“You’re sure?” he asked, giving her one final chance to save herself.
“Positive,” she assured him.
Cupping his proud jaw into both her hands, Ella kissed him soundly. His lips were warm and firm. His tongue hungry. Scorched by the heat of his all-consuming need, she pulled away. Rather than seeking composure, she tossed her glorious mane of hair back and reveled in the sensation of being devoured alive by the blue flame of desire.
Hawk reached for the next button but found he hadn’t the patience to undo them one by one. Instead he ripped the front of her blouse open, popping the entire row of buttons off like so many snaps. Beneath that baggy, utilitarian shirt was a lacy bra molded to the most perfect breasts Hawk had ever seen. Ella was breathing hard, causing the swell of those breasts to rise and fall in the most erotic manner.
Worried that he would find her too unfashionably well-developed, Ella fought against the urge to cover herself from the harsh glare of the lights overhead. That Hawk paid her homage with her name on his lips made her feel lovelier than she had ever thought possible. Dipping his hand into the paint once again, he traced the curve of her breasts with his fingertips. Ella quivered beneath his touch. Kneeling beside her, Hawk bent down and suckled each hard nipple through the lacy fabric that held her captive.
Ella moaned when he pronounced her beautiful. She knew better than to trust any flattery uttered in the heat of passion. Still the compliment warmed her heart. She was no shy virgin, but up until now her experience had been limited and relatively awkward. This was as close to heaven as she had ever come. Cradling his head between her breasts, she gasped in pleasure when he took the clasp of her bra between his teeth and nipped it open.
Ella toppled over backward on the floor, pulling him over with her. Paint splattered everywhere. Hawk raised himself from her prone body to worship at its altar. This, he thought over the pounding in his head, was the way God intended a woman’s body to look, and to feel. Rounded, voluptuous, welcoming. Dipping his fingers in the paint, he trailed them over the curve of her breasts, down the hollow beneath her rib cage, to stop at the snap of her jeans.
“I apologize,” she told him with a wobbly smile intended to give him consent to push the envelope even further. “It seems you have a great deal to teach me about having fun after all.”
“I make you no promises,” Hawk told her softly.
In no mood for a discussion, Ella reached down and undid her jeans herself. “Would it help to know that I’m not looking for a long-term bond—just an unguarded heart?”
That in itself was asking a great deal from a man whose heart was fortified behind mighty castle walls. Ella squiggled out of her jeans and skimpy panties. Realizing that she lay naked with a fully clothed man kneeling between her legs, she reached for his shirt. Hawk was more than willing to assist her in divesting himself of it. He shrugged off his slacks and socks in no time as well, kicking them out of the way. Ella yanked his briefs down about his ankles and rolled him onto his back.
“My turn,” she purred in a voice so throaty that she almost didn’t recognize it as belonging to herself.
Using Hawk’s chest as a canvas, Ella mixed the colors of the rainbow into a mat of dark hair. A Greek sculpture in flesh and blood, his body was a glorious tribute to mortal beauty. Ella paid it tribute with her eyes and her hands. Splaying them across his heart, she painted in lustful strokes that had him moaning for release. It had been a long time since Hawk had made love, well before Lauren’s death, if the truth were known, and never in such a bold, untempered fashion.
Dragging her down to his lips, Hawk kissed her over and over again, indulging in the feel of their paint-smeared bodies sliding against one another. Positioning her beneath him, he discovered it was hard restraining this woman to one place. They started on the tile, but by the time Hawk parted her legs with his knees, they had somehow made their way onto the carpet. Mindless of rug burns, they writhed on the floor, joining body and soul.
Ella gasped as he entered her. He had looked enormous in his aroused state. So big in fact that she feared he would hurt her if he didn’t take care not to. She was so wet and ready, however, that her fears proved unfounded. The pleasure he rendered overshadowed any lingering soreness that would surely remind her later that she had been thoroughly loved. Neither of them paid any attention to the end table they overturned in the midst of their passion. A lamp and some pictures went crashing to the floor.
It was all Ella could do to keep from screaming every time Hawk took her to the edge of ecstasy and back again. She read the gratification in his face each time he felt her climax, taking his own pleasure to a higher plateau. Shuddering, he poured himself in her, calling out her name as if it were a prayer upon his lips. Feeling more joy than she thought a single woman was entitled to, Ella gave him safe refuge in her arms and her heart. Spent and satiated they lay there a long while.
Paint was everywhere. In their hair. Between their thighs. On the floor and walls. Even a speck or two on the ceiling. Though he had been the one to complain initially about the mess, Hawk wasn’t concerned in the least.
“I’ll start the shower,” he told Ella. “Join me.”
Hissy Face took this opportunity to dash out from beneath the couch and race across the floor. Multicolored paw prints marked her path. Ella picked up her ruined shirt and held it in front of her. For the first time since their passion had flared, she gave thought to the children. What would they think if they were to walk into this disaster area while both she and their father were standing there buck-naked?
“Just a minute,” she told him, stopping to slip into her shirt and straighten an overturned lamp. On the floor beside it lay a picture. Lauren’s gorgeous face stared accusingly at her from behind broken glass.
Ella felt a pang of guilt.
And resentment.
How was someone as plain and unsophisticated as she supposed to compete with such golden perfection, with a ghost who had just watched her making passionate love with her husband?
“Shut up,” Ella told the woman, turning her face down.
With that, she left to join Hawk in the act of washing away all signs of their flagrant indiscretion.
Seven
Cleaning up was almost as much fun as getting dirty. After tiptoeing upstairs to check on the still-napping children, Ella slipped into the shower with Hawk. He liked it hot. Languid heated showers were but another luxury Ella had yet to grow used to. They had decided advantages over bathing in the creek as she was accustomed to doing. Lathering her hands up with expensive, fragrant soap, she proceeded to wash the paint off all the places Hawk couldn’t reach by himself.
“You wash my back, and I’ll wash yours,” he suggested in a tone that matched the water’s temperature.
Ella willingly obliged, running soapy palms across the expanse of Hawk’s broad, muscled back. Satisfied that she had done an adequate job there, she slid her hands under his arms and cuddled up against him. His pectoral muscles felt hard and well defined beneath a mat of dark chest hair. Spooning her body against his backside, Ella was pleased to hear him sigh in contentment at the weight of her breasts and the soft feel of her downy mons as she slid across his back.
The hot water soothed away the soreness in Ella’s muscles and between her thighs. Hawk’s ministering touch was even more healing. They shampooed each other thoroughly, washing all traces of body art down the drain. His preoccupation with sudsing up her breasts made her grateful for once in her life for her rather generous endowment. All her life she had wished for a lithe, society-thin figure like Lauren’s as displayed in photos littering the mantel-piece. Many times Ella had cursed the middle button pulling on any given shirt. Suddenly that middle button lost its ability to make her grit her teeth in frustration.
She was gritting her teeth now, but for an entirely different reason. One that had her grabbing the showerhead to steady herself as Hawk played with her nipples, intent on making them expand beneath his p
atient ministration. It seemed he was intent on bringing her to yet another orgasm before allowing her out of the shower.
Not one to turn away such an exquisite indulgence when it was offered, Ella yielded, sinking a few moments later to the floor of the huge tub in an exhausted heap. The water beat down upon her in a lukewarm cascade. It seemed the water heater was giving out at last. Hawk turned off the faucet and pulled her into his arms.
“You are the most phenomenal woman I have ever encountered in all my life,” he told her.
Those words almost knocked Ella off her feet again. Clinging to his neck for support, she whispered in his ear, “That’s only because I succumbed to your charms so easily, you wicked man.”
Hawk laughed. Ella hoped he hadn’t mentally shortened her comment to mean only that she was easy.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Her sexual experiences had been few and far between. Her first serious crush, a nineteen-year-old drummer who paid Ella the first real romantic attention she’d ever received, taught her that sex did not automatically equate to love. She vowed to be more discerning when the band pulled out of town leaving her feeling cheap and used. Her last exploit had been with a great tipper who had gallantly defended her honor when another customer had surreptitiously pinched her bottom causing her to drop her entire order on the floor. Ella discovered later that her valiant knight had a wife and two kids waiting for him back in Seattle. The creep actually deemed it a consolation to offer to put her on his permanent sales route through the area.
Stepping into the comfort of the biggest, softest, whitest towel she had ever seen, Ella prayed that her pattern of self-destructive relationships was about to take a turn for the better. Opening the bathroom door, she saw Sarah just turning the corner down the hallway. Though a talented storyteller, Ella had no desire to explain her reasons for emerging from Hawk’s bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel to his baby girl with anything other than the truth.
“If you’ll wait for me in the kitchen, Sarah,” she called after her, “I’ll be there in a minute to fix you a snack.”
“Okay,” the girl called back, apparently satisfied that all was right with the world.
Ella wished it were so easy to put things right for Hawk. Though initially touched to discover he had cleaned up the mess in the rec room leaving absolutely no trace of their passionate lovemaking behind, it later occurred to Ella that in doing so Hawk was actually trying to erase the incident from his mind as well. He hid behind the computer for the rest of the day and at dinner seemed to have a hard time making direct eye contact with her. Afterward, he retreated to the den to read the newspaper and didn’t offer to join in their evening games as he had the night before. Faking a yawn, he went to bed earlier than usual, for the first time ever leaving Ella to tuck the children in herself.
Ella checked her heart for injuries. Though substantial, she hoped to survive the romantic tremors shaking her faith in her ability to ever find an emotionally satisfying relationship. Still, it was gut wrenching to discover that what to her had been the most glorious moment of her life was an embarrassment to Hawk! When would she get it through her head that men preferred women who played hard to get? When Billy suggested “Old Maid” after dinner, Ella couldn’t help feeling that it was destiny giving her another sign.
Hawk may as well have been reading the newspaper upside down for all the good it did him to try and concentrate on the business article he had started reading at least three times. Distracted by the sound of Ella and the children giggling over a game of cards, he found himself reevaluating not the stock market, but the choices he had made over the course of his lifetime. He had much to show in material gain for all his dedication and sacrifice. Still, money hadn’t been the answer for Lauren who had put so much stock in it that she married “beneath” her just to ensure its continual flow in her life. Unlike her father, who had prestige but a dwindling fortune, Hawk lacked a pedigree but possessed a knack for making money.
If, however, Lauren’s mistake had been marrying below her blue blood lines, Hawk’s had been in marrying into high society in an attempt to buy the kind of prestige denied those of blue-collar backgrounds. Unfortunately, Hawk’s new money never did smell quite as good to Lauren’s jet set friends as did the shrinking piles of old money moldering away in the hands of a younger generation more into squandering than generating assets.
Listening to the fun his children were having in the next room, Hawk couldn’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t have been far happier had he decided to build a life with someone less assuming, less demanding and less concerned with what the world thought of them. Someone like Ella. Hawk wanted to attribute her refreshing attitude to her age. Having survived a less than perfect marriage, he wasn’t eager to step into another any time soon. The mere thought of raising any more than his own two children left him with the cold sweats.
Just because he had experienced the warmest, most passionate sex of his life earlier in the day was no reason to go off half-cocked and start daydreaming about actually marrying that unconventional young woman in the other room. Hawk knew what a terrible disservice that would be to her. Such a charming, young creature had no business being fettered to a man as jaded as himself. In his early thirties, Hawk was far from being over the hill. Still, the decade separating his and Ella’s ages seemed insurmountable to a man struggling to get his complicated life together. Knowing Ella, she would probably want a whole brood of children to raise. He doubted whether she could ever be tied down long to someone as pedestrian as he seemed in her presence. Lauren certainly hadn’t.
Hawk already felt a twinge of possession seeping into his soul whenever Ella was near, and it frightened him. Abandoning his unread newspaper, he headed back to the shower. This time he intended to bathe alone—in cold, cold water, in hopes it would banish all thoughts of the sensual creature who had awakened his carnal appetite with such a vengeance.
Hawk awoke earlier than usual to the sound of Ella’s off-key humming outside his bedroom window. She was scattering seeds and stale bits of bread to the birds, who upon discovering her generosity, had begun congregating daily on the redwood deck. He knew just how they felt. He, too, wanted to be as near this beautiful, blithe spirit as trust would allow him. True to his name, Hawk kept his own wing tips poised toward fleet escape if his freedom were challenged.
Still in all, there were no signs of cages or captivity about Ella McBride as she settled into a soft-cushioned lawn chair with a sketch pad in hand. She looked lovely sitting there in the early morning light, savoring a cup of coffee before her long day of duties began. Previously unaware of his nanny’s morning meditative practices, he vowed to set his alarm earlier in the future if it meant awakening to such quiet gracefulness. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, deciding to postpone his shower until after breakfast so that he could share a private moment with Ella before the children arose.
One moment she was sketching the sun caught in the branches of an apple tree and the next her light was blocked by a Greek god standing before her. Hawk took her breath away. He was just as sexy with a trace of stubble upon his jaw line as without. Though both looks suited him well, this tousled bad boy air turned Ella to mush. She had always been a sucker for a man who looked like he rode his Harley-Davidson motorcycle over bumpy roads.
“Mind if I join you?” Hawk asked, his voice a deep, resonant timbre that sent the birds seeking safety in the nearby trees.
Ella wished she had enough sense to join in their flight.
“Be my guest,” she replied, setting her sketch down and giving him her full attention.
Avariciously eyeing her cup of coffee, Hawk cleared his throat. Twice. Clearly he was as nervous as she was about initiating conversation after the mind-boggling sex they had shared the day before. It didn’t help matters any that she was wearing nothing more than an oversize nightshirt. Ella was mistaken if she thought it boring attire. Indeed, Hawk found it sexier than any of the exorbitant
ly priced Paris lingerie of which his wife had been so fond to the tune of literally thousands of dollars.
“We need to talk,” he said at last, hypnotizing her with those soft gray eyes.
“Think so?”
Still hurt over the way he had emotionally ditched her after their mutual shower, she wasn’t about to make this easy on him. All night long she had tossed and turned, working this predicament over in her mind looking for the vein of gold running through a discarded pebble. Having abandoned any pretense of being immune to Hawk, she knew it was totally useless wishing that she hadn’t succumbed to her baser instincts. Ella supposed this was where she got her walking papers. And just as she suspected it was already too late to leave with her heart intact. Sarah and Billy had taken up permanent residence there. As well as their sexy daddy. Damn him all to pieces.
“Yes, I do,” Hawk replied.
He was so startled by her feigned indifference that he almost wondered if he hadn’t dreamed what had happened between them. His body certainly wouldn’t let him get by with such a lame pretense. Already he was reacting to this woman with all the ardor of a man who remembered every womanly curve of her body pressed against his. He grew hard with the memory.
“Do I need to apologize?” he asked, fighting off the urge to rip off her clothes and reenact yesterday’s rapture on the smooth redwood planking beneath them or the hot tub simmering beneath its cover on the deck next to them or anywhere on God’s good earth that she would grant him access to her delectable body.
“I hope not,” Ella replied stiffly, preparing herself for the old it’s not you, it’s me routine.
“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that,” Hawk continued. Wanting to make sure she understood he held her blameless, his eyes never left hers. “You’re young and susceptible, and it was wrong of me.”
Wyoming Cinderella (Silhouette Desire) Page 8