Hawk's Prey

by Carole Mortimer

  She stiffened resentfully, having no idea how the movement thrust her pebble-hard nipples against her silk top. ‘As far as I was concerned that particular conversation was over!’

  His mouth thinned as he ran an impatient hand through the thickness of his hair. ‘And as far as I’m concerned it’s barely begun,’ he grated. ‘Every time Geraldine’s name is mentioned you freeze up on me.’

  ‘You know why,’ Whitney glared at him.

  ‘If I did maybe it wouldn’t make me so damned angry,’ he bit out tersely.

  Whitney was past caring, totally disgusted with his method of getting Geraldine back. ‘You’re her lover—’

  ‘Her what?’ he demanded icily, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  Whitney swallowed hard in the face of his anger. ‘ “She has a lover”,’ she mimicked. ‘You’re Geraldine’s lover,’ she said again, challengingly.

  Flames shot out of the golden eyes, Hawk’s hands clenched into fists at his side. ‘I’m no one’s lover,’ he finally grated, seeming to exert tremendous control to stop himself from shaking her until her teeth rattled.

  ‘Why else would you be involved in this if it weren’t for her?’ Whitney scorned. ‘Glyn Briant may think you’re helping him but really you just want Geraldine back. And without her rich second husband she would instinctively turn to you. She already has!’

  Hawk was very pale, his eyes appearing a deeper gold than ever, his body rigid with tension. ‘You can’t really believe that,’ he bit out tautly.

  ‘Of course I believe it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise,’ she derided contemptuously.

  Hawk drew in a ragged breath. ‘Come here to me, Whitney, and we’ll see who’s lover I am!’

  Her eyes were widely startled as she stared at him with apprehension. ‘Hawk—’

  ‘I said, come here, damn it!’ he bit out, the fire in his eyes pulling her towards him even as she shook her head in protest. His mouth twisted tauntingly as she stood in front of him. ‘With the experience you claim to have you should be able to tell I haven’t had a woman in more months than I care to think about, let alone made love to my ex-wife!’

  ‘Then why—’

  ‘I’m not in the mood to answer any more accusations, Whitney,’ he rasped, his arms drawing her in to him. ‘I’ve taken all I’m going to from you the last few days!’

  He intended to make love to her, she could see it in his eyes, and she swayed weakly against him. Even if she only had this one time with him to remember it would be better than the nothing she had lived with for so long.

  But a last-minute thought made her hesitate, Hawk’s eyes becoming as cold as ice. ‘Hawk—’

  ‘I know exactly who you are, Whitney,’ he grated. ‘It’s time you learnt who I am.’

  ‘But I know—’

  ‘No,’ he cut in slowly. ‘I don’t think you do! I’m a man, just a man, and I make mistakes just like other men. I laugh, I cry, I feel. It’s time I came down off that pedestal you’re so frightened I might be falling off,’ he grated harshly.

  She had never put him on a pedestal, she was all too aware of how mortal he was, but before she could tell him any of that his mouth had moved possessively over hers. Then she didn’t want to talk any more, her body melting into his, her lids closing instinctively over smoky violet eyes.

  Hawk dragged his mouth across her cheek and down the length of her throat, pushing aside the material there to search the silky hollows. Whitney’s head fell back to allow him easy access to her heated skin, clinging to the broadness of his shoulders as rivulets of pleasure claimed her body.

  His hands shook slightly as he released the buttons on the silk jacket. ‘God, this is so damned sexy,’ he groaned as the material dropped noiselessly to the floor. ‘No other woman could have looked as sexy.’ His hands moved over her restlessly from breast to thigh.

  The fact that he had at last called her a woman didn’t go unnoticed by Whitney. It was what she had always wanted, her eyes glowing as she met his gaze. ‘You make me feel that way, Hawk,’ she told him huskily. ‘Only you.’

  He didn’t answer, intent on the rosy peaks pushed so eagerly against his mouth, releasing the single button on her pyjama trousers even as he took one fiery nub into his mouth, his hands firm on her hips as the trousers slid in a lilac pool at her feet.

  The feel of his lips and tongue on her aching breasts was ecstasy.

  Hawk’s hands shook as he held her, his breath a ragged rasp, a flush of passion in his cheeks as he raised his head to fuse his mouth with hers once more, his hands instruments of torture now as his fingertips barely grazed the aching fullness of her breasts, almost sobbing her need for his deeper caresses as she leaned into him heavily.

  ‘Oh God, please, Hawk,’ she choked. ‘Please!’

  The bed felt soft against her back as he laid her down on the sheet, throwing his own clothes to the floor, his fiery gaze, flames flickering in the depths of his eyes, never leaving her flushed and wanting face.

  Her body caught fire at the touch of Hawk’s as he lay beside her, one hand cupping her cheek as he claimed her mouth. His body was lean and yet muscular, perfectly matched to hers as he moved restlessly above her.

  His caresses had inflamed her, made her weak with longing, and yet as she felt his thighs probing against hers she knew she wasn’t yet ready for this intrusion. But Hawk was in the throes of a desire he couldn’t control, that drove him on to possession, his mouth on hers as he claimed her pain as his own, groaning low in his throat as he entered her completely, their bodies merged.

  For a moment Whitney felt invaded rather than loved, sure she couldn’t accommodate the strength of him. But her body had other ideas, accepting him, encouraging him, the sensual warmth making her taut with desire as she began to move beneath him.

  As the rhythm became a crescendo, the fire in her body raging out of control, she clung to his shoulders as her support, desperate to reach that inferno that would claim them both into its depth. And then it was too late for her, Hawk gasping his own release, his body taut before he lay damply against her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he groaned. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He buried his face against her throat.

  Her disappointment at not reaching that pinnacle with him faded in the knowledge that she had at least given him pleasure, and she caressed the dampness of his back with soothing movements. Whether Hawk accepted the fact or not, she belonged to him now, and she was happy.

  His eyes were dark with pain as he raised his head to look down at her. ‘There were no other lovers for you, Whitney.’ It was a statement, not a question, her virginity seconds ago never in doubt.

  ‘No,’ she smiled.

  ‘I hurt you,’ he rasped self-disgustedly.

  ‘Just a little.’ She didn’t lie, knew he had felt her pain.

  ‘And after hurting you I didn’t even have the control to give you the pleasure you gave me.’ He rolled on his back at her side, one arm flung across his eyes. ‘That hasn’t happened to me since I was a teenager and I realised lovemaking wasn’t the selfish thing I’d imagined it to be! I made better love when I was seventeen years old than I did to you just now!’

  Whitney knew there had been plenty of women in Hawk’s life before his marriage to Geraldine, guessed that the married couple had been happy enough physically at the start of their marriage at least, and she didn’t resent any of the women he had known, because minutes ago Hawk had shown her by his very lack of control that there hadn’t been any other women for a very long time, that he certainly hadn’t made love to Geraldine the previous night.

  The dark hair on his chest was curling damply against his bronzed skin, his jaw rigid with tension beneath his upraised arm. She moved to caress the hardness of his jaw with her lips even as her fingers entangled in the thick dark hair, feeling the hardness of his nipples beneath her touch, his chest ceasing all movement before his breath was released in a ragged sigh.

  ‘Whitney—’

  ‘
Give to me, Hawk,’ she encouraged throatily. ‘Give to me now!’

  His arm lowered as he looked at her with darkened eyes. ‘I’m not sure that I can,’ he moaned. ‘Contrary to what they would have us believe men aren’t sexual athletes; I need time to recuperate.’

  She may have been a virgin but she wasn’t naïve; she knew that she could make Hawk want her again with caressing patience. And they had all night.

  Her hair lay like a dark curtain against his body as she slowly began to kiss him, feeling his body tense before he relaxed with a sigh of pleasure, that tension once again evident as she moved with light kisses towards his thighs.

  ‘Whitney!’

  ‘Let me.’ Her eyes were dark pools of need. She wanted nothing else but to give this man pleasure, to bind him to her with the only ties he would allow.

  His head fell back against the pillows in defeat, helpless beneath her caresses, each one bolder than the last, until he pulled her back above him, taking one taut nipple into his mouth as it curved so temptingly towards him.

  Now he was once again the master, his caresses like nothing she had ever imagined, tense with need as he kissed her, fast approaching that fiery release that had eluded her before. This time she felt an increase of that desire as his thighs took the place of his lips, no longer fearful of her ability to take him inside her, feeling as if he were the perfect half to herself.

  And then she wasn’t thinking at all, fire claiming her in a nerve-ending burst that set aflame her whole body, crying out her pleasure to Hawk, feeling his warmth as he joined her in the ecstasy.

  This time Hawk was the one to comfort her, although his hands were unsteady as he held her against his side, spasms of passion still wracking his body, his breathing ragged.

  ‘What have I done?’ he suddenly groaned.

  ‘What have we done?’ she corrected huskily, her body awash with lethargy.

  ‘I didn’t just step down off that pedestal, I smashed it to pieces!’ he rasped disgustedly.

  She wasn’t going to give him the time to regret what had happened between them, knew that if she did he would leave her. And she would have this one night with him if nothing else. She had loved him too much and for too long to give up this time with him.

  ‘Come and wash my back for me,’ she encouraged throatily, getting out of bed to hold our her hand for him to join her.

  His eyes darkened as he saw the physical evidence of his lovemaking, the paleness of her skin showing signs in places of being grazed by the stubble on his jaw, her nipples a rosy red from his heated ministration, her eyes heavy with passion. It was the last that was his undoing, as he slowly followed her to the bathroom.

  Their shower together led to yet more lovemaking, as Whitney had hoped that it would, and afterwards they fell into an exhausted sleep, still wrapped in each other’s arms.

  It was the feeling that something was different that woke her, the sunlight showing against the curtained window showing her it was morning. Hawk was still curved into the back of her body, hadn’t left her while she slept as she had dreaded he would. His hand rested possessively on her breast, the gentle throb of his lower body telling her that he would soon wake to initiate another bout of the fiery lovemaking they had made their own.

  And then she realised what had woken her, what was different. The yacht’s engines were going; they were moving!

  Hawk came awake instantly as she turned to him, a shutter coming down over his emotions after his initial flare of pleasure at seeing her in his arms. ‘What is it?’ He frowned.

  ‘We’re moving.’ She looked puzzled. ‘I thought you said—’

  ‘A change in plans.’ He turned away from her to swing his legs out of bed, his broad back to her as he spoke again. ‘That was what I came to talk to you about last night.’ He ran a hand through the tousled lightness of his hair. ‘I seem to have been side-tracked.’ He sighed heavily.

  ‘But where are we going?’ she frowned.

  ‘Europe.’

  ‘Europe?’ she echoed dazedly. ‘Where in Europe?’

  He stood up to begin pulling on his clothes. ‘I thought that as we have guests—’

  ‘Guests?’ she echoed again, feeling a little like an annoying child, and it was the last thing she wanted to be to Hawk now. But ‘guests’ could only mean one thing. ‘You mean Tom Beresford and Geraldine are still on board?’ Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

  Hawk didn’t quite meet her gaze as he at last turned to face her. ‘Yes!’ he bit out.

  ‘But why?’

  He looked at her coldly. ‘They’re my guests,’ he maintained firmly.

  ‘And I’m expected to behave myself around them,’ she realised dully.

  ‘Yes,’ he rasped. ‘Now I have to get back to my own suite before any of them starts wandering about.’

  ‘Why?’ she said bitterly, falling back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. ‘They all think we’re lovers anyway.’

  ‘They may think it,’ Hawk snapped. ‘But that doesn’t mean we have to confirm it!’

  ‘I would have thought it would only have convinced them of our relationship if they knew you spent the night with me,’ she said dully.

  ‘Whitney,’ he reasoned impatiently. ‘Last night wasn’t planned—’

  ‘I know that,’ she sighed heavily. ‘But why have they stayed on board? Geraldine gets seasick at the sight of water!’

  ‘She may do, but she’s still on board.’ Hawk looked grim.

  ‘You still haven’t told me why,’ she persisted.

  He shook his head regretfully. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘No,’ she accepted with a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t suppose you can.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHAT followed had to be the strangest day she had ever known. Geraldine was once again plagued with seasickness and was confined to her cabin, only highlighting the fact that there was something strange about the Beresfords being on board.

  Because of the other woman’s absence, Whitney was left alone in the company of the four men. If they could be called company! Hawk was in an uncommunicative, brooding mood, watching her when he didn’t think she was aware of it. Tom Beresford was his usual arrogantly charming self, and although Alex Cordell and Glyn Briant looked as if they might have been better company the two men kept themselves pretty much in the background of things.

  They were a strange collection of people, and by mid-afternoon Whitney was totally confused as to how she should act with each individual, wondering if it were only Glyn Briant and Hawk in on this plan to arrest Tom Beresford, or if Alex Cordell were in on it, too. When she said she intended to go and sunbathe on deck he was the only one to suggest joining her, and then she was sure it was only out of politeness because no one else offered.

  He was a man of medium height, medium build, with short brown hair, and dark brown eyes; in fact there was nothing in the least daunting about him. Whitney couldn’t help wondering how he had come to be involved in Tom Beresford’s organisation, let alone become what amounted to no more than a bodyguard!

  ‘I’m a judo expert,’ he drawled as he sensed her scrutiny.

  Whitney felt her cheeks flush with colour, glad she was wearing sunglasses to shield the embarrassed dismay in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘It’s just that you seem an intelligent man…I’m sorry.’ She pulled a face. ‘That sounded very rude!’

  He laughed, looking younger than the late thirties or early forties he must be, a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes now. ‘I’m not in the least offended,’ he told her easily. ‘Some of us make our living with our brawn, some of us with our brains.’ He shrugged. ‘We all do what we do the best.’

  She nodded. ‘My father raced motor cycles; I wouldn’t exactly call that cerebral!’

  ‘So did Mr Hawkworth,’ he acknowledged. ‘But he’s proved he can use his brawn and his brain.’

  Her expression softened as she thought of the man she loved. ‘Yes.
I don’t suppose—’

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  She frowned up at Glyn Briant for his intrusion, having felt she could relax with Alex Cordell in a way she hadn’t been able to with anyone else all day.

  ‘Have my lounger,’ Alex instantly offered, standing up. ‘It’s time one of us checked on Mrs Beresford’s welfare anyway.’

  Whitney watched him go with some regret. Hawk and Glyn had told her enough of what was happening to put her mind at rest about Hawk’s involvement with Tom Beresford, but they hadn’t told her enough to stop her feeling like a fish floundering out of water, and she had a feeling they weren’t going to either!

  ‘Enjoying the cruise?’ Glyn drawled, making himself comfortable beside her.

  ‘Not particularly,’ she snapped, not even looking at him. ‘Did you leave Hawk trying to malign himself even more for your sake?’ she scorned.

  ‘Hawk told me he would be able to handle you,’ he muttered.

  Her mouth twisted mockingly. ‘Life is full of these little disappointments!’

  ‘Whitney,’ he sighed, his barely contained impatience forcing her to look at him. ‘Behave yourself, or Hawk could be the one that gets hurt.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Are you threatening me?’ she gasped wonderingly.

  ‘No,’ he denied wearily. ‘I doubt that would do any good in your case. But I wish to God you had stayed out of this as you were supposed to!’

  ‘Now that I know Hawk’s involved it wouldn’t be possible,’ she shook her head.

  ‘If you really love him,’ Glyn rasped, ‘then don’t fight him, help him.’

  ‘I would,’ she groaned forcefully. ‘If I just knew what was going on!’

  Glyn gave a frustrated sigh. ‘Can’t you just trust him?’ he prompted.

  ‘I do trust him,’ she stated flatly.

  ‘But not me,’ he guessed, his mouth twisting. ‘I realise I’d never win any medals for diplomacy,’ he derided, ‘but I’m good at my job—’

  ‘Just what is your job?’ she demanded frowningly.