But when he reached for the snap of her jeans she tightened her body again. Her eyes still held flashes of terror, and in that moment he could have killed Alex Rowland.
"If you let me take off your jeans, I'll let you undress me,” he teased in a low voice.
"Hawk.” His name was like a song on her lips.
He trailed his tongue over the skin above the waistband of her jeans as he opened the snap and slowly lowered the zipper. Pressing his mouth to her skin he slowly pushed the denim fabric down her legs to her ankles.
"Step out of them, Maggie.” His voice was so hoarse he didn't even recognize it.
She lifted her feet, one at a time, pushing the jeans away with one small foot, leaving her in a tiny scrap of lace. Hawk feasted on her with his eyes. Narrow waist, flaring hips, thighs he could sink his fingers into. And dark curls a shadow below her navel. To him she was perfection.
He wanted to tear the tiny panties away but he was sure she'd run screaming if he did. He took his time sliding them off, as he'd done with the jeans. When she was naked, he moved her thighs apart and glided his finger from the hard, erogenous knot at the top of the tight, wet opening guarded by the soft-as-satin lips of her sex. She was dripping wet, but taut as a bow.
"Easy, princess,” he said in a low, husky voice. He lifted his hand and licked the tip of his finger. “I knew you'd taste like peaches and strawberries. Better."
"You said I could undress you,” she whispered, her breathing jerky and uneven. “Fair is fair."
He held his arms straight out from his sides. “Have at it, darlin'."
Her fingers shook so badly as she pulled at his t-shirt he almost offered to help her, but he knew it was important for her to do this by herself. She tossed the shirt to the side and ran the tips of her fingers through the thick pelt of hair on his chest. He shuddered at her touch, his blood like liquid heat in his veins.
When she found his nipples and raked her nails over him he was sure he'd lose it. He gritted his teeth, determined to hang onto his control. This was all about Maggie, not him.
He let her explore his chest to her heart's delight, forcing himself not to touch her, letting her feel comfortable with him, show her she had nothing to fear. When she reached for the waistband of his jeans he lifted his hips as if they'd been doing this forever.
Avoiding his eyes, she remembered to pull off his boot plus the sock on the bootless foot before dragging his jeans down and dropping them on the floor. He watched her eyes drawn as if by a magnet to the tent his erection was making in his boxers, and forced himself not to smile.
"One more piece of clothing, princess,” he urged, determined she wouldn't stop now. “Let me help you."
"No!” She almost shouted the word.
Her hands grasped the elastic of the waist and pushed the fabric down beneath his butt. When it reached his thighs his swollen shaft popped up in all its glory.
Maggie gasped and stood there, paralyzed.
Now Hawk did smile. “It's all yours, darlin', to do with as you wish. Yank those shorts off and come here."
When she'd finished removing his boxers, in a daze, he levered himself into the middle of the bed, reached out a hand and pulled her onto it with him.
"Here's how we'll do this, princess.” He hoped his voice didn't sound as raw to her as it did to him. “You're in control. We go at your pace. Any time you have a problem, you let me know."
She drew in a very shaky breath. “Hawk, I don't know how to do this. I'm so afraid."
"Nothing to be afraid of, Maggie. Everything will be fine. Come on."
He guided her gently to straddle him. His hands reached up to cradle her breasts, his thumbs chafing the ripe nipples. She sucked in her breath at his touch and her hips hitched closer to his groin. He felt the wetness from her sex against his testicles and nearly grabbed her and dropped her onto him.
Slow, Riley. Very slow.
He pulled each nipple in its turn, bringing it to his mouth, taking his time licking and suckling. The new plastic cast gave his hand more mobility and allowed him to knead her breasts, to feel the warm, satiny skin. Each time he pulled on a nipple he felt her tense, and he soothed her with his hands and with low, murmured words.
Little by little she relaxed into him, until a new kind of tension took hold of her.
"Okay, princes?” he asked. If she says no, I'll kill myself.
"So far.” Her voice sounded far away. “Just don't let go of me, Hawk."
"Not for a minute, baby. Not for one minute."
He used every bit of skill he possessed to ease her, soothe her, seduce her. He knew the liquor had taken the edge off. Now it was up to him to keep it that way.
When he felt her responding to him, he was sure someone had given him a rare and precious gift. Unexpectedly tears clouded his eyes. He blinked them rapidly away, hoping Maggie hadn't seen them.
"I'm going to slide my fingers into you now, Maggie. Any time it hurts you, let me know."
Moving his hands lower, he peeled back the lips to her sex, revealing slick pink flesh that made his mouth water. He stroked her with his fingers, finding the hard bundle of nerves and massaging it with the lightest touch he could manage.
Maggie began to moan, her eyes closed, her face flushed. Tentatively he slid one finger inside her hot sheath. When she jerked he stopped, watching her and waiting.
"Okay?” he asked.
She bit her lip and nodded. He could see her battling the fear that had lain dormant inside her for so long, the terror that a man's touch brought to her. Again he could have killed Alex Rowland.
"This is supposed to give you pleasure, Maggie. It's not a torture test."
"I know, I know. It's okay, don't stop.” Her hands gripped her thighs.
Praying for guidance to a God he'd ignored for so long, he slipped a second finger inside her, then reached up and pulled her head down to him. As his mouth feasted on hers, his tongue searching every inch of it, he began to move his fingers in a steady rhythm. His thumb continued to ply the quivering knot of nerves. In a moment he could feel her begin to ride his hand, her movement increasing rapidly as he worked her harder and harder.
He felt the edge of her climax rising. She broke the kiss and threw her head back. And then, with a long, keening sigh, she convulsed around him, her muscles tightening hard around his fingers, her juices spilling into the palm of his hand. He hoped she didn't fall forward onto his shaft and break it, as hard as it was.
He worked her even when the spasms had quieted and her body began to settle down. With his free hand he stroked her arm, her shoulder, her breasts, waiting for her eyes to focus and meet his. When they did, he smiled at her.
"Not too bad, right?"
"Oh, my God?’ she gasped. “I've never had that before. And you were so gentle."
Hawk wanted to call down every curse he knew on her ex-husband. How criminal to abuse a woman with so much to give. Her pleasure humbled him.
"Let's kick it up a notch, princess.” He took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his erection, moving it twice up and down. “Touch it, Maggie. Feel it. Don't let it scare you.” He took her thumb and moved it over the swollen head, rubbing the drop of pearly fluid beading there over the slit. “You're in control, okay."
She swallowed and nodded.
"Okay, then. Let me guide you.” He put his hands firmly on her hips and lifted her to just the right height. “All right, Maggie. Take me in your hand and guide me home. I won't hurt you. Remember. I promised."
With lust and fear warring in her eyes, she grabbed his erection and slowly, slowly, guided him into herself. When he felt all that hot flesh clutching around him he very nearly lost it. But he called on every bit of restraint he possessed until he was fully seated inside her and she let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"It ... feels good,” she breathed.
"It'll feel better in a minute.” Using the strength of his hands, glad that his injured arm was not giving him too m
uch trouble, he showed her how to ride him, to move on him, to set a rhythm. Her eyes opened wide, staring into his, as she began to move on her own. Up and down, back and forth. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her skin. Hawk was sweating plenty himself.
"This is so ... unbelievable,” she whispered. “Oh, my God, Hawk. Oh, my God."
"That's it, baby. Come on."
She began to increase the pace, and Hawk moved his hips to meet each downward thrust of her body. He felt a tingle at the base of his spine, and a tightness in his testicles. He was so close.
Hurry up, Maggie. Please.
As if she'd heard him, she moved down on him hard. Once, twice. Three times, then screamed as her orgasm broke over her, and Hawk went off like a rocket inside her. She shivered and shook above him, milking him with her inner muscles, flooding him with her liquid heat.
He thought he would never stop coming, but at last she'd pulled every drop from him, her own climax fading into aftershocks as she fell forward onto his chest. He felt her heart thudding against him, his own answering just as loudly. For a long moment the only sound in the room was the two of them dragging air into their lungs.
Maggie Devereaux was truly the most amazing woman he had ever met in his life. He would gladly die tomorrow for the promise of making her his. Just feeling her muscles grip him, her soft skin against his, her silken mouth melding with his, was more than he ever could have asked.
"Are you okay?” he asked after a long time.
Maggie lifted her head, her eyes filled with glowing wonder. “I think all right is too mild an expression to describe what I feel. I was so scared, Hawk, but you told me to trust you, and I did.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I never knew ... She shook her head. “I wish this was ... real."
"It is real, princess. At least for right now. And we aren't half finished."
Chapter Twelve
Maggie strode out of the house just as the sun rose, a mug of coffee in her hands, ponytail bouncing with each determined step. God what a fool she'd made of herself. Two drinks and she'd fallen into bed with Hawk Riley.
Her cheeks heated as she remembered the things they'd done. Things Alex had never even thought of. Of course, with Alex sex was merely a form of physical torture. Hawk had shown her the infinite pleasure a man and woman could share. Had made her understand that sex could be enjoyed. That satisfaction and gratification could make a person want more. A lot more.
And then of course she'd made that stupid statement about wishing this was real. Yeah, right. Didn't she remember who she was in bed with? She could just imagine what he thought of that. If she didn't want him leaving right now she'd better let him know she didn't mean what she said. And to forget about last night. Everything about it.
Well, what did she expect, anyway? This was a business deal, even if he had told her from the beginning they couldn't ignore the fire between them.
Last night he'd opened his soul to her and then given her a very precious gift. He'd taught her she could be a woman, without fear. Without terror. That sex could bring her great pleasure. That would have to hold her. No happy endings for Maggie Devereaux.
She'd just have to keep out of his way this morning until she could figure out what to say to him.
* * * *
Hawk awoke, disoriented, wondering where he was as he looked at the strange surroundings. Then it came back to him. All of it. Last night. True confessions. Two drinks. Maggie in his arms. The most incredible sex he'd ever had in his long, miserable life. Just thinking of it made his body tingle and his shaft swell and throb.
He could still taste her on his lips. Still feel the silken muscles of her hot sheath grasping at his tongue as he probed her over and over again, her liquid spilling onto his tongue with yet another shattering climax. Oral sex had never before been like that.
And then Maggie, emboldened by the pleasure he'd given her, had returned the favor. The moment her soft lips had closed over his erection he knew he'd died and gone to heaven.
But now it was the cold light of day and he wondered just what the hell he'd done. He'd wanted her from that first day, but like always, he hadn't thought beyond the moment.
He reached his arm out but the other side of the bed was empty. Of course. She was up and out, obviously not sure how to face him in the daylight. Well, he was right there with her.
Last night she'd said she wished this was real. Well, God, so did he. Very slowly he'd been falling in love with Maggie Devereaux, fighting it every inch of the way. She didn't need someone like him. How could she not realize what poison he was?
She certainly knew his history of brawling and drinking for the past ten years, a legacy of instability. And after last night's confession she had to realize he was no prize package. When her brain kicked into gear again, she'd realize what a loser he was. Maybe even regret the small bargain they'd made.
What he'd done last night had been selfish on his part. An itch he'd needed to scratch. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to find such a magical quality or the profound effect it had on him. He had to get the hell away from here.
Clumsily pulling on his clothes, another thought his him like a sledgehammer. In his broken down state, carried away by the moment, he hadn't thought to use protection. Maybe Maggie was on the Pill. God, he hoped so. But if there were consequences he'd figure out how to deal with it. Yeah, right. Just like he did everything else.
Okay. He had to get away from here and think. Shoving his foot into the one boot he could wear, he made his way downstairs as quietly as he could. Good. Everyone was outside. In the den he filled the flask he'd stuck in his pocket with some of the Jack Daniels from the night before, sticking it under his shirt.
He didn't see Maggie in the yard or the entrance to the barn. Again, good. Luck stayed with him as he managed to saddle Jocko without running into anyone. One of the benefits of a busy ranch—no one stood around idle.
He hoisted himself into the saddle, loped out of the garage and headed toward the hill past the north pasture. What he need was to get good and drunk so when he told Maggie what a mistake it all was she'd see what he really was and be grateful he was leaving.
As he headed out of the yard he nearly ran down Maggie and Charlie, walking from the training arena.
"Hawk?” Her face had a strange look of shock and embarrassment. Her eyes were full of questions.
He ignored her, gave Jocko his head and flew across the grassland. He just had to get out of there. Just get away. Figure out how to straighten out the latest mess he'd made.
Oh, yeah, right. The drunken bum Hawk Riley coming up with answers.
He and Jocko were both sweating and panting when he reached a rocky ridge halfway up the distant hill. He managed to get himself out of the saddle, tie Jocko to a tree and lie down next to it. He pulled out the flask and took a long, slow pull. What ever made him think he could clean up, anyway?
Before long his eyes closed and he drifted off, the faint sound of hoof beats echoing from a distance, and the familiar hawk circling overhead.
* * * *
"Where the hell is he going in such a hurry?” Charlie asked, staring after Hawk.
Maggie shrugged, trying for as much nonchalance as possible. “Maybe to check on the horses in the north pasture."
"Without a word to anyone?” Charlie's eyes probed her face.
Maggie avoided his eyes and turned back toward the barn. “I'm sure he was just in a hurry."
Charlie grabbed her arm. “Mags, I've known you since you were in diapers. What's wrong here? Something happened, right? That asshole Riley's finally showing his true colors. Damn it.” He kicked a stone. “I knew this would happen. I should kick his ass from here to El Paso."
"Nothing happened. Everything's fine.” She tugged her arm free and walked away, Charlie's eyes boring into her back.
Well, Maggie, so much for faint romantic hopes. What did you expect? That he'd greet you with a big kiss this morning? He didn't mince an
y words with you. Last night had to only be about pity. And your little burst of emotion probably scared the shit out of him.
She wouldn't cry. She'd finished with all that long ago. She just hoped she could convince him to stay and finish out their arrangement. Owen Grainer wasn't done with his tricks yet. Not to mention the immense knowledge he'd been passing along in the training of the cutting horses.
As she moved into the second hand one of the hands, a fairly new one, brushed past her in a hurry.
"Sorry.” He tugged his had lower and broke out into a fast trot toward the parking area. Maggie went outside and watched him, puzzled. Something wasn't right.
She found Charlie at the corral, watching one of the barrel racers work in solitary concentration.
"Just getting in a little extra practice,” she told Maggie. “There's a still a lesson going on in the arena."
"No problem.” Maggie turned to Charlie. “The weirdest thing just happened. One of the new hands practically knocked me down hurrying out of the barn, then peeled rubber getting out of here. Do we have some kind of emergency I don't know about? Did you send him somewhere?"
Charlie frowned. “No. He's supposed to be working with the horses in barn two.” Suddenly he wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell that?"
"Smell what?"
But she didn't have to ask. Harley raced out of the barn, screaming at the top of his voice. “Fire! Fire in barn two. Get the hoses. The hay's going up like dry wood."
Maggie's stomach roiled and her heart sank, as she raced to round everyone up and get the horses out of danger.
* * * *
The hoof beats were louder now, almost on top of him, but he was unable to move. Across his brain flashed the vision of a thundering herd of cattle, horns shiny, hooves sharp, trailing a dust cloud. Driving them a band of cowboys, red-eyed and worn out, who looked as if they'd ridden straight from hell. One of them, on a giant black stallion, pulled up next to him.
Shadow of the Hawk [Wayback Texas Series] Page 8