by Kay Hooper
Drained, they rested in each other’s arms, hearts gradually returning to normal. Kendall had never felt so wonderful, content to remain in his possessive embrace forever.
Hawke reached down to pull the covers up around them, then rose on an elbow to gaze at her with smoky eyes. “You’ve never been with a man before,” he murmured wonderingly, his voice rough. “Why?”
Kendall felt suddenly amused, and soft laughter gleamed in her turquoise eyes. “You mean—why not? Or why now?”
He smiled crookedly. “Both.”
She absently traced the scar on his chest. “Why not … because it never seemed to matter. Why now … because it does.”
“Why does it matter now, honey?” he asked intensely.
“Because I—I need you.” Her eyes shifted away from his in confusion, her own words jarring her oddly. Why did the simple statement make her feel suddenly dizzy?
“Well, that’s something,” he muttered in an odd voice. “And I guess something is better than nothing.” Before she could respond, he went on lightly. “At least you rang the bell.”
“I didn’t,” she objected immediately. “I swear it rang itself.”
“Sure it did.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Yes.”
Kendall giggled softly. “Well, I don’t remember ringing it.”
“You were in the throes of blinding passion, I expect,” he told her gravely. “I think it’s called amnesia.”
She eyed him resignedly. “I think it’s called malarkey.”
“You weren’t in the throes of blinding passion?” He sounded wounded.
“I didn’t have amnesia.”
“Ah—! An admission!”
Kendall flushed and glared at him. The man was enough to drive a saint to drink. “I wasn’t in the throes of anything,” she told him firmly, and then added with more dignity than accuracy, “I never let emotions rule my actions.”
He started laughing. “Oh, really? And what about that little scene in the lobby a few days ago? Are you trying to tell me that your sweet little question was motivated by anything other than an emotional desire for revenge?”
“Of course,” she said stoutly. “I just decided very logically that it was time to get even with you. Period.”
“Uh-huh.” Hawke lifted a quizzical brow. “Now explain why you rang the bell.”
She stared at him, goaded. “I was out of my mind. Obviously.”
“I resent that.”
“Sorry.”
Hawke grinned faintly. “You won’t give an inch, will you? Why don’t you just admit that you’re crazy about me?”
Since the question was a light one, Kendall took it lightly. “Crazy is a good word for it. It’s very difficult to keep one’s sanity in the middle of a fairy tale. That tiara, for instance. Would you care to explain that to me?”
He accepted the change of subject without a blink. “I thought that the symbolism was obvious.”
“That’s not what I meant. Where did it come from, and why didn’t you tell me that it was real?”
With a sigh Hawke answered, “It came from my namesake, and I didn’t tell you it was real because I knew you’d never accept it.”
She latched on to the first part of his answer. “The pirate? I thought so! Then it is an heirloom?”
“Who told you about the pirate?”
“Rick—when I asked him about the name of this island.”
“Some friend. And, no, it isn’t really an heirloom. In fact, it was probably stolen originally.”
“Terrific. My crown is hot.”
“Cute.”
She sighed. “Well, really, Hawke—you shouldn’t have given it to me. It belongs in your family, and—”
“And I wanted you to have it. Every fairy-tale princess deserves a crown, and now you’ve got one.”
“This isn’t a fairy tale!”
“You just admitted that it was. You said that it wasn’t easy to keep your sanity in the middle of a fairy tale. Therefore—”
“Therefore, stop twisting my words! You know what I meant.”
“No. Tell me.”
Kendall frowned and tried to form her jumbled thoughts into some kind of reasonable order. “A fairy tale—isn’t real. It has to end sooner or later. The story ends, the book is closed. It can’t go on forever.”
“Why not?” He smiled slightly. “Leave the book open, keep on writing the story. It doesn’t have to end.”
She gave him a frustrated look. “Hawke, I’m talking about reality. And storybook romance doesn’t belong in a real world!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Kendall was astonished by them. Was that why she was so afraid of the future? Did some tiny part of her mind stubbornly believe that what had happened between them couldn’t be real and, therefore, couldn’t last? Had she seen too much reality to believe in lovely dreams, to believe that romance could go on forever?
“Then we’ll make our own world!” Hawke told her with sudden fierceness. He surrounded her face with warm hands, staring down at her intensely. “Kendall, don’t you understand? I won’t let the romance die.”
“You can’t keep it alive,” she whispered, the child inside her finally understanding what happens when the book is closed. “The world closes in on you, and dreams are pushed aside.”
“We’ll close out the world.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’ve both seen too much of reality, honey. So we’ll make our dream the reality.”
She wanted to ask him how they could do that, but a wise little voice warned that the conversation was becoming too serious. If she didn’t end it now, she would probably say something foolish and reckless. Deliberately keeping her voice light, she murmured, “Castles in the air.”
Giving her a look of rueful understanding that was faintly unnerving, he followed her lead. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he told her cheerfully. “As long as you build a firm foundation underneath.”
“Out of what—clouds?”
The intensity was completely gone from his manner now as he laughed. “What else?”
Kendall thought vaguely that she had never met a man like him before. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to read her mind, to know when to push and when to back off. It was as if he were determined that she would make up her own mind. He had not said that he loved her or wanted to marry her, yet both had been implied in his words and actions.
He seemed almost to understand her confusion and uncertainty—even better than she did. And he seemed to feel—to know—that she would work it out herself, given time.
But Kendall wasn’t so sure. Her love for him was too new, too fragile to put to the test. She was still afraid to take a chance. On him. On romance. And, most important, on herself.
Hawke laughed suddenly, looking down at her, his hands still warm on her face. “Do you realize this is the third time I’ve been in your bed?”
Her lips quirked involuntarily. “Well, they say the third time’s the charm.”
“I never thought I’d be grateful to an old adage.”
Kendall found herself tracing the scar on his chest again. “You walked out on me the last time.”
“You walked out on me first.” His lips twisted. “Figuratively speaking, that is.”
“That was your fault. If you’d warned me about that damned Purple Passion—”
“—I probably wouldn’t have made it as far as your bed,” he finished wryly.
“You make it sound like a race,” she accused, laughing.
“Believe me, it’s felt like a marathon. I’d very nearly decided to chain you to my bed and to hell with your psyche.”
“Charming.” She stared at him.
“I’m a charming guy.”
Kendall choked. “What an ego!”
“I’ve never believed in hiding my light under a bushel.”
“Any other i
nteresting qualities I should know about?”
Hawke reflected for a moment. “I don’t think so. Except one, maybe. It’s only fair to warn you about that one.”
“Which is?”
“Well, in addition to being charming, I’m also very determined. Very, very determined.” He went on, his voice light and almost—but not quite—teasing. “And I always get what I want.”
“Always?” When he nodded with a strange, glinting smile, Kendall felt extremely nervous.
“Always.” He raked his fingers gently through her hair, gray eyes compelling as he stared down at her. “Struggle all you want, honey. Argue and protest, swear at me if you like. Find a thousand reasons to leave this island with your father.”
It was what he didn’t say that made Kendall swallow hard. She had seen his determination that very first day, and now she knew the full scope of it. “Hawke, I—”
“Not now.” He lowered his head and kissed her almost playfully. “We can’t spend all night talking.”
Kendall wondered dimly what she had been about to say. She wasn’t sure. “There isn’t much of the night left,” she told him now, beginning to feel dizzy and not particularly concerned with what tomorrow would bring.
“All the more reason not to waste it talking.”
He kissed her again, not at all playfully this time, and Kendall responded eagerly with a fire and demand to match his own.
She decided, quite suddenly, that she deserved this night with him. Every woman had the right—didn’t she?—to spend one night with the man she loved. To love him freely and without reservation…
And let tomorrow take care of itself.
She wound her arms around his neck, shivering with pleasure when his tongue delicately probed the sensitive inner flesh of her lips. She could feel one of his hands still tangled in her hair, the other sliding warmly down her body. The covers were thrust away and she felt the cool air on her skin.
“I think,” he muttered hoarsely, “that your eyes are lodestones. Turquoise lodestones. I can’t get far away without being drawn back to them.”
Her eyes opened and stared into the gray ones only inches away. With a need beyond reason, her fingers began slowly to explore his face. She felt his cheek tighten beneath her touch, but he was still, watching her. She moved her fingers over his face carefully, adding to the image already imprinted in her mind. And felt strangely moved when his lips quivered as she touched them softly.
“Kendall,” he groaned almost soundlessly, abruptly burying his face in her throat. “I need you so much,” he whispered against her soft, scented skin. “I need you to be a part of me.”
She made a kittenlike sound of pleasure, holding his head between her hands, twining her fingers in the thick darkness of his hair. Her skin felt incredibly sensitive, the slightest touch of his mouth sending her nerve endings into tingling delight. And she wondered dimly how she had lived twenty-five years without knowing these feelings were possible.
Before, they had both been driven by a passion held under restraint too long, but it was different this time. With the sharp edge of their hunger blunted, there was time to savor each moment, to explore and learn each other’s bodies.
For a long time Kendall remained perfectly still beneath his touch. Rough hands traced the curves of her breasts, shaping and stroking the swelling mounds. His fingers tugged gently at the hard nipples, until his mouth took over, satisfying a hunger in both of them. Languidly, as though they had all the time in the world, his lips and tongue concentrated on the throbbing nipples.
Then his caresses moved lower, spreading tingling kisses on the sensitive flesh just beneath her breasts. His large hands spanned her tiny waist as he continued downward, his mouth sliding hotly over the flat belly and the sensitive skin below.
Kendall was breathing shallowly between barely parted lips, her concentration completely focused on him. His hands, his mouth, what he was doing to her. And then his mouth found the warm, womanly center of her, and an electric current raced through her.
“Hawke,” she moaned, suddenly desperate to move, to touch his body as he was touching hers. But he wouldn’t allow it.
“Be still,” he whispered roughly, the feel of his words on her flesh nearly driving her crazy. “Don’t move … just feel…”
She tried to obey the deep command, closing her eyes and letting the feelings wash over her. She felt waves of heat moving outward from the core of her being, a curious icy heat. Tension built within her, coiling tighter and tighter. Desire went spinning into madness, and Kendall could no longer remain still.
She moved to his touch, breathing in rapid little pants, her need a living thing, desperate to escape. The feeling built to an impossible peak and she moaned deeply, her hands holding him until the knuckles went white. The world dissolved, and she was flying with wings that burned.
Kendall felt herself drifting for a timeless moment, and then the feeling subsided. Hawke moved back up her body to take her in his arms, his body tense against her damp flesh. He kissed her heated brow gently, pushing back a strand of silver-blond hair with fingers that weren’t quite steady. Warm lips touched her closed eyes with butterfly softness.
She opened her eyes slowly, gazing up at him with the enigmatic mystery of a Siamese cat. The hunger in his eyes blazed with a silvery fire, and she felt her own need rise to meet it. Strength flowed back into her limbs, and she knew suddenly that she wanted more than anything to give him the same kind of pleasure he had given her.
With a strength and abandonment that surprised her, Kendall pushed against his chest until he rolled onto his back. She rose on his chest and then lowered her mouth to his, nibbling playfully on his lower lip, savoring the sweetness of their passion.
Feverishly, she explored his face and throat with her mouth, delighting in the clean, faintly salty taste of his skin. She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, then flicked her tongue into the swirling inner ear, letting him feel her warm breath.
“Blow in my ear….” The absurd jingle popped into her mind, and Kendall fought an insane desire to giggle. Her hell-bent humor …!
Thrusting the thought away, she let her lips trail down his neck until they reached his hair-rough chest. It rose and fell in time to his harsh breathing, and she spared a moment to look up and meet his eyes, her own darkened with desire.
“Witch,” he grated softly, his hands shaping her shoulders and then sliding down her back. “Where did you learn this?”
“Ask my teacher,” she murmured huskily, a particularly feminine little smile curving her lips.
Without waiting for a response, she dipped her head again, her lips searching for and finding the flat masculine nipples. She heard him groan softly and the sound spurred her on, a dizzying sense of power mounting to her head.
More than once in her life Kendall had been called upon to defend herself physically, and she had learned to do so quite skillfully. As she’d half seriously told Hawke, she knew several methods of causing pain, nasty little tricks picked up from several somewhat questionable acquaintances. But that ability to defeat someone twice her size had never given Kendall a feeling of power. That had been survival, pure and simple. But this…
This feeling of power, of having Hawke at her mercy, was strange and exciting. A brief illusion to be cherished for its brevity.
Glorying in the feeling, she caressed his nipples, using her tongue and teeth, and aware of an avid hunger she’d never known before. Her fingers tugged at the fine black hair on his chest, and then she moved lower, her mouth following the trail of hair arrowing down his flat stomach. She felt a heady need to explore every inch of his body, to know it as well as he knew hers.
Instinct guided her, curiosity fueled her desire. She had never known that a man’s body could be so beautiful, and she went a little crazy in her attempt to imprint each strong characteristic on her mind and heart.
Her fingers trailed over his stomach and beyond, something inside of her dimly
astonished at the soft, satiny feel of his skin. Gently now, she touched him, only half aware when he drew in his breath sharply, harshly. Just as she had concentrated before on what he had been doing to her, she concentrated now on what she was doing.
She bent her head suddenly, tasting his strength. She heard a groan rumble from deep in his chest, and that evidence of his pleasure increased her own. Knowledge came from somewhere, from deep in herself or from the desire to please him. She was completely uninhibited, no reluctance marring this experience for either of them.
The feeling of power remained, urging her on. She was in control, and that was a fascinating experience. In no other way could she control so completely, and the woman in her reveled in that.
“Kendall!” he rasped heavily, and then the room swung crazily and she found herself on her back, staring up at him. The gray eyes contained a hot glitter. “Witch … beautiful witch. God, you’re driving me out of my mind!”
There was no gentleness in his kisses then, only driving need and a hunger that rose in a flaming fury to meet her own. Kendall clung to him eagerly, branding him with her mouth, her nails unconsciously digging into his back. She felt him move strongly and welcomed him, her body arching against his, beneath the weight that trapped and possessed.
Kendall felt herself rise to meet him, impatient, driven. She held him with all of her body, using muscles she’d been unaware of until then, and saw the surprise and sudden flickering excitement in his eyes. His face was hard and taut, the lamplight casting shadows and highlights, and Kendall wondered dizzily if there would ever be enough time to know his face in all its expressions.
Together, they moved in a graceful rhythm, as if each were a part of the other. Time vanished … or stood still … or had never existed. Only the two of them and this piercing, spiraling excitement existed. Like a runaway ocean wave, it swept them up and carried them along in a fierce rush.
