Windy's heart all but melted. He does want to be loved, she thought, and he wants to love back. He just doesn't know how. She studied his eyes, the longing and the need. Sky was fighting his emotions. Windy realized she meant more to him than a wistful sexual partner. Sky had begun to fall in love with her, and the unfamiliar feeling frightened him.
"We've only known each other for a little over a month," she said, taking care with her words. She would give him time, just as Edith had suggested. "It's too soon to talk about a future."
"I'm leaving in September, Windy."
"I know, but we can keep in touch," she said, although that wasn't the sentiment in her heart. She wanted him to live with her forever.
"Where do you plan on going?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don't usually make plans. And it depends on how much of my memory returns, or if it ever does."
"You'd like to search for your roots."
"Yeah, something like that." He stood and rolled his shoulders, appearing even more exhausted. "I'm gonna get some sleep." He leaned forward and touched one of her renegade curls. "I'm sorry I made you worry, Pretty Windy. And I'm sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to, it's just … well, you know."
Yes, she knew. She sent him a gentle smile and watched him head down the hall. He loved her. In his own tortured way—Sky loved her.
Windy placed her hand against her heart, felt the beats intensify. She would not let Skyler go, not now that she knew he was falling in love with her. Somehow, some way, she would keep him, convince him to stay.
Windy headed to her own room, her steps light. Tonight she would dream of happily ever after. And before September she would make that dream come true.
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Another year older, Windy thought as she gazed at her reflection. She stood in her bedroom, dressed in a cream-colored silk blouse and pleated pants—her going-out-with-a-girlfriend look. Comfortable yet stylish.
A knock sounded and she smiled. It had to be Sky. She opened the door.
"Hi." He stood there grinning boyishly, a small box in his hand. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you." She glanced down at the wrapped package. "Is that for me?"
"Uh-huh." He handed her the gift and walked into her room.
Windy held the brightly wrapped package. "You already baked me a cake. You didn't have to get me something, too." Edith had arrived earlier that day with a delicious chocolate cake in tow, claiming Sky had helped bake it.
Both of his dimples surfaced. "Edith did most of the work. Pretty much all I did was lick the spoon."
She laughed, adoring his smile and the dimples that endeared it. "Well, it's the thought that counts."
"You look nice," he said, examining her appearance. "I like your top. It suits you."
"Thanks." The silk blouse boasted a simple adornment: tiny gold buttons. "It's one of my favorites, too." She touched the glossy red bow on the gift he'd given her. Her heart lunged. "Can I open this now?"
"Sure. It's your present."
Windy sat on the edge of her bed and removed the bow from atop the box. "I recycle bows and ribbons," she said. "It's such a waste to throw them away when it's so easy to use them again."
He arched one black eyebrow. "You don't save the paper, too, do you?"
"No." She grinned and tore off the wrapping, then opened the jewelry-style box. Her heart skipped an excited beat. A flash of gold sparkled: a delicate ID bracelet. She lifted the bracelet off the cotton pad, jangled the chain, then brought the smooth plate forward to read the inscription: "Hēŕus Hotv'letv."
Windy looked up at Sky.
"It means Pretty Windy in the Muskokee language," he explained.
She traced the words with her finger and gazed at him through blurred vision. Tears had already begun to collect in her eyes. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him breathless, taste his tongue, run her hands through his midnight hair. "Thank you. This is beautiful. You are such a special man."
Although he shrugged, he smiled, clearly pleased with her emotional response. "There's an inscription on the back, too."
Turning the bracelet over she discovered a smaller script that read: "Happy birthday, Love, Sútv."
"So this is your name in Muskokee?"
He nodded. "It's pronounced Sootuh."
She secured the bracelet around her wrist and studied the front inscription again: "Hēŕus Hotv'letv." "How do you say Pretty Windy?"
"Heroos Hotuh-letuh," he said, making her Muskokee name sound guttural and sexy. "In Windy, the V translates like a short English U, as in but."
And the O was long, she noticed, and the E short. "Do you remember this from your childhood?"
"No. I bought a Muskokee dictionary to see if any of the words were familiar. The only one that struck a chord was Sútv—Sky. Maybe my parents used to call me by my Creek name once in a while."
Windy smiled. It was an exotic, beautiful name, she thought, just like the man. "Where are the Creeks from?"
"They started off in Georgia and Alabama, but were moved to Indian Territory in Oklahoma in the winter of 1836 and '37."
"So you might be from Oklahoma?"
"Seems likely, but not all the Creek population still lives there. And until I remember what my real last name is, there's no point in trying to second-guess where I came from."
Windy stood and moved closer to him. "Thank you again for the bracelet. I'll never take it off."
"Good." He skimmed a calloused finger across her cheek "Then I'll know that you'll never forget about me."
And that was the idea, she realized. He'd given her a gift to remember him by, and the Creek names engraved upon it made it especially personal. Forget about him? That wasn't possible. She'd love him until her dying day. And she wanted him. Now. On her birthday. In her bed.
The jungle-printed allure of her room cried out for him. He belonged amid the other wild creatures—the paintings of panthers and lions, the faux leopard quilt and zebra pillows. A tingle shivered her spine. All she had to do was step closer and kiss him. Unbutton his denim shirt, caress that bronze chest, press her hips against the front of those faded jeans.
Seduce him, a voice in her head whispered.
Windy smiled. Yes, she would seduce him. Late tonight, in her room with moonlight dancing across the bed. She wanted to be Skyler's lover, helpmate and lifelong partner.
"Enjoy your birthday celebration," he said.
"What?"
"With your teacher friend."
"Oh, I will," she answered, certain this would be the most incredible night of her life.
* * *
When Windy arrived home late that evening, she soaked in a tub filled with vanilla-scented bath oil, covered a new baby-doll nightie with a matching silk robe and headed straight for Tequila's cage before she lost her nerve. She intended to seduce Sky without him knowing it was intentional. After all, they had shared a bed the last time the snake was loose. So why not tonight?
"All right." She breathed heavily and peered into the snake's domain. "Here goes."
With a catch in her throat, she removed the metal bolt, placed her hands on the screened top of the terrarium and lifted it as quickly as possible. The curious gray reptile raised itself to inspect the open space. Windy cringed and jumped back.
Poised at the rim of the container, Tequila flicked her tongue steadily as she lifted her striped head. Oh, no. Windy wrung her hands together as the snake slid from the cage and moved in a slow but determined manner toward her.
Remaining perfectly still, she watched five feet of dark gray muscle-mass coil around her bare feet. Quiet, she told herself. Stay calm. Stay quiet. The plans she had for this evening did not include screaming like a banshee.
"Go away," she whispered in a stiff voice, remembering Sky had said this friendly reptile understood English. Or was it Spanish?
Since English was the only language Windy knew, and this enormous beast looked much too cont
ent at her feet, she pleaded with it. "Please, Tequila, go away. Go hide."
Instead of departing, the friendly snake raised itself to test the hem of Windy's flowing robe with the top of its head. If she climbs up my leg, I'll die. Faint dead away. When Windy heard Sky's husky but groggy voice, she knew this brilliant plan was sinking fast.
He stumbled into the living room wearing a pair of button fly jeans, not quite buttoned. "What's going on out here?"
She feigned innocence. "Tequila got loose."
Sky looked down at her feet, and Windy knew he struggled not to laugh. How very like him, she thought. Here she stood a failed seductress, and he had the audacity to be amused.
He moved closer. "Hmm. I wonder how Tequila managed to knock that bolt out of place. I'm sure it was secure."
Oh, good grief. "I don't know, but do you think you could get her away from me?" Windy asked in a voice wavering on hysteria. By now Tequila had decided to share a warm spot inside her robe.
With a slight grin, Sky plopped himself down on the floor next to the snake.
"Nice robe." He reached underneath, removed the snake's curious head and brushed a calloused hand against Windy's leg.
Tequila went slithering back to her cage, but Sky didn't move. He remained on his knees, at Windy's feet. The belt dangling from her robe caught his attention. With a mischievous grin, he pulled it. The peach garment fluttered before it opened.
Windy shuddered as Sky's hands traveled up her bare legs, caressing their way to her thighs. "Tell me why you opened Tequila's cage," he said, toying with the lace hem on her nightie.
"You know why." Surely he must have figured it out. He must have seen her lift the top on the cage.
"Say it. I need to hear you say it."
"Oh … I…" She looked down to see him looking up. An enigmatic smile and two dangerous blue eyes seemed to be awaiting their feminine feast. A current of electricity ripped through her. "I was hoping you'd sleep in my room."
"Why?" The smile widened, baring white teeth that seemed eager to nip.
"Because I want you to make love to me." Her breathy response brought Sky to his feet.
"Pretty, Pretty Windy," he whispered, as he lifted the hem of her skimpy nightgown, and rubbed the hard ridge in his jeans back and forth over her panties.
He tilted his head and captured her lips, seeking the kiss they both ached for. Instinctively Windy rose on her toes and reached up to touch him. Moving closer, she traced the arch of his brow, the hollow of his cheek, the hard angle of his jaw, wanting—no, needing—to explore every nuance of him. Their tongues mated frantically. For too long they had denied their passion, and now all at once they tried to sate a hunger that burned madly out of control. The kiss was hot and searing, the rhythm of his hips making it even more so.
"Windy." Sky pulled away with a slight groan. "If we do this—I can't make a commitment. Nothing's changed … I can't promise any kind of future."
"I understand." What he said hardly mattered because she knew he loved her. Deep in the recess of his mind, he loved her. And she loved him. "I want you to be my first."
He touched her cheek, then pulled back a little. "I wasn't expecting this to happen between us. I don't keep any protection around. It's just been so long since I've been with anyone. And I won't … we can't without—" He sounded as if he were apologizing for not being prepared for her seduction. "I don't suppose you—"
She placed her palms flat against his naked chest, and he sucked in a barely controlled breath. "I bought some tonight, Sky. And I want to be your lover, more than I've ever wanted anything."
He leaned in and covered her mouth with his, acknowledging her admission with a scorching kiss. Then he raised his fingers to her nightgown, sending butterfly touches across her breasts, circling the hardened nipples, rubbing the fabric against her aching flesh.
When the kiss ended, he dropped his chin and slid his tongue down the valley between her breasts and pushed the robe off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a rippling pool of peach silk. The baby doll nightie came next, adding lace and ribbon to the silk pond. He began bathing her, teasing the rosy crest of one nipple with his tongue. And then he was tugging and suckling so fiercely she cried out in a frenzied moan.
She dizzied from the feel of him, the warmth of his breath, tease of his tongue, ripple of muscle cording his back. When he lifted his head, Windy reached into his hair, seized his scalp, and pulled him toward her other breast. The quiet laugh from his throat sounded low and sinfully wicked as he lowered his mouth to give her the pleasure she craved.
Windy wasn't sure how or when it happened, but she found herself straddling him, her legs locked around his hips as he whisked her down the hall.
He dived, and they landed on her bed together, arms and legs flying, yellow and black hair tangling as they kissed.
"Handsome Sútv." Windy wanted to tell him how much she loved him. Instead, she opened the top drawer of her dresser, removed the condom box and told him how much she needed him.
"Show Sútv how much you need him," he teased, rolling her over until she sat across his hips.
Windy reached into the waistband of her panties, and removed the last of her wispy clothing. Feeling shy or awkward had no place in her mind. Tonight there was only the feel of the man she loved—the emotion of wanting to experience him. Studying the rise in his partially unbuttoned jeans, she rocked her hips. "Your turn to show me how much you need me."
In one quick roll she was beneath him. "It's my turn to kiss you," he said, pushing his tongue into her mouth and covering her naked body with his hands. Windy felt him everywhere. Touching, caressing, exploring. A contradiction of sensation engulfed her. Her limbs seemed molten, yet her heart pulsed with life, strong and steady, pumping heat through her veins.
When he slipped a finger into her moist center, she arched against his hand. "Pretty, wild Windy." His voice seduced as his finger delved deeper. "I want to make you scream."
She watched, anticipating as his lips blazed a trail down her body. He nuzzled the fullness of her breasts, slid his mouth down her rib cage, kissed the hard points of her hip bones. And then he paused at her thighs to look up at her.
His gaze was too vibrant, too arresting. A cobalt fire ignited within her. She closed her eyes. A soft moan escaped her lips as he parted her thighs. She tensed, caught her breath and a choked cry with it. The tip of his tongue was taking, giving, dipping sensuously into the essence of her femininity.
With slow, mounting strokes, he tasted, then savored, each deliberate laying spreading through her like a searing flame. Grasping her hips, he found her core and pulled her closer.
She shuddered.
He suckled.
She screamed.
As she shook through a series of cataclysmic convulsions, he made her cry his name out loud, over and over, until those three simple letters branded her heart.
"Oh, Sky." Windy kissed his smiling lips and melted against him, the power of his body absorbing the last ripple of her orgasm.
His smile increased. "I love touching you … watching you." He wrapped her in his arms. "And I love hearing you say my name." He took her hand and moved it up and down, over the bulge stretching his jeans. "Say my name."
She reached into the denim fly and worked free the last three buttons. "Sky." The first one popped. "Sky." The second one. After the third, she skimmed the sensitive tip of his erection.
Together, they pushed his jeans down. Shoving them away, he invited her to embrace him. "Please, Windy, touch me. Put your hands…"
Answering his carnal plea, she encircled him, and he surged, hot and greedy into her palm. With each insistent stroke, she pushed her fingers upward, urging him to move within her grasp. As he did, he mumbled her name in his native tongue. The low guttural sound filled the room—a sound that made her want him even more.
As he braced himself above her, his hair fell forward. "Are you ready?" he asked, as though desperate to be a part of h
er.
She reached up to touch his face, his hair, the muscles in his neck. She wanted to know all of him, every feature, every pore, the knife-blade ridge of his cheekbones, the moist feel of his lips, the cut of his jaw. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm ready."
He opened one of the foil packets, then took her hand and encouraged her to touch him again, to stroke him before protecting them both.
He nuzzled her hair and, within seconds, they feasted on each other's mouths, hungry and anxious. She placed her lips against his throat while he entered her, feeling his erratic pulse. She clawed his back as the first thrust of pain burst through her body, then lifted her hips when it turned to a needy ache.
He drove her slowly at first, rocking her, introducing her to his dance, to the silky rhythm of lovemaking. The mosquito netting draped above her bed provided a hazy film, a curtain of exotic ambience. It didn't matter that Sky wasn't her husband, or this wasn't her honeymoon. The wedding night of her dreams couldn't compare to the beauty of Sky's body filling hers. He had a warrior's body, tall and powerful. And his eyes, a blazing shade of blue, stared into hers. He was, without a doubt, the man she loved.
Sky pushed his hands through her hair, spilling curls over her shoulders and across the pillow. "You're perfect, Pretty Windy." He buried himself deeper and groaned. "So perfect."
She gasped, certain she would crave him every night. Every hour. Every minute. She would never get enough of his hard, virile body or long, tapered fingers. Or that mouth suckling her nipple—that moist, luscious mouth. Every movement, every hurried, eager touch brought a fresh thrill. A raw, wicked thrill.
She dragged his lips to hers, and they coupled passionately. She raised her hips as his lowered, meeting his powerful thrusts with the same vigorous rhythm. The flesh that ignited was bronzed and fair, rough and smooth, swollen and moist. The nails that clawed were hers, the teeth that nipped, his. When the climax came, it was shared through a violent storm of lust and need—a combination so strong and new, when it ended, tears sprang from her eyes.
As Windy clutched his head to her breast, Sky basked in her warmth. Such a special lady, he thought. So pure and delicate. Never had he imagined being offered the gift of a woman's virginity.
SKYLER HAWK: LONE BRAVE Page 13