Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire

by Rachel Lee

  “Later,” he whispered in her ear as his hand gently massaged the thigh of her injured leg, “later I’m going to turn all the lights on and look at you. When I’m done you’ll know there’s nothing you need to hide from me.”

  She caught her breath again, but before she could say anything, he plunged his tongue into the shell of her ear and sent a shudder running through her entire length.

  Sweet heaven, had a woman ever been more responsive? The act of arousing her was arousing him like never before. At this very instant he could have buried himself in her and reached a height of climax that would have left him drained.

  But the getting there was the fun part, and he wanted to make sure she had every bit as much fun getting there as it was possible to give her.

  This time his mouth made the journey over her as he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat and onto her breast. This time he skipped nothing. Instead, drawing a low moan from her, he drew her breast into his mouth and sucked strongly, feeling her already engorged nipple enlarge even more against his tongue. His mouth was hot, her breast was cool and sweet, and he didn’t think he would ever want to let go.

  She moaned again, and her entire body tried to turn toward him, telling him so very much about what she was feeling. “Craig…” she whispered his name, then was lost in a fresh wave of passion that rocked her from head to toe. An undulation passed through her like a huge wave, exciting him even more.

  But they had all night and he was a determined man. He moved to her other breast, sucking just as strongly, teaching her body things it had never dreamed about itself. Damn, she was so innocently sexy!

  Fresh need burst in him like a nuclear explosion. He sucked again and another groan was ripped from her.

  Now! He wanted her right now!

  But no, not yet. Sliding his hand downward, he slipped it between her legs. She gasped.

  “Sweet…” he muttered, his thoughts getting more scattered by the moment. She was sweet, all dewy folds and moist creases. He rubbed her gently, giving her time to grow accustomed to his presence in that most intimate of places, then he slipped his finger between her folds and found the knot of nerves that would lead her to the pinnacle.

  She cried out this time, as if his touch were too much to bear, but she didn’t pull away from him. Lifting his head from her breast, he watched intently for signs of distress as he rubbed her so very, very lightly. A whole range of expressions played across her face, and she kept her eyes tightly closed, as if she wanted nothing at all to distract her from what was happening inside her.

  In the dark he smiled at her, and thought that she was incredible. Her hips began to rock insistently, and he pressed harder with his finger. She groaned and it seemed her entire body arched upward, demanding more and yet more.

  He gave it to her, stroking her more firmly and sliding one of his fingers deep into her wet depths. She arched then, crying out, and her eyes opened wide in astonishment.

  Perhaps the penetration hurt her a little; he couldn’t tell. But she didn’t try to push him away, nor did she complain. Instead her eyes closed and she pressed upward harder against his hand.

  And then, so swiftly that it took him by surprise, she surmounted the peak with a long, low cry and convulsed against him.

  Before her convulsions ended, he levered himself over her and pressed his erection to her entrance. Her eyes snapped open again, dark and glittering in the nearly lightless room. He restrained himself, suddenly remembering.

  “I can’t,” he said. “I didn’t bring protection.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But—”

  “Shh…it’s okay. Really. Nothing will happen…”

  He couldn’t restrain himself another moment. The woman was willing and he’d run out of excuses. His body demanded surcease, and his heart demanded his union with Esther. He wanted her, damn it. He was through considering consequences.

  He slipped into her almost effortlessly, her discomfort evident in her suddenly indrawn breath, in the widening of her eyes.

  When he hesitated, she murmured, “It’s all right. I’m okay…”

  And then he drove home, carrying himself higher and higher with each thrust of his hips. To his great joy he heard her soft cries of passion yet again.

  And finally she called, “Harder…oh, please…”

  He obliged readily and moments later carried them both over the precipice.

  He rolled off of her and let the cool night air bathe their skin for several minutes, drying them off. Then he turned toward her and cradled her as close as he could get her. A woman’s body was a miraculous gift, and Esther was more miraculous than most. She had given him a trust so profound that he felt confused. Even a little panicky.

  Part of him wanted to run right now, but he figured that would be about the worst thing he could do to her. Nor would it make things any easier for him. Against his better judgment, he had given them both what they thought they wanted. What he feared now was that they both were going to discover it had been a big mistake.

  That she was going to discover she had made a big mistake.

  He hoped the spirits were in a benevolent mood.

  But what now? Should he climb from the bed and return to the sofa downstairs where he kept guard each night? Or should he stay where he was and feel the gossamer web of involvement grow ever tighter?

  Esther stirred against him and her hand found his cheek, resting gently there. “Thank you.”

  She was thanking him? That had a curious effect on him, at once humbling him and terrifying him. “No, I should thank you,” he said huskily, then cleared his throat. This conversation could get heavy in a real hurry, and that was the last thing he wanted right now.

  Because right now he absolutely didn’t want to have to sort through his jumbled feelings and thoughts, trying to make some sense of them so he could explain them to Esther. The last thing he wanted right now was any kind of postmortem.

  So he sat up abruptly, and switched on the light. Esther made a soft gasp and tried to tug the sheet over herself.

  “No,” he heard himself say, tugging the percale from her hand. “I made you a promise.”

  Her blush was rosy, not only flooding her face but her shoulders and breasts as well. “Craig, no. Really, it’s not necessary…” Her voice faded away as she lost air with which to speak.

  But he wouldn’t let her escape him. He had promised her something, and he always kept his promises. Never mind that he was going to back himself away from a relationship with her as quickly and gracefully as he could manage. The point was, from now on when she thought of a man looking at her body, she was going to see him and know that not everyone was revolted by her imperfection. She was going to remember that one man at least found her desirable.

  Initially the experience was painful for her; he could read it in her eyes. She felt exposed and frightened of his reaction, not to mention embarrassed. But he wouldn’t let her hide from him. Instead he scattered kisses all over her, trailing them from her neck to her toes.

  Yes, her leg was smaller and not as well shaped as her uninjured one, but it was hardly repulsive. He strung extra kisses over it, and made a point of staring straight at it so she would know he wasn’t avoiding it.

  And finally her embarrassment faded, replaced by the blossoming of fresh passion. He kissed her everywhere again, this time lingering longer, making silent suggestions with his lips and tongue until she was in helpless thrall to the sensations he was giving her.

  Then he slipped gently between her legs and drank deeply of her womanliness, giving her one of the most beautiful experiences a man could give a woman. And nothing, absolutely nothing in his life, had ever touched him as her rising cries of release touched him.

  When he slid up over her and looked into her hazy hazel eyes, he murmured, “You’re perfect in every way that matters.”

  Her eyes widened, then closed slumberously as he
slipped within her once more. She cradled him perfectly, and even as he rode her to the stars he wondered how the hell he was going to live without her.

  Dawn crept through the windows in a silver glow. Esther slipped out of the bed and paused to look down at Craig. She was surprised he had stayed with her all night. Somehow she hadn’t expected that.

  He was beautiful, lying there sprawled out with only a corner of the sheet to preserve his modesty. She probably could have stood there forever drinking him in except that Guinevere had emerged from somewhere in the depths of the house and was letting it be known that she needed to go out now.

  Sighing, choosing to ignore the brace that leaned against the chair beside the bed, she made her cautious way down the stairs. Guin charged ahead of her, dancing impatiently in the hallway below.

  Where had the dog been last night? Esther wondered. In retrospect she would have expected Guinevere to show up during their lovemaking out of curiosity if nothing else, but the dog had apparently chosen to spend the night elsewhere. Curious.

  And oh, what a night! Remembering, she felt a fresh blush stain her cheeks. Craig had given her no quarter, demanding her full response. She tingled all over with memories of how he had touched her and kissed her, and how he had made her feel.

  So beautiful! Nothing had prepared her for the breathtaking actuality of making love. Nothing could have prepared her.

  She made coffee and sat at the kitchen table with a mug, all the café curtains pulled back so she could watch the start of day.

  Nothing, she realized, was ever going to feel the same again. Nothing was ever going to look the same. She had been changed by last night in a way that few things in her life had changed her. A whole new world had opened up to her, and a man had given her the gift of knowing that she was a whole woman.

  How was she going to live with the emptiness now?

  With a sigh she looked down at her mug of coffee and understood why the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge had been forbidden. She hadn’t expected the transition to be as earth-shattering as it was, and now that she actually knew what she would be missing, her isolation was only going to be more painful.

  She sat on, watching the day lighten to the clarity of full morning, and felt deep within her a kernel of terrible rage at the man who had distorted her entire life. And now he expected her to listen to his apology?

  A burst of black hatred filled her as she acknowledged for the first time that she wasn’t only afraid of Richard Jackson. She was angry at him. Furious. And she hated him with a passion that nearly scared her.

  How had those feelings been there but unrecognized for so long? How could she have felt things so strongly without knowing it? And why had last night opened the vault in which she had kept them buried?

  Because her future was suddenly bleaker than ever before. She had promised Craig that she wanted only one night, and he had come to her only because of her assurances. He had feared hurting her because he couldn’t offer her any kind of future. He had warned her. Repeatedly. And she had chosen not to listen. She had chosen to run the risk.

  And now she knew exactly how much Richard Jackson had cost her. Last night had opened up long-ignored dreams and showed her that they could be real—but not for her.

  To begin with, she couldn’t trust a man. She had come to trust Craig only by long exposure. Another man would have run for the hills the first time she freaked out on him. And even last night when she had started to freeze up, he had been so understanding. She would have forgiven him if he’d called it off right then.

  So Craig was unique. He had been patient with her beyond belief until he had surmounted her fears and her barriers enough that she could trust him. That was about as likely to happen again as the moon was to turn into green cheese. Hell, she’d gone her entire life and not one other man had attempted to get past her defenses.

  Not that she really wanted them to, because she was afraid of them. They were bigger and stronger, and they were familiar with violence. Throughout her childhood she had watched boys beat up other boys, and in adulthood it didn’t escape her how often men were behind crimes of violence, how often they beat their wives, children and dogs.

  She didn’t want to run this risk again. She was honest enough to admit it. Craig had gotten behind her walls only because of an unusual series of events that had brought them together often enough to encourage it.

  But she could not consciously take the risk.

  Another sigh escaped her and she sipped her coffee, frowning when she realized it was getting cold. She poured herself a fresh cup and resumed her melancholy contemplation of the world beyond her window.

  She had to deal with this rage and hatred she felt for Richard Jackson, she decided. The violence of the feelings frightened her, but more, she felt they were probably keeping her from healing. How could she ever heal with that kind of virulence inside her?

  But how could she get rid of something that had been a part of her for so long? Forgetting was apparently impossible. She’d tried before to just bury the past and treat it as something that had happened to someone else. That had only made her angrier.

  But never before had she realized just how very angry she really was, or that she felt such hatred for her father.

  Fear had been all she allowed herself to feel about him for so long that the strength of her hatred shocked her. She didn’t want to feel that way about anybody, not even about Richard Jackson.

  Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any way to banish the feeling. It sat there in her mind like a lump of coldest lead, leaving her feeling sickened. It was awful to discover she was capable of such a thing.

  A creak of floorboards in the hall alerted her. She looked up to see Craig enter the room looking tousled and only half awake. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” Sort of. He was gorgeous standing there in nothing but a pair of jeans. Even his bare feet were beautiful, strong and straight. The sight of him evoked memories of the night past and made her heart skip to a quicker rhythm. Just a few hours ago she had clasped him to her and felt him deep within her. Everything inside her clenched pleasurably at the memory.

  He cocked his head, studying her intently. “You don’t look fine.”

  Before she could protest, he closed the distance between them, bent over her and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “Last night was wonderful,” he murmured. “Regrets?” She hesitated long enough that he lifted his head and looked intently at her. “You do regret it.”

  But she shook her head. Would she undo what had happened? No. And in her book that meant she had no regrets. “No. I don’t.”

  He dropped into the chair next to her and looked at her seriously. “If there are any consequences because I didn’t use protection—”

  “I know what to do about it,” she interrupted, letting him think she meant abortion. In point of fact, the mere possibility that she might be pregnant filled her with an almost unbearable yearning. To have a child! To have Craig’s child… There was suddenly nothing in life that she wanted more.

  He was still watching her intently. “If anything comes of it…” He hesitated. “I just want you to know I’ll help in any way I can. You won’t be alone.”

  She believed him. He’d already displayed his sterling character repeatedly. Craig Nighthawk was a man of great honor, and he would probably even offer to marry her if she turned out to be pregnant and expressed her intention of keeping the child. But she didn’t want him that way. Would never want him that way. He would only feel like a prisoner, and he already felt too much that way.

  And this was all ridiculous speculation at this point anyway. She found a smile and offered it to him. “I know, Craig.”

  Her smile seemed to relax him, and he rose, padding across the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. When he returned to the table, his expression was almost rueful. “This is awkward,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Just…not knowing exact
ly what to say.”

  Her smile became almost brittle. “Last night was last night. Today is today. We agreed that last night was…well, it was last night. It ends now.”

  Something flickered in the depths of his dark eyes. “Does it?”

  “You said you’re a wanderer, that you can’t offer me a future. I understood that and I agreed to it.” God, it was killing her to say this, but she didn’t want to tie him to her with shackles of guilt and honor. That would be unbearable, like capturing a mustang and putting it in a small corral. He needed to be free. “All I wanted was the one night. I told you so.”

  Again that odd look flickered in his eyes. “You did,” he agreed, his voice flat.

  “So the subject is closed.” She managed another smile. “You go your way, I go mine. No hard feelings, no regrets.” Gee, did that sound grown-up or what? “Would you like some breakfast?”

  He continued to stare at her until she began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Finally he shook his head. “I’m not hungry this morning. Thanks, anyway.”

  “Okay. You have to go work at the ranch this morning?”

  He looked surprised. “I’m staying with you to make sure your father doesn’t cause any problems, remember?”

  She was suddenly flustered, realizing that he was right. How was she going to survive having him around all the time?

  She didn’t particularly want breakfast either, but preparing one gave her something to do to evade his steady gaze. He was looking at her as if she were some kind of riddle to be solved. Tomato juice, toast, a slice of melon…she carried them to the table and forced herself to eat mechanically. Chewing and swallowing at least obviated the need to speak.

  “Have you thought any more about Sheriff Tate’s idea?” Craig asked her.

  She looked at him, toast turning to ash on her tongue. She had to take a swallow of tomato juice to get it down. “I don’t want to confront him. What good would it do?”

  Craig looked disbelieving, as if he wondered if they had participated in the same conversation with the Sheriff. “It’ll settle the issue of exactly what Jackson wants from you.”