Chapter 11 #3
Oh, that he would touch her there, on her breasts. Never in her life could she remember wanting anything more. But Swift Hawk appeared to be immune to hints, and he rubbed her stomach instead. “I have never seen hair the color of yours.”
“I am told it is unusual. My mother’s hair color was the same as mine. It runs in our family, I suppose.”
“Haa‘he. I can see that it does, for your brother’s hair is much the same in color.”
Angelia opened her eyes and stared up at Swift Hawk, willing him to turn his dark eyes to her, for she wanted…
more. But he seemed to be of a mind to ignore her supplication, silent though it be.
At last, she realized she would have to take the lead, if she were to convince this very stubborn man of her need.
“Mr. Hawk, you have my permission to do what you will. Why do you hesitate to rub my body…everywhere?”
She watched Swift Hawk swallow once, then again, as though there were something lodged in his throat. After what seemed an eternity, he turned his heated gaze on hers. “Have you ever made love to a man before?”
She swung her head from left to right. “No.”
He sighed. “Hear me on this without interruption then.”
She nodded.
“If I do this thing to you, you will desire it again. Maybe not right away. But you will. It is not that it is bad, it is simply that this is the way people are. If you were married, then you could satisfy this desire whenever the urge might strike you. But you are not married, and so you would have no means by which to release your passion.”
“Oh, I see.”
“If I do this thing to you…” he drew out the thought, “…I might lead you along a path that could be wrong for you. It could take you places that might not be for your own good. Since you have never known passion, it might be best if you do not know it now.”
That was quite a lot for a person to say, she thought. It was also insightful. However, how could he not know? Didn’t he feel what she felt, even now? For if he did, how could he ignore it? Sighing, she caught and held his gaze. Then, barely raising her voice, she said, “I fear it is too late.”
He raised his brows.
She explained, “I don’t know when it started.
Maybe this morning, when I heard you singing, but something about that…
about you… Or maybe it is your insufferable teasing.
Whatever it is, Mr. Hawk, I feel as if I will go to pieces if I don’t finish this, if I leave your arms without this.
I think that I need you, perhaps as much as you want me. ”
Oh, how she wished to capture the look on his face to memory, for it was like watching a dam bursting. Gladness, passion, yearning—it was all there. With arms so strong she could barely breathe, he hugged her to him.
Was this love?
Perhaps. Perhaps.
His fingers unerringly found her breasts, and his lips soon followed where his fingers led, his long hair spreading over her, as though to envelop her in a sensuous curtain. Angelia threw back her head, glorying in the sweet uproar that was washing over her.
So this was what lovemaking was all about.
It was not a passive thing, nor was it stagnant. It was a living, breathing need. A need to take, a need to give. A need to be close, to draw close.
Reaching up a hand, she guided it through his dark hair, which was still wet from their adventure. Arching her back so as to give him better access to her bosom, she swept the touch of her fingers down his back, cherishing the shiver that crept over him.
So, he felt the fervor of her caress too.
For a moment, he ceased his adoration at her chest and glanced up to catch her gaze.
Black, passion-glazed eyes met hers as he brought a hand up to trail over her cheek.
Briefly, he smiled at her, then he let his fingers drop to her neck, up again to cup her chin.
Next, reaching around to hold her gently, he raised her up toward him, bringing her face to his, where he rubbed his cheek against her own.
Oh, how gentle he was, how sweet his touch. Fire struck her insides, and starting with her stomach, it cascaded through her system like a wild prairie blaze. But she had to have more.
Slowly, she brought her lips to his. It was like the strike of a lightning bolt, that kiss. One touch, another, and then his lips settled over hers, his tongue seeking out her mouth, as though he would commit the act of love with lips and tongue alone.
For a moment, she felt the togetherness that she craved. Soon, even that wasn’t enough, and she squirmed against him.
He broke off the kiss, both of them barely able to catch their breath. His pure, masculine scent filled her senses, its woodsy aroma arousing. Again, she twisted in his arms. He seemed in no hurry, and settling his cheek against hers, he uttered, “It is good between us.”
She, however, was incapable of speech, and she merely inclined her head.
Then he kissed her all over again, only this time as he did so, his fingers found that place between her legs—the place where her body ached for something. She was wet, either from need or from the river water, she realized, and his fingers slid easily over her.
Dear Lord, the rapture of that touch.
Never had she felt such stirring, such wonder, such bliss. Oh, that it could go on and on.
And it did.
He whispered, “Move your hips against my hand, and tell me if it feels good to you.”
Angelia really needed no such prompting. All on her own, her hips were already moving and she was wiggling against him, as if reaching for something.
One of his fingers slid into her hidden recess, there at the junction of her legs, and she thought she might lose her mind.
In truth, she did lose it, if only for a little while.
This, him, his touch and what he was doing with his fingers, only this held importance in her mind.
There was no room for anything else…nothing but him.
While she fidgeted against that hand, he gazed into her eyes, smiling at her. “You are so beautiful, in this, as is everything about you.”
What an exquisite thing to say, and she responded to it, to him, in an odd way. She thrust her hips more vigorously and was suddenly tripping over the edge of reality.
Staring up into his gaze, there was nothing here for her but him, pleasure, sensation and utter joy. A tiny, high-pitched noise escaped her throat, and looking up, she discovered that his reaction to that wee bit of sound was strange. For he shut his eyes and shuddered.
Closing her eyes too, she rolled her hips over and over against that hand, against him, the pleasure washing over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, until at last she reached the precipice of her pleasure.
Was this love, then? If it weren’t, she was very close to it.
She settled back against him, the need to be held close no dimmer than it had been before.
When he made to rise up, she held on to him so tightly that he desisted any movement at all, and after he pulled her in even closer to him, they sat in one another’s arms silently, each one it seemed in hushed admiration of the other.
She had never been this close to another human being. And she had discovered something. Lovemaking was not only a joining of bodies, it was a fusion of spirit, because she had felt the essence of exactly who he was.
And she had found him…wonderful.
After a brief pause, she whispered, “That was incredible.”
“Haa’he, it was.”
“But did you…”
He was silent momentarily. Then, almost sheepishly, he said, “I did.”
“But I thought that a man had to—”
Taking her hand, he brought it to that part of his anatomy that was wholly male. Her hand met not only the hard strength of him, but a warm fluid, there against his breechcloth. She gasped.
“Do not disparage. It is simply that I have been too long without the comfort of a woman. I go before myself, I fear.”
She was a long way from disparaging either herself or him. This had been the most pleasurable, the most exciting experience of her young life.
“Please, Swift Hawk, please just hold me. If only we could stay like this forever. Stay this close.”
He nodded. “But soon you must dress. Soon others will be awake, and you will be missed.”
“Yes. But not now.”
Again, he nodded. “No, not now. Do not fret. When we part, as we must do soon, we will remain close. Perhaps not so in body, but in spirit… That is something else entirely. Haa’he, I think that spiritually we are tied.”
Angelia smiled. What a beautiful thing to say.
Was this love? Indeed, she thought it very well might be.