A Woman Without Lies (30 page)

Hawk’s body tightened as he resisted the gentle pressure of the hands pulling him down to Angel’s mouth. Then her tongue teased his lips, using the gliding touches he had taught her to unlock the warmth of his mouth.

“Please,” Angel whispered, “don’t deny my love.”

With a nearly soundless groan, Hawk opened his lips and drank deeply of the wild sweetness that waited for him in Angel’s mouth. For a long time he knew nothing but her taste and the supple heat of her body moving against his.

Then the hunger that Hawk had kept savagely leashed threatened to explode, tearing him apart. His arms closed tightly around her, stilling the sensual motions of her body against his.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Hawk said, his voice harsh with the cost of subduing his primal hunger.

Angel looked up at him. The smile on her lips was as old as Eve.

“I’m inexperienced, not stupid,” Angel said. “I know that you gave me everything, taking nothing for yourself. Now I want to give you something.”

“Angel . . . Angel,” Hawk said.

His voice was tight and low as he fought against himself and the sensual promise of her body.

“Yes,” Angel said simply.

“No. I want you too much. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you again. You don’t know—!”

“Then show me, Hawk,” she interrupted.

She rubbed her lips across his chest, finding and caressing his dark male nipples with her tongue, touching him as he had touched her.

“I want to be your woman,” she said.

“Are you certain?” asked Hawk.

His voice was so tight it vibrated with suppressed emotion. He stood swiftly, as though afraid to be touching Angel if she decided not to risk his passion after all.

Angel looked up at the dark, powerful man standing so close to her. She sensed that he was remembering the first time, when he had taken her casually, carelessly, hurting her.

She saw the waiting and the strength coiled in Hawk’s muscular body, and the hunger straining against the worn fabric of his jeans. Deliberately she lifted her hand over him, holding as much of him as she could.

At the first touch of Angel’s fingers, Hawk tightened like a drawn bow. She savored the dark blaze of passion that leaped in his eyes as her hand moved over him.

“I’m sure,” Angel said. “You’ll have to teach me what you want, though. Will you mind that?”

Hawk’s answering laugh was thick, almost curt. His hips moved sinuously, increasing the pressure of Angel’s hand caressing him. Her fingernails raked lightly down, a fierce yet gentle touch she had learned from him.

With a groan, Hawk closed his hands over hers. For an instant he held her hard against the rigid ache of his desire. Then he lifted her hand, biting her palm and the soft pads of her fingers.

“When did you learn how to touch me?” he asked, his voice husky, his body hot with desire.

“You told me.”

“When?”

Angel captured one of Hawk’s hands. She bit him with the same leashed wildness he had just shown to her.

“When you did that to me,” she said.

Hawk thought of the other ways he had caressed Angel, the intimate taste of her, the soft cries and liquid fire of her pleasure. She had been inexperienced, yet she had responded to him with an abandon that had all but destroyed his control.

Innocent, generous, sensual beyond his dreams.

“Angel,” Hawk said thickly, “you deserve a better man than I am.”

“There is no better man,” she said, certainty and love in every word.

“There’s a world full of them,” Hawk retorted, his voice almost harsh.

“Not for me.”

Each word was clear, distinct.

Hawk closed his eyes, knowing that Angel was neither foolish nor insincere. He knew that she loved him whether he deserved it or not, whether he loved her or not.

He knew also that he should step back, fly away, leaving Angel to find the man she deserved to have.

“There’s nothing I can teach you but pain,” Hawk said, his voice almost desperate.

“Hawk,” Angel said softly, “there’s nothing you can teach me
about
pain. Everything of me that can be broken, has been. Mind, body, heart.”

“Angel,” he whispered, but could say no more.

“Don’t be afraid of hurting me,” she said. “Don’t hate yourself for making love to me. I’m not a child. I’m a woman. Your woman, Hawk. For as long as you want me.”

Slowly Angel’s hands moved to the fastening of Hawk’s jeans. Emotion seethed in her, something more than the sensual hunger that he had just taught her. The force of her emotions made her hands tremble so badly that her normally quick fingers were unresponsive.

Hawk watched Angel with dark, hooded eyes, afraid to believe she truly wanted him despite the pain he had cause her. He made no move to either help or stop Angel as her fingers fumbled at the buckle of his belt, trying to work the familiar object from a totally unfamiliar angle.

By the time the belt was finally unfastened, Angel felt clumsy and inadequate, remembering the smooth skill with which Hawk had undressed her. The metal buttons on his jeans were even worse than the buckle. It was like trying to cut her hair in a mirror. Every move she made was opposite of the one she should have made.

And then Angel realized that there were many ways to say
no.
Hawk had already tried most of them. He was a skilled lover. She was not.

Perhaps that was what he had been trying to say kindly. He was hungry, yes. Any man would have been in his position. Arousal wasn’t love, though. It wasn’t even caring. It was a simple biological reflex that inevitably resulted from a certain level of stimulation.

There’s nothing personal about it,
Angel told herself.
Or surprising. Hawk hurt me and feels guilty about it. So he took away my memory of pain and left in its place memories of intense pleasure.

But I misunderstood him. I saw more in his touch than there was.

Again.

Angel’s hands dropped to her lap as she abandoned her futile efforts. She turned and stretched out on her stomach on the dark quilt. As she lay down, she caught a corner of the quilt, covering her nakedness.

“I’m sorry, Hawk,” she said quietly. “I misunderstood you. Again.”

Though Angel wasn’t facing him, her words were clear, as clear as the shadows that Hawk had seen in her eyes in the instant before she turned away.

“What did you misunderstand?” Hawk asked.

Angel lay quietly, building a stained glass rose in her mind, scarlet petals curving against a radiant sun.

“Angel?”

Hawk touched her bare shoulder with hesitant fingertips.

The rose trembled and shattered into crimson fragments.

Angel’s fingernails dug her palms. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She spoke without looking at Hawk, looking at nothing at all.

“I didn’t realize that you were simply feeling sorry for me,” Angel said, her voice almost even.

Almost, but not quite. It was the difference that tore at Hawk.

“Angel,” he said softly, stroking the warm smoothness of her shoulder. “That’s not—”

“Please, don’t,” she interrupted with aching calm. “It’s all right, Hawk. You don’t have to feel sorry for me anymore. As you told me, it’s a poor substitute for passion.”

“I told you?” Hawk’s hand hesitated. “What are you talking about?”

“You. Just now, when you let me find out for myself how inept a lover I am.” Angel’s laugh was tight, almost choked. “I don’t blame you for wanting a woman who can at least unbutton a damned pair of jeans!”

Hawk tugged the quilt out of Angel’s hand, leaving her naked again. When she rolled over and reached blindly to retrieve the cover, he caught her hand beneath his. Gently he guided her fingers over the fastenings on his jeans.

“I don’t want someone who’s undressed a thousand men,” Hawk said, his voice husky. “I want a woman who wants me so badly that her hands shake too much to unfasten my jeans. I’ve never had a woman like that, Angel. I didn’t even know a woman like that existed. Until now.”

The last metal button slid free of its narrow hole. Hawk moved Angel’s hand inside the worn blue fabric. A deep thread of sound escaped his throat when he pressed her palm against the rigid flesh beneath his bathing suit.

“That isn’t pity you’re feeling,” Hawk said, his voice gritty and his eyes almost black with passion. “It’s more need than I’ve ever had for a woman. And that’s good, because you’re more woman than I’ve ever had.”

Hawk jammed his fingers in his pocket, pulled out a small packet, and then yanked off his bathing suit and jeans with a single twisting motion.

Desire went through Angel like shock waves through glass, shattering her. Hawk was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, his body powerful and taut and as hard as the stone cliffs lining the bay.

But unlike the cliffs, he responded when she touched him, unable to conceal the tremors that shook him.

For long moments Hawk permitted Angel’s sensual exploration of his very different flesh. Then he groaned aloud, tore open the packet, and smoothed the thin sheath into place. Only then did he lie down next to her, pulling her body along the hot length of his.

“No more, Angel,” Hawk muttered thickly, burying his lips in her neck, “not now. I need you so much.”

Hawk rolled over swiftly, pinning Angel beneath his body as he settled between her legs. His hips moved against her, telling her exactly how much he needed her.

She shivered and cried out, twisting against him wildly, instinctively, running the sensitive soles of her feet up and down his flexed calves, trying to capture him inside her. His hand stroked down her body and found the liquid heat of her, a single touch that sent tiny, passionate convulsions rippling through her body.

“Now, Hawk,” she pleaded.

“My sweet Angel,” he whispered against her lips.

Hawk took Angel’s mouth and her body with the same smooth, powerful motion, becoming a part of her, melting her around him. He moved with aching care, afraid that he would hurt her in his need.

But there was no pain, no hesitation on Angel’s part. Hawk fit her perfectly, hot and very close, caressing her even when he was utterly still within her. She smiled against his throat and murmured words that had no meaning, simply sounds telling him of her pleasure.

Hawk moved slowly despite the need hammering inside him. He savored each tiny motion of their bodies so perfectly matched. Angel’s legs shifted, circling Hawk’s hips as she sought to know more of him, wanting him even more deeply inside her.

Her hungry seeking took Hawk’s breath away. Reflexively, he gave her what they both wanted, holding back nothing. With each speeding motion, each instant of wild pleasure, he knew he should withdraw slightly, not taking the chance of hurting her.

Then Hawk felt the intimate pulses of Angel’s release all around him and it was too late for anything but the need he had so long denied. His body arched into her, tearing a cry of ecstasy from her and from him in the same instant. He shuddered and arched again and again, giving himself to her as deeply as she had given herself to him.

For slow, sweet minutes Hawk and Angel lay spent in each other’s arms, drifting slowly back to an awareness of sunlight and sky and the soft, subtle movements of the boat beneath their joined bodies.

Hawk smoothed his lips against the tangled, silky fall of Angel’s hair. He kissed her temple, her cheek, the secret inner curve of her ear, the corners of her smile. Her fingers moved down his back to the powerful muscles of his buttocks and beyond, tracing his shadow curves as he had once traced hers.

He groaned and tightened inside her, sending sensations streaking through flesh that was still aroused, hypersensitive. Very gently, she caressed him again, learning the contours of his maleness as he had once learned her softer female curves.

“Angel,” Hawk said, his low voice both husky and amused, “do you know what you are doing?”

Before she could answer, he moved deeply inside her, stealing her breath. He drank Angel’s choked cry from her lips as his hips moved again.

“Is this what you want?” he asked thickly, feeling hunger coil deep inside him again with each hot, sliding caress of her flesh over his.

Hawk saw surprise widen Angel’s blue-green eyes, felt the clinging of her body as she instinctively sought to increase the beautiful, gliding pressure of his intimate caress.

Passion tightened in Hawk, but its talons were no longer painful, merely sharp, because he knew his hunger was met and matched in Angel’s straining softness.

“Hawk?” she asked.

Angel’s breath was short already, her eyes smoky with the passion he could call out of her between one instant and the next.

“I thought men couldn’t—not so soon.”

“A few minutes ago I would have sworn you were right,” said Hawk.

Then his body arched into hers, glorying in her response, the sweet clinging as she moaned and her hand closed around him, learning and caressing the tight flesh hidden within the midnight roughness of his hair, inflaming him until he could hardly breathe.