Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire

by Rachel Lee

  Beautiful, she thought, isn’t even the word for it.

  He turned back to her, dressed in only that gold earring, and suddenly it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She watched him move, fascinated by the play of muscle under that sleek skin, captivated by the way one strong line of his body flowed into the next, and more than a little awed by the blunt, rigid male flesh she was about to encounter on a very intimate basis. Her lower body clenched, as if already wishing he was there to clasp, to hold.

  A shudder rippled through her, and she lifted her gaze to his face. “All right?” he asked.

  She didn’t know if he meant did she feel all right, or if what she’d seen was all right. It didn’t matter. Either way, the answer was the same.

  “Yes. Oh, yes. Very.”

  Instinctively her hand moved, her fingers curling, almost aching to touch him. But she pulled back, uncertain.

  Luke took her hand and guided it to him, gently shaping her fingers around his own hardened flesh. “Anything you want,” he said harshly.

  She heard him suck in a breath as she tested the length and breadth of him, marveling at the feel, at the satin weight of him against her palm and the size of him beneath the curve of her fingers. Once she heard him make a sharp sound and stopped, fearing she’d hurt him. But he lifted himself, nudging her hand until she knew it hadn’t been a sound of pain. She resumed the caress, pressed the same way, rubbed the same place, until he gasped out her name on a choking breath.

  Only then did the glint of foil in his hand draw her eyes. When she saw what it was, her gaze shot back to his face.

  “Funny,” she said, her voice suddenly a little wobbly, “I never thought of you as the cautious type.”

  He went very still. “You mean this?” He indicated the condom with a nod. “If you mean am I always prepared, then yes. Not because I expect anything. Although I gotta say, girl, if I hadn’t had them, I would have bought them a week ago, you wind me up so tight.”

  He leaned over and kissed her softly.

  “I’m always prepared, Amelia, because I swore from the time I realized babies came from sex that I would never, ever bring an unwanted child into the world.”

  Amelia’s breath caught, and she was furious with herself for even thinking about having hurt feelings about his advance preparation. She should have realized that he, of all people, would never take the chance of causing an accidental pregnancy. Nobody knew better than he the difficulties that could cause.

  She lifted her head, slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, thoroughly. She tried to put everything she couldn’t find words to say in that kiss. And when she let her head fall back to the pillow at last, she could see in his face that her message had been received.

  “Are you going to use that,” she asked, “or just wave it around?”

  He laughed, and this time she could feel it with her whole body as he lay over her. He sat up, tore open the wrapper and sheathed himself. He did it fairly easily, but with just enough awkwardness to tell her he didn’t do it every day. He turned back to her, swallowed, started to speak, stopped, then tried again.

  “If you want to stop, now’s the time.”

  She stared at him; the thought of stopping at this point had never entered her mind. He seemed to misinterpret her reaction, because he said quickly, “I don’t mean I won’t stop if you tell me.” He made a wry face at her. “I just mean if we go any further, it’ll probably kill me.”

  “If you stop,” she said, reaching out to trail a finger down his naked chest with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “I may kill you myself.”

  With a sound that was half groan, half chuckle, he lowered himself to her, bracing himself with those powerful arms. She welcomed him eagerly, her hands moving as swiftly as his had, tracing the powerful lines of his body, savoring every angle, every plane, every fit, potent inch of him.

  When he nudged at her thighs, she opened for him quickly, shivering in anticipation, aching in some empty place deep inside that she’d never known was there.

  And then Luke was sliding into her, slowly, with exquisite care, stretching her, and the emptiness began to recede.

  She felt him shudder, saw the muscles in his arms tremble. Muscles that handled raging water, that powered through impossible rapids, were trembling.

  She suddenly realized why.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t hold back. Not now.”

  “Amelia,” he breathed, as if she’d released him from a penance.

  He drove into her, high and hard and deep. She cried out in shock at the fierceness of it, at the marvelous fullness of it, at the sheer pleasure of his sweet invasion. Her cry melded with his throttled oath as he rocked against her, grinding his hipbones against hers, pushing harder, then harder, as if he felt the same urgent need she was feeling.

  She fairly writhed beneath him, wanting more, yet certain she could take no more, that she was stretched beyond bearing. The only thing she could think of that would ease this clenching, grabbing need was for him to do what he’d just done. Again. And again. And again.

  “Again?” he growled against her ear as he eased his body back, and she realized she had voiced the longing.

  “And again,” she whispered, voicing the rest of the wish, pushed beyond shyness by raging need.

  He pulled back, nearly left her, and she whimpered at the loss. He slid his hands under her, curled his fingers back over her shoulders, and when she realized he was bracing her, holding her in place so he could thrust harder, the anticipation nearly made her cry out before he even moved.

  And then he drove forward, hard and fast again, burying himself to the hilt in her with one long, swift, powerful stroke. Again and again, just as she’d begged, he hammered her body with his own, driving her up and up with each plunge, until her only grip on the world was the feel of his body beneath her hands.

  She clutched at him, her fingers slipping over skin now damp with sweat. She shifted her legs, opening for him even more, as her hands cupped his buttocks and she added her own urgency to his barely restrained power.

  He muttered her name, once, twice, and then again, in a low, guttural voice that only added to the thrilling pounding of his body. However wild, however ferocious, this was, there was nothing mindless about it; it was very, very specific, and it was for her. Her, and her alone. Given by a man who at this moment seemed to know her better than anyone else ever had.

  She no longer knew herself at all, no longer had any connection to shy, reserved Amelia Blair. She was some wild, desperate thing, propelled higher and higher by the man in her arms, flying, spinning, rising, until she thought she would break free completely and go soaring off into some other world it had taken a fallen angel to show her existed.

  With a feral-sounding groan, Luke’s grip on her shoulders tightened. She felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, felt it slide between their bodies. With him above her, she was wide open to his touch, and he quickly found the tiny knot of nerve endings.

  He stroked her once, then again a little harder.

  “Luke!” she gasped, certain she was going to lose her tenuous grip on him, and thus the world.

  He made a circular motion then, and Amelia felt an unbearable pressure. She moaned, unable to stop the sound. He caressed her again, this time slowing withdrawing. She felt her body clench, trying to keep him, trying to hold him.

  He swirled his finger over that bundle of nerves one more time, and before the incredible sensation could fade, he buried himself in her once more.

  She didn’t lose her hold on the world, it exploded around her. Her body convulsed. It wanted to curl in on itself, so violent were the waves of pleasure. But Luke was there, buried inside her, so all she could do was curl around him, holding, grasping, calling his name as the sheer force of it—and the sound of Luke crying out her name in turn, as he poured himself into her—drove tears from her eyes.

  And when she came back to earth, it didn’t mat
ter that it was shattered, forever changed. Luke was there, and he caught her, held her, cradled her against him. Nothing could be too wrong with her world if he was with her.

  Hours later Amelia stirred sleepily. She’d never felt quite this way before, never known such a delicious exhaustion.

  She wasn’t sure how many times they’d actually made love, was almost sure she must have dreamed some of them. Maybe the time when she’d roused to his hands on her and he’d slid into her the moment he knew she was awake. Or maybe the time she’d awakened him with unstudied but eager caresses, when he’d encouraged her to explore every inch of him with the same thoroughness he’d used on her, when she’d taken the offer of his body with an eagerness that had ended with them both crying out fiercely. Yes, that was likely a dream; she couldn’t really have done that, could she?

  But then again, she thought as she shifted lazily and felt the tenderness of her body in unaccustomed places, maybe she had. If this was the wrong kind of paradise, she wanted to stay here forever.

  She wondered what would happen if she reached for him again; would he be as ready, come to life as wildly under her hands and mouth?

  Worth finding out, she thought with a new confidence gained from knowing that this man, this wild, gorgeous creature, found her so desirable he shook with it.

  She rolled over.

  She reached for him.

  He was gone.

  He should be, Luke thought, drained. Dry. Spent. Amelia had driven him to the point of madness and then beyond. He’d never had such a wild night in his life, and that it was Amelia who had done it only made it more incredible. He shouldn’t even be able to move.

  Yet he was strangely churned up, strung so tight that he’d had to do something. He felt like he did after taking folks on a good run down Cherry Creek for the first time: tired from the exertion, but ablaze with exhilaration. He’d tried to stay still; he didn’t want to disturb Amelia, especially when she lay sleeping close against him so trustingly. But he knew from experience there was only one way to handle this state of mind, and that was to walk it off.

  So here he was, wandering the midnight dark streets of Santiago Beach once more. And thinking.

  He wanted to simply revel in what he and Amelia had found, that incredible fire, but he couldn’t help wondering what would happen now. Walking away from such incredible passion, something he’d never thought to find for himself, seemed impossible. But so did the idea of his rough and tumble world ever melding with Amelia’s quiet existence.

  The river was his life. He tried to picture himself living somewhere else—not even Santiago Beach, necessarily, just anywhere that didn’t have a river to run. It made him ache inside, an echo of the pain he’d battled every day before he’d escaped this place and found his life.

  But picturing himself going back to that life now, never seeing Amelia again, never seeing the flashes of sharp wit dart from behind that reserved mask, never seeing that shy smile, never hearing that sweet laugh again, never having another night like they’d just had…

  He shook his head sharply. He told himself not to think about it, not to tarnish the moment, to concentrate on the here and now. Just think about today, not tomorrow. Once that had been the mantra that had helped him survive; now it seemed sadly ineffective.

  He couldn’t come back here. He knew that. That he was even thinking about it long enough to decide that shocked him. He didn’t even like the idea of coming back periodically, although if that was the only way to see her, he supposed he would just have to get over it. Sure, it was a long ride, seven hours each way, but if he had to, he had to. But seeing her once a week—less during the peak rafting season, when they were all working like crazy every day—didn’t seem a very satisfying solution. Not to mention the guilt. He’d already been gone longer than he’d planned, and he knew Gary had to be doing double duty to make up for his absence.

  He reached Main Street and turned south, toward Amelia’s store for no other reason than that it was hers. He stopped in front of it for a moment, looking in the darkened window. The beach display looked rather eerie in the dark, as if the people who had been reading those books in the sun had vanished by nightfall, leaving everything behind.

  He could just see the corner of her office from here. Heat blasted through him at the memory of what had almost happened there, which brought on an even more powerful memory of what had happened tonight, in that wonderfully wicked bed of hers.

  Keep walking, he told himself, knowing that if he didn’t, he was going to head back to her place at a run, slide back into bed with her and make them both even rawer than they already were from a night of making love as if the sun wasn’t going to rise.

  He walked on, hands jammed in his pockets.

  He couldn’t picture her leaving here. She was settled here, with a business, a house—her parents’ house—why on earth would she leave? And even if she would, what did he have to offer? He lived in a small cabin that wouldn’t hold even half of her things, and—

  He stopped in his tracks, suddenly realizing what he was thinking. Was he ready for this?

  He made himself start walking again.

  The idea of being with Amelia day in and day out was certainly attractive, but he knew she wasn’t the type for a casual affair. When it came down to it, neither was he; he’d gone through a brief stage as a teenager when he’d mistaken sex for love, when he’d found comfort in the closeness to another person, and had hungered for it from whatever girl would give it to him. But he’d soon realized the girls who would give it to him wanted the tough, notorious Luke McGuire, not a boy looking for a comfort he’d never gotten and hadn’t been sure existed.

  Gary and his wife had finally shown him what real love was like, the give and take, the mutual concern, the silent communication, the laughter, the tears, the incredible closeness. He’d lived with their example before him for years now, and had pretty much decided it was a very rare miracle. He had never expected to find a woman who made him think it might be possible for him.

  Love? Was that what he was feeling? He’d never really been in love before. Had never really been able to picture himself together with anyone in the way Gary and Diane were together.

  But he could picture it with Amelia.

  His steps slowed. His mind was instinctively shying away from this revelation, looking for something, anything, else to think about, so he could shove this back into his pack and take it out later, when he was calmer. Later, when he wasn’t still humming with the pleasure of her touch.

  He realized he was nearing the library. That would do, he thought. He would give that crawl space another check. He didn’t have the flashlight, but he should be able to hear if anyone was there, in the nighttime silence.

  He picked up his pace, glad to have the distraction of a destination. He took the shortcut, the walkway that ran between the community center that faced Main Street and the library that faced Cabrillo Street behind it. The notices posted on the community center bulletin board lifted in the slight sea breeze, drawing his eye for a moment.

  His mouth quirked when he saw the flyer for his mother’s speech. He let out a compressed breath, surprised at himself when he realized his main reaction was one of amusement. And for the first time he wondered how much worse his life might have been had she not found this outlet for her hatred.

  He moved on, leaving the flyer behind him.

  He was going to leave the hatred behind him, too, Luke determined as he rounded the corner to head for the library.

  And ran head on into David.

  Chapter 16

  Luke expected David to run when he grabbed his arm, but the boy just stood there. He was clearly startled by his brother’s sudden appearance, but he looked chastened and small somehow, his usual cocky demeanor vanished. There were smudges of dirt on his cheek and jaw, and his clothes were a bit worse for wear. He looked ragged, afraid and exhausted.

  For Luke, it was like looking back in time at himself
, and while he was still pretty peeved at the boy for trying to rip off Amelia, he couldn’t bring himself to vent at him now. Besides, if Amelia could forgive the kid, he certainly could. He was his brother, after all.

  “You win,” he said.

  David looked up. “What?”

  “I didn’t think anybody could be stupider than I was at your age. Obviously I was wrong.”

  That didn’t even get a rise out of him. The boy just lowered his gaze to his shoes again, as if he didn’t even have the energy to fight back anymore. Luke had been there, too, down, beaten, on the edge of giving up. The last of his anger died away. He reached out and put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. He drew the boy over to a bench in the library courtyard. David stiffened, as if he were going to resist sitting down, but then gave in.

  “Good thing being stupid now doesn’t mean you have to be stupid forever,” Luke said.

  David shook his head. Luke sighed. “It doesn’t,” he insisted. “Look, Amelia was pretty upset about the check. She felt…as betrayed as you did when I couldn’t take you to live with me.”

  David’s shoulders shook under his arm. He couldn’t really see the boy’s face, but he could guess what it looked like. His natural urge was to comfort his brother, but he also knew that he would never have a better chance to get through to him. Knew that with all his defenses down, the boy might actually listen, and if he waited until he recovered a little, those defenses would get in the way again. So instead of easing up, he bore down.

  “You know, if you’d needed money that badly and you wouldn’t come to me, you could have asked her. I’ll bet she’d have helped. You didn’t have to steal that check.”

  “I didn’t steal it! I didn’t even know they did it!”

  The words broke from the boy in a rush. He sounded desperate, the kind of desperate Luke knew too well, when nobody would believe you, even when you were telling the truth.

  Maybe Amelia had been right all along about who had taken the check. He decided to push a little more.