching made her leave hers where it was. Carefully, always ready to pull away quickly, she repeated the motion that had been unplanned before. Josh groaned yet again, and she felt his hips shift, pressing himself against her hand as if he indeed sought more of her hesitant caress.

  She did it again, a longer, firmer stroke this time, and when he let out a throttled sound and his fingers tightened on her shoulders, a thrill she’d never known before rippled through her. And this time, when his hands moved to push the dress off her shoulders, she didn’t stop him.

  She heard him suck in a breath as he looked down at her. Belatedly she realized she had on one of her oldest cotton chemises—not that any of them were new—and that it was worn so thin it might as well not exist as far as concealing anything. She didn’t, couldn’t look at herself; she knew too well that he could see every curve of her breasts, and the darker rose circles of her nipples. Nipples that felt oddly tight, like they did when she was very cold, or in the days before her woman’s time.

  He had her single, equally worn petticoat untied before she realized what he was doing; Joshua Hawk was no stranger to women’s underclothes, it seemed. She stood there in her thin chemise and underdrawers, shivering more from emotion than cold; the healthily stuffed wood stove had warmed the room nicely.

  “Good God,” Josh said, reverently rather than profanely. “Maybe Arly wasn’t crazy as a loon after all.” Kate looked at him quizzically. “If the men in this town had known how lovely you are under those baggy dresses, he’d have had to fight them all for you.”

  Kate stared at him. Lovely? Her? Plain, too-tall, strange-eyed Kathleen? He was mocking her; he had to be. Yet she could see nothing in his face except honest admiration, nothing in those vivid eyes except a fierce need that was like Arly’s in its urgency, yet tempered with a gentleness she’d never known before.

  His hands moved, and her eyes instinctively followed the motion as he began to work at the buttons of his shirt. It took her a moment to realize he was going to take it off, and her gaze shot to his face. He shrugged the shirt off, then stopped in the act of dropping it to the floor. His brows lowered as he took in her startled expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head mutely, so stunned by the naked expanse of his chest she couldn’t speak. Lord, she thought wickedly, she’d never realized a man could look so . . . so . . .

  Josh let out a compressed breath. “Let me guess,” he said. “Arly never got undressed?”

  She shook her head again. He was beautiful, she thought in shock. She’d never thought a man could be beautiful, but he was. He was so big, so strong, yet at the same time he’d been so gentle with her, and that made him even more beautiful to her.

  “Did he undress you?”

  Heat flushed her cheeks in a rush. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t describe how Arly had merely pulled her nightdress up, draping it over her head so, as he’d so often told her, he wouldn’t have to remember how homely she was.

  “He . . . said it wasn’t fitting,” was all she could manage to say. Josh growled something unintelligible. Suddenly possessed of a recklessness she didn’t understand, she added, “But I’m glad. He didn’t . . . look like you. He was soft, and . . . and ugly.”

  “Stop talking about him. Stop thinking about him. He’s gone, Kate. He’ll never touch you again.”

  He pulled her hard against him, and Kate let out a startled gasp at the feel of him as her hands came up against his bare chest. The first sensation of incredible heat, then of sleek skin taut over hard muscle, and dusted with just enough hair to make her fingers itch to move. Unlike Arly, who had been covered with a pelt of coarse hair—

  Stop thinking about him.

  And then Josh was kissing her again, hard and deep yet gently, coaxingly, and she couldn’t think of Arly, of his ugliness, his cruelty. She could only think of herself, and Josh, and what he was doing to her, the incredible feelings he was causing in her.

  His hands slipped up from her hips, over her ribs, and up to her breasts. Instead of kneading them cruelly, he cupped them tenderly, lifting their weight in a way that nearly made her dizzy. She felt her nipples draw up even tighter, until she wanted to cry out, although she didn’t know for what. And then, as if he’d known, Josh gave it to her. His thumbs moved upward to rub over the stiff peaks. Darts of fire shot through her, and she did cry out then, cried out in shocked pleasure; she’d never known such pleasure from that part of her was possible. All she’d ever known from Arly was pain from his roughness.

  Stop thinking about him.

  Josh broke the kiss, and Kate couldn’t help the little sound of loss that escaped her. But then he did something shocking. He lowered his head to her breasts and one after the other captured the nipples he’d just been teasing with his lips and flicked them with his tongue, hot and wet through the thin cotton.

  “Josh!”

  It burst from her helplessly as she stared down at his dark head. What was he doing, suckling her like a babe? Did he get some pleasure out of this? Could he possibly know how it made her feel? Why did she feel it so low and deep inside her, as if there were some uns
een connection between her breasts and that hollow place Arly had invaded but never really filled?

  Stop thinking about him.

  Josh’s head came up then, and at her first look at his face she had to believe; his eyes were hot and his lips were parted as if he wanted to continue this forever. And Lord help her, she would let him; she’d never felt anything so lovely.

  “Remember what I said about going slow?” Josh asked, his voice oddly thick. She nodded, a little frightened by his intensity. “Forget it,” he said.

  She braced herself, knowing the gentleness was over, that now he would become as all men, rough, urgent, and in a hurry to hammer himself into her body until he reached his release. She told herself this was enough, that this was all the pleasure a woman could expect. More. It was certainly much more than she’d ever felt with Arly—

  Stop thinking about him.

  She gasped as Josh swept her off her feet. But he held her gently, cradled her easily, as if she were something precious, as if she were the tiny, normal-sized woman she’d always longed to be. But then she heard the rending of thin, worn cloth as Josh tore her undergarments away. Fear struck her as she lay naked in his arms; even Arly was too practical to damage her shabby clothing in his haste to take her. Had she been wrong? Would The Hawk be as savage as his namesake?

  And then he was putting her down, laying her atop the pile of blankets as carefully as if he thought she might break. He knelt beside her, first looking at her, then touching her with such gentle care and reverence it almost made her weep. She forgot her embarrassment at being naked before him as his hands slipped over her, caressed her, stroked her, as if he truly thought her as lovely as he’d said.

  She knew she wasn’t. There were places where Arly had marked her permanently, but even that didn’t seem to bother Josh; he merely kissed the marks, slowly, lingeringly, as if to ease that long-ago pain.

  He cupped her breasts again, and bent his head to her. Even before his mouth closed over one nipple, she felt her pulse leap in anticipation of that burst of heat, and when it came she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t stop the utterly wanton response of her body as it arched, thrusting her breasts upward to him.

  “Katie, Katie,” he murmured against her soft flesh. “Yes, that’s it.”

  Kate trembled. No one had ever called her that; Arly never spoke, in fact had barely seemed to know or care who she was. Nor had she ever heard a voice that sounded like Josh’s did now, deep, rich, hot and husky. He laved her breasts, teasing the crests to a hardness that seemed almost unbearable. She couldn’t seem to stop the unseemly undulations of her body, and barely noticed his right hand sliding down over her belly until his fingers parted her and she felt him probing where no one had ever touched her before. She gasped in shock, reflexively clamping her thighs together.

  “It’s all right, Katie,” he said soothingly. “Relax, just let me touch you.”

  “But Arl—”

  She broke off suddenly. Yes, Arly would never have touched her there, had been interested only in how fast he could get inside her. But again, Josh was not Arly.

  Stop thinking about him.

  Josh returned his mouth to her nipple and drew it deeply into his mouth. That heat rippled through her again as he pulled at the nub of flesh she’d never known could give such pleasure. He moved to her other breast and repeated his actions, and it wasn’t until she felt the slow, circling motion of his fingers between her thighs that she realized she had indeed relaxed them.

  Before she could clench her legs together again, a jolt of sensation shot upward from beneath Josh’s hand, seemed to collide with the little darts of fire from his mouth at her breast, and together settled into a molten, spreading pool of golden warmth.

  “Oh!” The exclamation escaped her before she could stop it. “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you,” Josh said, then went back to teasing her nipples as he circled that tiny knot of flesh she’d never realized was there before.

  She didn’t know what was happening to her. His caress wasn’t so forceful that it should build such awful, wonderful pressure. He just kept doing it, that slow, circular stroking, and she found herself wanting to arch that part of herself toward him as she had her breasts, and the wanton thought both thrilled her and shamed her. It seemed he was barely touching her, yet the urgency began to build, to grow until she was fairly writhing.

  She was vaguely aware that she was sprawled open before him in a most indecent manner, but she couldn’t seem to care. Nor could she care when she realized that the tiny, mewling sounds she’d been hearing were coming from her. Nothing mattered except the growing ache inside her, and she wondered how she could feel so swollen and so empty at the same time.

  He increased the pressure of his touch just slightly, and Kate cried out at the much greater surge in her urgency. She had to hurry, had to reach . . . what, she didn’t know. But she knew that Josh knew, and convulsively lifted her hands to tangle her fingers in the long, dark thickness of his hair, for once not even thinking that Arly never would have allowed such a thing, because this was a place Arly had never taken her.

  And suddenly Josh’s fingers were moving faster, and then faster still, until she was moaning helplessly, thinking she would die if something didn’t happen, if this awful, wonderful pressure didn’t ease.

  Her body went suddenly rigid as the sensations changed, from heat streaking from beneath Josh’s hands and mouth to a strange sensation that seemed to come from within her. It started as a small ripple, then a swelling pulse. She felt Josh move away and cried out his name, but he came back to her swiftly, settling himself on top of her. She realized he’d shed the rest of his clothes, but couldn’t find it in her to be shocked at her first real sight of a naked man. All she could think of was the unexpected revelation that, even naked and aroused, a state that should have terrified her, she still thought him not just handsome, but beautiful.

  She felt no fear, only that rush of hot, shuddering sensation when Josh levered himself between her legs. She felt the insistent probe of his maleness, but she didn’t care that the pain would come now, as it always did; anything was worth this glorious feeling.

  But it didn’t hurt at all. Instead he slid into her as if meant to, easily, yet at the same time filling that hollow empty place so completely that she nearly wept out her joy. And then he began to move, to thrust into her, and still there was no pain.

  Instead, that fullness burst into a wave that grew ever larger, ever more powerful as it swept through her. She felt a strange, powerful clenching in that deep, low place, an intense, rhythmic movement of muscles she’d been unaware of until now, muscles that seemed to be clasping . . . Josh. He was buried deep inside her; she could feel him, but there was no pain as her body seemed to be trying to draw him in even deeper, as if he were some long lost part of her returned at last.

  “Oh, God, Katie . . . yes.” Josh’s voice was harsh, yet Kate thought it beautiful. “Katie-eee.”

  He thrust harder, but he slid in and out of her so easily she felt only a sweet, luscious friction instead of pain, the pain she’d always thought to feel. And just as the incredible sensations that had swept through her began to fade, she felt Josh go rigid. His back arched, he ground his hips against her, and she heard a low, strangled groan break from him. She stared up at him through the lingering haze of her own unexpected ecstasy, watching in wonder as his head lolled back, his eyes closed, and his face drew taut with pleasure.

  He cried out her name once more, and it seemed to Kate the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. He shuddered, then shuddered again, and then she felt the hot, searing pulse of him inside her. Josh collapsed atop her, his head cradled on her shoulder, and she heard the quick pants of his breathing as she felt the rapid movements of his chest. But still he held her, his arms cradling her as he murmured things she couldn�
�t believe he was saying, things about sweetness and beauty no one had ever said to her before.

  For the first time in her life, pinned beneath a man, she did not feel trapped, did not feel overwhelmed with the need to escape. In fact she found a strange enjoyment in the feel of Josh sprawled atop her, especially as he continued to hold her as if he truly wanted to.

  She lifted her hand, then hesitated. But need overcame her, and she moved to touch again the surprisingly silky thickness of his hair. Instead of drawing away, he made a sound almost like a purr and snuggled into her shoulder. She stroked his hair then, loving the way it felt under her fingers. When he still didn’t protest, she let her reach extend until her fingers were brushing over the skin of his shoulders, skin that seemed almost too sleek and smooth for a man.

  For a long time they lay silent, until Josh stirred and slid to one side, telling her he was too heavy for her. She didn’t protest, although she didn’t agree. Especially since he still kept his arms around her. After a few more silent moments, he chuckled, a small low sound that made her smile without knowing why.

  “I guess I showed you. I just didn’t count on showing myself at the same time.”

  “Showing . . . yourself?”

  He lifted his head, and in his face she saw, to her amazement, a touch of the same wonder she herself had felt.

  “How good it can be,” he said.

  Kate’s eyes widened. “You mean . . . it was different . . . for you, too?”

  His mouth quirked into that lopsided grin that always made her insides take that tumble. And he proceeded to tell her exactly how different it had been. And then he proceeded to show her all over again.

  And she never once thought of Arly.

  GROGGILY, JOSH wasn’t sure what had awakened him, a fact that worried him, since he usually awoke alert and aware. But that feeling only lasted for a moment; he felt the soft warmth of Kate beside him, and memories of last night swamped him, pushing everything else out of the way like a flash flood clearing its path. He didn’t remember how many times they’d made love; he only remembered how each time was more incredible, as Kate grew certain he wouldn’t hurt her and became braver, freer, bolder.