Hawk's Way Grooms

by Joan Johnston

  “Fantastic,” Brad said, grinning for the first time since he had arrived at camp. “That was fun, Mac. Thanks.”

  “Tell you what I’m going to do, partner. I’m going to autograph this football to you with thanks for a strong throwing arm, so you can take it home with you.”

  “Wow! That would be neat,” Brad said, sounding more like a kid his age every minute. He flopped down onto the sand, looking exhausted but happy.

  Jewel was aware of Mac’s wince as he settled onto the ground beside Brad.

  “I’ve got some snacks that’ll keep us until we can get some lunch,” she said, dropping to her knees and opening what was left of the graham crackers and peanut butter and celery she had brought for the campers. “That’ll also give you two a chance to cool off before we make the ride home.”

  As they munched, Mac and Brad talked. Jewel watched them closely. Brad had a smile on his face and talked a mile a minute, as though someone had turned up the rpms on a record. Mac listened. He didn’t look at her often, but often enough to remind her that he was ready and willing whenever she wanted to take that final leap of faith. “Are you ready to head back now?” Jewel asked, when Brad had wound down a little.

  “I guess,” Brad said. “Can we do this again?” he asked Mac as he shoved himself to his feet.

  “As often as you want before you leave,” Mac said.

  Jewel noticed Mac wincing again as he straightened his scarred leg.

  He caught her watching him and grinned, as though he hadn’t just been in pain. “Don’t worry. Everything important is working just fine.” He leered at her, making it clear exactly what he meant.

  Jewel felt flustered and excited. And anxious. Mac looked exhausted. He was using humor—and sexual tension—to distract her and doing a pretty good job. She was also concerned about Brad. He seemed awfully red-faced even after his rest. “Are you sure you’re both feeling all right?” she asked.

  “I’m doing great!” Brad said.

  “I’m just fine,” Mac said.

  Jewel pursed her lips. Typical males. Everything was fine until they keeled over. She decided to keep a close eye on both of them.

  Mac was still grinning as he ushered Brad past her and headed for the horses, whispering for her ears only, “You look beautiful, Amethyst. And very, very desirable. I can’t wait for…later.”

  Jewel’s heart started to pound as she stared at Mac’s back, wondering if she would have the courage to do this evening what she had been waiting six years to do. His calling her “Amethyst” reminded her that they had been friends for a very long time. That he would never hurt her. That she could trust him.

  Surely Brad’s admonition about postponing life had made a difference. Surely she would be able to let go of the fear and move forward with her life. All she had to do was take one step. And the adventure would begin.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BRAD WAS A DIFFERENT CHILD WHEN he entered the cookhouse for lunch—happy, talkative, showing off his football to the other kids and stuffing down a plateful of lasagna as though it was the best meal he had ever eaten. Jewel was proud of Brad for reaching out with both hands toward the future and grateful to Mac for putting an ear-to-ear smile on the boy’s face.

  However, Mac had not joined them for lunch, pleading the need for a shower. The entire time Jewel ate, she could not get the image of him naked in the shower out of her mind. She had the craziest urge to join him there which, of course, she did not indulge.

  After lunch, when the campers took a rest break in their cottages, Jewel had no excuse to linger in the cookhouse. She drew herself up from the bench where she had been sitting and headed toward her cottage, not sure whether she wanted Mac to be out of the shower or not.

  When she entered the cottage she felt disappointed not to hear the shower running. There was her answer. She had wanted an excuse to see all of Mac and had been thwarted. She headed for the bathroom anyway, thinking it would be nice to take a quick, cool shower herself while the campers were napping. The bathroom door was open on her side, so she assumed the room was empty.

  It was not.

  Mac sat in the tub covered with white bubbles—which she presumed had come from the glass-stoppered container of bubble bath she kept on the edge of the tub. He was leaning forward, his teeth gritted, his hands apparently gripping his scarred leg.

  “Mac?”

  He whipped his head around, swore, then groaned. She saw his biceps ripple as he applied tremendous pressure to his leg.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Cramp,” he gritted through his teeth.

  She dropped to her knees on the fluffy bath mat beside the tub, her eyes focused on his straining face. “What can I do? How can I help?”

  “I can’t move…can’t get out of the damned tub!”

  “Do you want me to help you stand up?”

  He shook his head violently and groaned again.

  “How long has the muscle been cramped?” she asked.

  “Too long,” he snapped back.

  His face was blanched with pain. The sweat on his brow and above his lip, which she at first thought had to be from the heat of the water, was apparently the result of fighting the cramp. For how long? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? “I’ll call 911,” she said, pushing off from the tub to stand up.

  “Don’t! I don’t want news of this getting out.”

  “You need help, Mac,” she said, angry because she was frightened.

  “Then help me, damn it!”

  “How?”

  “Maybe two sets of hands working on the muscle will get it to uncramp more quickly.”

  She hesitated only a moment before dropping back down onto the bath mat. Before she could change her mind, she stuck her hands beneath the thin layer of bubbles into the water—which was merely lukewarm—and reached for his leg. Her hands tangled with his before she moved them upward, closer to his knee.

  As she worked her fingers into the tightly clenched calf muscle she asked, “Has this happened before?”

  He nodded. “Never this bad.” His head rolled back and she watched his jaw muscles work as he struggled to endure the pain without making a sound.

  “Please let me call someone, Mac.”

  “No,” he grated out.

  “Then let me run some more hot water. Wouldn’t that help?”

  He met her gaze, struggled with the decision, then nodded.

  She tipped the lever to empty the tub, realizing after she did so, that the bubbles were going to run out with the water, leaving Mac exposed. But she couldn’t worry about his modesty—or hers—right now. She was too worried about his pain and the ramifications of Mac having such severe cramps in his leg after what would have been a very light workout if he had really been playing football.

  The water drained quickly, and a slurping sound announced the tub was empty. Jewel shot the lever closed and turned on the water, making it as hot as she thought he could stand.

  “Too hot?” she asked, turning to look at him for the first time since the tub had begun draining.

  “No. It feels good.”

  Her breath caught at the sight of him covered here and there with bubbles. She quickly turned her head away, but the image of him, wet curls caught on his nape, water pearled on his shoulders, bubbles caught in the curls on his chest—and on other curls—stayed with her.

  But not for long. For the first time, she took a good look at the leg she was massaging. “Mac, there’s not much muscle left here. It’s all scar tissue.”

  “I know,” he said with a discouraged sigh. “That’s the problem. What muscle there is left isn’t enough to—” His hands gripped his ankle as an agonized cry tore from his throat. She moved her hands near his at the back of his ankle and felt the muscle spasming. The steaming hot water covered their hands as she held on tight with him for the sixty-five long seconds it took the spasm to pass. Suddenly, she felt the entire muscle ease.

  Mac his
sed out a breath and, after waiting to see if the tension would return, cautiously let go of his leg.

  Jewel turned to look at him and saw his face was turned toward the tile wall. And that tears streamed from his eyes. “Oh, Mac.”

  “Go away, Jewel,” he grated out.

  She couldn’t do that. Not with what she knew now.

  Mac’s football career was over. He knew it. And was grieving for it.

  She didn’t think about what she was doing, she just did it. Two seconds later she had her tennis shoes and socks off and had eased herself sideways into the tub on Mac’s lap, her legs hanging over the side of the tub, her arms around his neck, her nose plastered against his throat. “I’m so sorry, Mac,” she said, her nose burning, her eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  At first she thought he was going to push her away, but his arms closed tight around her and he pulled her close, pressing his cheek tight against hers. She could feel him trembling, feel him struggling to hold back the sobs, until at last they broke free.

  She held him close, crooning words that made no sense, offering the comfort of her arms and her love. Oh, my God. I love him. It was a stunning realization. A frightening one when she knew his life, now that his future was so uncertain, might very well move in a different direction than hers. But that would not stop what she felt for him. He was another part of her, a part she needed to feel whole inside.

  Jewel had no idea how much time had passed when Mac’s heaving body finally quieted. He seemed completely relaxed, as though he had accepted the inevitable and was now ready to move beyond it.

  “You’d better turn off the water,” he said in a voice that was amazingly calm.

  Jewel lifted her head and realized the water had reached the rim of the tub and was threatening to spill over. She reached around and shut it off, then turned shyly back to Mac. “I should get off of you and let you finish your bath.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  She laughed uncertainly. “What did you have in mind?”

  In answer, he lifted her at the waist and rearranged her so she was facing him, her knees on either side of his hips. The extra weight of her legs caused the water to lap over the side of the tub, but Jewel had more important things to think about than a little water on the bathroom floor.

  “Mac, do you think we should be doing this now? I mean, what if your leg—”

  “Let me worry about my leg,” he said.

  When she opened her mouth to protest again, he covered it with his hand and said, “I’m fine. Really. Please, Jewel, don’t leave me.”

  She kept her eyes focused on Mac’s as he reached for the bottom of her soaked T-shirt and began to lift it up over her head. She raised her arms and let him remove it.

  I love him. And I trust him, she realized.

  Mac dropped the T-shirt onto the already soaked bath mat and reached behind her for the clasp of her bra. She gripped his shoulders and said nervously, “This is a first for me.”

  It was a warning and an offering and a prayer. Please be careful. Please let my body please you. Please let me not be afraid. She did not ask for what she wanted most. She did not say, Please love me. That was something Mac would have to offer on his own.

  His eyes were intent on her face as he pulled her lacy, heavy-duty bra off and her Beautiful Breasts—with wonderful big B’s, because Mac looked at them that way—fell free. The bra went the way of her T-shirt, and Mac reached out gently, reverently, to cup her breasts in his hands.

  “Exquisite,” he said, his thumbs flicking the nipples.

  Jewel had to remind herself to breathe as sensation streaked from her nipples to a drawstring somewhere deep inside her womb and pulled it up tight. Her hands threaded into the damp hair at Mac’s nape as he lowered his head to kiss each breast. His mouth latched onto a nipple and he sucked, gently at first, then more strongly.

  Jewel’s hips arched instinctively toward him.

  “Easy,” he said, his hands gripping her hips atop her cutoff jeans. “Slow and easy, Jewel. We have all the time in the world.”

  “I don’t know what to do with my hands,” she said anxiously. “Tell me what to do to please you.”

  He smiled. “You’re doing fine.”

  “I’m not doing anything!” she replied pertly.

  He lifted his hips, and she could feel his arousal.

  “Oh. Well. I see.”

  Mac laughed, a rumbly sound, and kissed her quickly on the lips. “I love your innocence,” he said, his eyes staring intently into hers. “I want to be the first, Jewel. I am so honored to be the first.”

  “But—”

  He put his fingertips to her lips. “The first,” he repeated.

  In truth, this situation was so incredibly different from what had happened to her all those years ago, that the past didn’t seem real anymore. Mac made her feel innocent, made her feel the joy and excitement—and normal fear—of an untouched woman.

  He teased her and touched her and tasted her until they were both wrinkled from the water. And she did the same, enjoying the pleasure of rubbing her breasts against the crisp curls on his chest and returning the favor of kissing and caressing and sucking his nipples—which turned out to be surprisingly sensitive.

  “We’d better get out of here,” Mac said, “or we’re going to turn into prunes.”

  Jewel felt a little shy standing up and stepping out of the tub. As much as she was tempted to look, she turned her back on Mac as he stood and stepped out of the tub behind her. She had already reached for a towel to cover her breasts, when he took it away from her.

  He aligned his body with hers from behind, put his arms around her to cup her breasts and played with her nipples until they were aching and pointy. His mouth teased her throat beneath her ear with kisses, before he latched onto a particular spot and sucked hard enough to make her moan with pleasure.

  “I’m only going to touch you,” he said, explaining as his hands slid down the front of her, unsnapped her jeans, spread them wide and slid his hand beneath her panties. “To let you feel my hands on you.”

  She held her breath, expecting the fear to return. But it didn’t. She felt only the warmth of his hand against her cooling flesh and the feel of his fingertips probing gently between her thighs. Slowly, carefully, he insinuated one finger inside her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  She felt his mouth curve into a smile against her cheek. “I think maybe you’d better breathe,” he said.

  She exhaled and then gasped a breath of air as his finger slid deeper inside her. “Oh.”

  He paused. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. I feel…” She searched for the word. Strange. Full. Achy. Yes, but more than that. “I feel good,” she said. “This feels so right.”

  “I’m glad.” He used his other hand to encourage her to spread her legs, so he would have easier access to her. And slipped another finger inside her.

  Her breath was coming in erratic spurts, and she reminded herself to keep breathing.

  “Still okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, then made a sound when his thumb found the tiny bud at the apex of her thighs and began to caress it. Her knees started to buckle, nature’s way of getting her prone, and Mac compensated by putting a strong arm around her midriff and pulling her back tight against him. She could feel his arousal against her buttocks, hard and pulsing.

  Instead of being afraid, she was aroused. She was sure she could make love to him this time without running away. She was ready to move forward. She wanted to feel him inside her. “Mac,” she said. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “Good,” he replied, his voice husky. “Just relax and let me make love to you.”

  Let me make love to you. It was what she had wanted for a very long time. Jewel let herself fully enjoy what Mac was doing to her—making love to her—without worrying about whether he was in love with her. He was as considerate a love
r as she could ever have hoped for. He cared for her. That would have to be enough for now.

  Mac had one hand inside her jeans, the other tantalizing her nipple, while his mouth teased the flesh at her throat. She writhed against him as her body experienced all the joy and pleasure she had not allowed herself to feel in the past.

  As the tension built inside her, she reached out to the pleasure, indulged in it, delighted in it, until she felt herself losing control. “Mac,” she said, the fright back in her voice. “What’s happening to me?”

  “Something wonderful. Let it happen, Jewel. Let me do this for you.”

  She trusted Mac. As he had trusted her to comfort him. More than that. She loved him.

  Jewel gave her body into his hands and was rewarded moments later with a shattering climax, her body shuddering with wave after wave of intense pleasure. “Mac,” she gasped. “Mac.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice gentle, his breathing as erratic as hers. “I know.”

  Jewel felt totally enervated and was barely aware when Mac picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. He pulled the sheets down on her bed, stood her up long enough to strip the wet cutoffs and panties off her, then tucked her under the covers before she had time to feel embarrassed at being naked.

  She expected him to join her. But the last thing she saw before her eyes slid closed was Mac’s taut, untanned buttocks as he walked out of the room.

  MAC KNEW THAT JEWEL HAD EXPECTED him to join her in bed, and that he would have been welcome there. He could have eased the ache in his loins and gotten them both over hurdles that had stood in their way for years. He had learned from their recent lovemaking that he had not only the self-control—but the desire—to put Jewel’s feelings and needs before his own.

  Several things had stopped him from staying.

  Mac had realized, as he was making love to Jewel, that he loved her. And not just as a friend, but as an inseparable part of himself. He wanted to spend his life with her. He wanted to plant his seed inside her and help her raise the children they would make together. He wanted to grow old with her.