Hawk closed his eyes, unable to bear seeing Angel’s sadness and trembling smile.
“Yes,” he said.
“I’m a terrible actress.”
“Yes,” he whispered, smoothing his palms over her arms, her shoulders. “I know that. Now.”
Angel stared up at Hawk, caught by the emotion in his voice.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said fiercely. “Hawk, listen to me! I don’t blame you for what happened.”
“I do.”
“But— ”
“You gave me what you had given to no other man,” Hawk said. “And I . . . I gave you what I’d given to every other woman. Your innocence shocked me. Your truth destroyed me. So I hurt you. Badly. You’re still hurting.”
Hawk’s mouth brushed over Angel’s hand, her wrist, the parted lips that trembled too close to his.
“Let me give you something besides pain,” he said softly. “Let me use what I know for something besides destruction. I won’t take you. I won’t touch you with more than my hands, my mouth, my breath.”
Angel looked into Hawk’s clear, extraordinary eyes and saw only herself reflected in them, her own need to create beauty from the jagged shards of the past.
Hawk’s face was no longer cruel. It held an agony of hope suspended, waiting like a child for presents that never came, waiting for a love that was measured only by its absence, an aching emptiness as cold and blue as the sky.
Then Hawk felt the warmth of Angel’s body beneath his hands, felt the sweet sigh of her breath against his chest, felt the tremor ripple through her as she gave herself to his keeping.
“Yes,” Angel whispered.
The word swept through Hawk, a gift greater than any he had ever been given. He tried to speak, to thank Angel for the trust he didn’t deserve. He had no voice.
Hawk’s hands trembled as they caressed Angel’s hair. He held her lightly against his body and rocked slowly, eyes closed, absorbing her presence within his arms.
Lips that were warm and gentle kissed Angel’s temple, her eyelids, the hollow of her cheek. Long, strong fingers eased into her hair, bringing its sun-bright warmth to Hawk’s mouth.
He buried his face in her silky curls, breathing in her scent until he was dizzy with her sweetness. Then he felt Angel smooth her cheek against the gleaming black hair on his chest and thought he would break with pleasure.
Slowly his index finger tilted her face up to his. For a long moment Hawk looked at the blue-green mystery of Angel’s eyes, radiance and color and almost no shadow at all. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.
The first touch was so sweet, so gentle, that tears formed in Angel’s eyes. Her eyelashes lowered, concealing her tears. When her breath came in through parted lips, it brought with it a subtle taste of Hawk, warmth and tenderness and restraint.
Tenderly Hawk kissed the corners of Angel’s mouth, outlined the curve of her smile with the moist tip of his tongue, and then brushed his mouth repeatedly over hers. His lips barely touched hers with each kiss, each gliding caress that ended almost before it began.
Then he began all over again, touching her temples and eyes and smile, his tongue gentle on her lips, his mouth restrained and sweet as he worshipped her with small, exquisite caresses.
Deep inside her body, Angel felt herself come apart with a slow, liquid unraveling that brought a soft moan to her throat. Tears slid soundlessly down her cheeks, moistening Hawk’s lips as his tongue had moistened hers.
He felt her tears, tasted them, and lifted his head.
“Angel?” he asked softly, his voice deepening over a tremor of emotion. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You make me feel so beautiful,” she whispered, opening her eyes and looking into Hawk’s. “I’ve never felt beautiful before. Not like this.”
The words both humbled and exalted Hawk, shaking him with a fierce pleasure he had never known until this instant.
“Thank you,” he said huskily. Then he whispered against Angel’s cheek, “Touching you teaches me the meaning of the word beauty.”
Angel shivered as Hawk’s lips found the sensitive rim of her ear. His tongue tip moved lightly, sensuously, warmly, spiraling down and in until he knew all the secret turns and curves of her ear. For a moment his tongue hardened, probing, and then he retreated, taking warmth with him.
Trembling, Angel made a small sound. Hawk lifted his head and looked at her through half-closed eyes, reading pleasure and growing passion in the taut line of her body. His hand shaped itself to her throat, savoring the softness and the pulse racing beneath his thumb.
Angel’s own hands reached out to Hawk. Her fingers were warm at his waist and the small of his back as she snuggled against him. He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see the hunger clawing through him at her innocent touch.
“You’re so warm,” she said, turning her head until she could rest her lips against Hawk’s chest. “And furry.”
She lifted her head. Laughter and sensual pleasure made her eyes brilliant.
“I’ll get my shirt,” Hawk said.
His eyes were still closed, his voice tight with the effort it took to restrain himself. He cursed himself for not guessing that Angel wouldn’t be used to a man’s naked chest. If Grant had been as smooth as Derry, she probably had never felt the rough textures of a man’s body hair before now.
“Don’t put on your shirt,” Angel said quickly.
“Are you sure?”
Softly, her fingers tested the rough silk and resilience of Hawk.
“I like the way you feel. Unless you mind?” Angel added, lifting her hand suddenly.
Hawk’s eyes opened, clear and warm. His hand captured hers and pulled it slowly across his chest.
“I like it when you touch me.”
Too much, he added silently.
The rigid expression of Hawk’s desire pressed harder against his jeans with each rapid heartbeat. Yet he wouldn’t have traded one instant of Angel’s innocent torture for all the experienced release other women had brought him.
“Are you sure?” asked Angel.
There was hesitation in her eyes, in her voice, in her hand no longer stroking him.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Hawk said.
He lowered his head until his mouth fit perfectly over Angel’s. With slow, gentle movements of his tongue, he melted her lips until they flowed apart beneath him.
The tiny serrations of her teeth fascinated him. He traced their edges again and again before he allowed himself to taste the moist sweetness of her mouth. Just one taste, a single delicate touch of his tongue against hers.
The tremor that went through Angel was echoed deep in Hawk’s body, blood pooling hotly, flesh pressing against the restraints of cloth, demanding release.
His tongue returned, learning the velvet textures of Angel’s mouth. Her hands on his back tightened, urging Hawk closer in silent, unknowing invitation. Her tongue answered the teasing pressures of his, meeting retreat with boldness. He responded with a gliding, satin caress that drew tiny sounds from deep in Angel’s throat.
The kiss lasted until her heart was a wildness shaking her and her mouth opened deeply to Hawk’s. Even then the kiss continued, filling her softness and moist warmth with his taste, making her tremble with each wave of pleasure sweeping over her.
The palms of Hawk’s hands were almost hot as they moved from Angel’s cheeks to her shoulders and then down her arms to her fingertips. He threaded his hands through hers, gently unwrapping her arms from around his waist.
Hawk’s fingers slid between Angel’s slowly, rhythmically, stroking the burning, sensitive skin. Then his hands moved with ravishing seduction along the inner softness of her arms. The caress was as unbroken as his kiss, Hawk filling Angel’s senses until she shivered and drank his presence, wordlessly telling him of the pleasure coursing through her, pleasure he had brought to her.
The kiss deepened even more as Hawk’s palms slid ove
r the skin revealed by the deeply cut side of Angel’s suit. He ached to let his fingers slide beneath the silky fabric and discover the softness of flesh that had never known the sun.
But his hands moved on, sliding up to her ribs, brushing the firm swell of her breasts. His caress lingered there, learning the satin curves, seducing her nipples into a tightness that inflamed him as much as her ragged moan.
Only then did Hawk release Angel’s mouth. His lips moved with slow heat across the taut skin of her neck.
Head tipped back, eyes closed, Angel abandoned herself to the marvelous sensations Hawk’s caressing mouth and hands drew from her. His mouth slid with exquisite care across the hollow of her throat, lingering long enough for his tongue and lips to learn the heated race of her heart.
When his mouth drifted over the curve of her breast, then closed with melting gentleness over her nipple, Angel shivered and arched into the caress unselfconsciously, knowing only the pleasure Hawk gave her. His teeth rasped lightly over the outline of her nipple beneath the smooth fabric of the bathing suit, and she moaned softly.
The sound ripped through Hawk, pain and pleasure combined, a male hunger that made him want to cry out in anguish and fierce delight.
Blindly, Hawk’s fingers pulled at the satin cords holding up Angel’s suit. The ties parted, sliding down her shoulders.
Angel held her breath, wanting nothing more than to feel the hot touch of Hawk’s tongue on her naked breasts. Then she realized what she was thinking, and froze in surprise at the abandonment that Hawk’s touch called from her.
She had loved Grant, wanted Grant. But not like this. This was as much outside her experience as Hawk himself.
Hawk sensed the change in Angel. He held her gently away from his body, his hands restrained, his mouth no longer touching her anywhere.
“Hawk?” Angel asked, her voice soft, ragged.
“I think it’s time I put a bandage on your back,” Hawk said, standing up and turning away in a single swift motion. “Lie down on your stomach and close your eyes.”
The words echoed in Hawk’s mind, mocking him.
Angel didn’t have to have her eyes closed for him to put a bandage on her, but it might prevent him from scaring her with his obvious hunger. There was no way for Hawk to hide it from her, and no way to convince her that he would not take her no matter how hot and cruel the talons of need digging into him became.
Grimly Hawk went into the boat’s cabin. He took his time finding the first aid kit. He took even more time selecting a bandage, choosing among the varied sizes and shapes as though Angel’s life depended on having just the right one.
He had barely touched the surface of the pleasure he wanted to give Angel.
And she was still afraid of him.
23
Angel lay on her stomach, her face turned away from the cabin. She didn’t want Hawk to see her confusion when he returned. Deliberately she tried to build the beautiful rose in her mind. It spun away into a place that seethed with heat and hunger.
Small tremors of desire and frustration shook Angel with every breath she took. Her body was flushed, aching, quivering with nerve endings she had forgotten or never known she owned. She felt adrift, spinning, hungry to her core.
With every heartbeat Angel wished that Hawk hadn’t left, that he was still close to her, that his hands and mouth were still caressing her.
She no longer cared that Hawk’s lovemaking had brought her pain once before. She didn’t believe that he would hurt her again. The Hawk who had just caressed her was not the same man who had taken her quickly, ruthlessly, a few days ago. This Hawk was a lover, not a predator.
His hands had trembled when he touched her.
That, as much as Hawk’s caresses, had taken the world from beneath Angel’s feet. She had never been the focus of such intense, consuming desire.
Hawk wants me. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he wants me.
And I want him.
Angel felt the thick pad shift as Hawk sat next to her. His warm fingers stroked lightly down the length of her spine. She shivered helplessly, wanting more.
His hand remained poised above Angel’s back.
“Are you cold?” Hawk asked, concerned.
Though the sun was overhead, he knew that it was always cool on the water.
“Only when you stop touching me,” Angel whispered.
Hawk’s breath came in sharply. The sudden race of his heart made his hands tremble so that it was all but impossible to unwrap the small bandage and smooth it into place on Angel’s back.
Eventually he managed. Then, when he could trust himself again, he kissed the warm skin that was revealed by the crisscross of straps and the deeply cut back of Angel’s bathing suit.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
Angel nodded and shivered again.
“When you froze in my arms,” Hawk said softly, “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you anymore.”
“I was just . . . surprised,” Angel admitted.
The last word was a ragged intake of breath. Hawk’s tongue was sliding along her spine in a sultry caress that ended in the sensitive small of her back. As the tip of his tongue caressed her, one warm hand kneaded lightly from her ankle to the firm curves of her thigh.
Hawk felt the ripple of pleasure that swept through Angel when his teeth caressed the sensitive nerves at the base of her spine.
“Why were you surprised?” murmured Hawk.
For a moment Angel’s only answer was a moan that sounded like Hawk’s name.
“Angel?”
“I thought I knew myself,” she said huskily. “I thought I knew what it was to want someone.”
“And?”
Angel’s breath shivered out. She felt the heat and strength of Hawk’s fingers sliding along her thigh, sending shock waves of need racing through her, melting her.
“I was wrong, Hawk. Every time you touch me, I learn something new, something beautiful.”
Again, without knowing it, Angel had both destroyed and created Hawk with a few words.
Hawk made a sound low in his throat and closed his eyes. He rested his cheek in the warm hollow of Angel’s back, letting his breath pool moistly against her soft skin.
He had known nothing like Angel in his lifetime. She made him want to believe in things that he had long since abandoned—gentleness and generosity, human warmth.
Truth.
Angel was a woman without lies, and Hawk wanted to worship her.
His caressing palm slid down her right leg again. The muscles of her leg shifted and flexed, giving back his touch. Her calf was smooth and curved, firm. There were faint scars beneath her tan ankle.
Hawk’s fingers stopped, then gently found and memorized each reminder of her old pain. Angel’s skin was taut, warm, incredibly alive. It was impossible to believe that she had ever been injured, broken, an angel wounded and lost but for Derry’s courage.
Abruptly Hawk realized that he was holding Angel’s ankle much too tightly. He cradled her ankle in his hands while his lips and the tip of his tongue smoothed across faded scars.
“I’m sorry,” Hawk whispered. “Did I hurt your ankle?”
Angel’s answer was a silent shake of her head that made sunlight gather and run through her hair.
“Are you sure?”
Hawk kissed her skin gently, then caressed it with his cheek. The stillness in him transmitted itself to Angel. She propped herself on her elbow and looked over her shoulder. For the first time she saw the naked intensity of Hawk’s eyes and the mixture of emotions on his face as he caressed her.
“Hawk?” she asked, uncertain. She had never seen him look quite like that, almost afraid. “Is something wrong?
He smoothed his mustache over the arch of her foot in silent reassurance.
“It’s all right,” Hawk said in a low voice. “I was just thinking of how much I owe Derry.”
“Derry? Why?”
Angel searc
hed Hawk’s face with eyes as deep as the sea, waiting for his answer.
“You, sweet Angel,” Hawk said simply. “I owe him you. I owe Derry the most beautiful moments I’ve ever shared with anyone.”
Tears magnified Angel’s eyes for a moment, hovering on the brink of release. She whispered his name through lips that trembled.
Hawk moved swiftly, catching her tears on the tip of his tongue before they could fall.
Angel reached for him, trying to turn onto her back so that she could hold him. Hawk gently prevented her from completing the movement. He released the soft ties of the bathing suit that crisscrossed on her back.
The suit fell away, revealing the firm curves of Angel’s breasts. Where the sun had never touched her, her skin had the soft gleam of a pearl. Her nipples were taut, elegant, as pink as the tip of Hawk’s tongue.
Lightly Hawk caressed the aching peaks with his mouth, touching her only enough to leave a sensual sheen of heat and moisture behind.
Angel was torn between passion and shyness. She had never felt so naked as she did now, not even when Hawk had undressed her completely. Then there had been the thick twilight intimacy of the bow.
Now there was only sunlight and the clear brown fire of Hawk’s eyes looking at her.
“You’re more beautiful than I remembered,” Hawk said slowly.
His voice became even deeper as his tongue touched her breast again, heat and moisture making her ache.
“And I remembered you as the most perfect woman I had ever seen,” Hawk whispered.
“Hawk . . . ” Waves of longing took Angel. She leaned against him, shivering. “You make me weak.”
Her bright hair swirled across Hawk’s naked stomach and the weight of her head was a sweet burning in his lap. He held his breath, knowing that Angel must have felt the hard insistence of his arousal beneath her cheek.
Yet she didn’t retreat.
Hawk closed his eyes and knew that he would remember this moment long after every other woman had faded from his mind.
Very gently he lifted Angel in his arms. His lips moved over her face, caressing all the curves and hollows that he had already made his own. When his mouth brushed over hers, Angel moaned and threaded her fingers into his thick black hair. Her lips opened, wanting him, needing him, hungry for the sensual excitement of his mouth.
A Woman Without Lies Page 20
