by Pamela Clare
Gabe chuckled, watching her from across the table, his gaze soft, the smile on his face making her pulse trip. "Does it work?"
"No." Kat laughed with him. Oh, how she loved to see him smile! "But when I was little, I thought crows flew away from us because they were afraid they'd be next."
His smile grew. "What else did she teach you?"
"She taught me everything--how to grow food, how to use corn pollen, how to be a good Dine girl, how to ..."
Surprised to find a lump in her throat, Kat swallowed, her words lapsing into silence. She felt Gabe's big hand close over hers.
"You miss her."
Kat nodded, blinking back tears, the news about Daniels having already left her at an emotional edge. Had he been following them in hopes of getting another chance to shoot her? "My grandmother doesn't know ... She doesn't know about any of this. It would terrify her. The bone ... She'd think I've ... been witched."
Gabe's thumb stroked the back of her hand, the touch comforting. "Denver is a long way from the reservation. Why did you leave?"
Kat hadn't planned on talking about this, didn't want to talk about this, but given how hard she'd pushed him to tell her about Jill, it was only fair that she answer his question. "I'm the youngest of eleven children--my mother's youngest child. I have seven half brothers and three half sisters. My mother was married to a much older man. They grew apart, and my mother met a Bilagaanaa man."
That was it in a nutshell, and Kat hoped Gabe would understand without her needing to say more. But he didn't.
"So your mother's husband ... wasn't your father?"
"No, he wasn't." Kat looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
"Your father was a white man."
She nodded. "I ... I never met him. I don't even know his name. My mother never told me. Sometimes I doubt she knows. He stayed on the reservation only long enough to find out my mother was pregnant. Her husband divorced her after I was born. She blamed me, so my grandmother raised me."
Gabe took in what Kat had told him, trying to piece it together. So her mother had fucked some white guy, had gotten pregnant by him, and then had blamed Kat. Well, it certainly explained the color of Kat's eyes--not to mention her mistrust of men. And then he remembered what she'd told him in the restaurant.
I decided a long time ago that I would never be any man's conquest, so I don't date. I've never been with a man, and I won't be until I find the one who wants to be a part of my life and isn't just looking for a one-night stand.
Clearly, she didn't want to make the same mistake her mother had made and saw every man as just another guy looking for a quick lay, no strings attached.
You've certainly gone out of your way to prove her wrong about that, haven't you, dumbshit? No wonder she sized you up so quickly. You're a lot like her father.
As true as that might be, there was one major difference--Gabe would never have left a woman he'd gotten pregnant to face that situation alone. And he would never have abandoned his own child. Whoever Kat's father was, the man was garbage.
He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry. It couldn't have been easy growing up without a father or to have your mother leave you like that."
"She didn't leave me, at least not the way you think." Kat drew her hand away, stood, and carried their plates to the sink, clearly upset to be talking about this. "She still lives in my grandmother's hogaan. She and my brothers and sisters have never wanted me there. Only my grandmother ..."
Kat's voice trailed off, but Gabe understood.
Only her grandmother had loved her and wanted her around.
He could see how that might make a person want to leave home. "So you packed your things and moved to Denver."
Kat shook her head, her back to him as she filled the sink with water. "Not right away. I went to college and studied journalism, wanting to help my people, hoping to make a difference. I got a job in Window Rock and worked at the paper there for a while, sharing the money I earned with my family. But it didn't matter. Nothing I did changed anything. My mother says I remind her of my father. My brothers and sisters call me Half-ajo and tease me about my eyes."
Gabe heard her voice quaver and knew she was close to tears. He stood, walked over to her, and turned her to face him. "You have beautiful eyes."
She gave a shy smile, then looked up at him, her smile fading. "I'm not my mother, Gabe. And I'm not Jill. I would never promise to love a man forever and then betray him with someone else."
It was only then that it hit him.
Both of them had suffered because of another person's infidelity. She'd been blamed for the accident of her own birth, while he'd lost everything that had ever mattered to him except for his life.
And now. He hadn't lost now.
"Sweet Kat." He slid his hands into her hair, ducked down, and brushed her lips with his. "Did your grandmother tell you to avoid Bilagaanaa men?"
"No." Kat met his gaze straight on, a kind of boldness in her eyes he'd never seen before. "But she did teach me never to look a man in the eyes because when a Dine girl looks a man in the eyes, it means ... It means she wants to have sex with him."
CHAPTER 25
KAT WILLED HERSELF not to break eye contact with Gabe, her heart pounding. He stared down at her, his pupils dilated, the astonishment on his face turning to something darker, his brows bent in a frown.
He ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. "Are you sure?"
She couldn't say when she'd reached this decision. Maybe it had been this morning when she'd prayed for him, looking for some way to help him regain the part of himself Jill had stolen. Maybe it had been that terrible afternoon when he'd saved her from being shot, proving his courage. Or perhaps it had been the moment she'd realized that the wind knew him, that he belonged to this land as much as she did. Regardless, her heart had decided.
She had finally found a man who was worth it, a man she loved so much that going on without him felt unthinkable.
"Yes, I'm sure." She caught his hand where it cupped her chin and kissed his palm. "I love y--"
"Shhh!" He pressed his fingers to her lips. "Don't say it. 'Yes' is enough."
He ducked down as if to kiss her, then abruptly stopped, glancing around them. "No. Not like this."
"Gabe?"
He stepped back. "Why don't you go soak in a hot bath and pamper yourself a bit? The sun only set about an hour ago, so the water ought to still be fairly warm. There's a camping lantern on the counter."
Take a bath? Did she smell bad?
Something of her feelings must have shown on her face, because he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. "Hey, trust me, okay? If I can't be man enough to keep my hands off you like I should, then at least let me be man enough to do this right. I'll tell you when you can come out."
Confused, Kat walked into the bathroom, turned on the camping lantern, and shut the door behind her. She found herself staring at her own bemused reflection in the lantern's half-light. This certainly wasn't the response she'd expected from him.
If I can't be man enough to keep my hands off you like I should, then at least let me be man enough to do this right.
What did he mean by that?
And then her pulse began to race again as she realized what was about to happen.
Gabe was going to make love to her. Tonight.
Suddenly, she was grateful for the extra time. What she'd said a few moments ago had been entirely spontaneous. She hadn't stopped to think that it had been a couple of days since she'd shaved her legs or that she needed to brush her teeth or that she might want to take a bath first.
Quickly, she set her razor and a washcloth near the tub, then turned on the water, relieved to feel it was still quite warm. While the tub filled, she flossed and brushed her teeth and tied her hair up in a knot. Then she undressed and stepped into the soothing heat, noises coming from the other side of the door--the clanging of dishes, the opening and closing of cupboard doors, the creaking of floorboards, the front door opening
and closing again and again.
She might have tried to figure out what he was doing if she weren't so nervous. Instead, it was all she could do to focus on shaving her legs, questions chasing one after another through her mind. How much would it hurt? Would she be able to have an orgasm with him inside her? Would he compare her to Jill and be disappointed? Would he push her away afterward as he had so many women?
Stop doubting, girl. Trust yourself. Trust Gabe. Trust that you've come to this place and time for a reason.
Her belly full of butterflies, she reached for her soap, inhaled its sweet honey scent and remembered how much he seemed to like it. Then she lathered her skin, trying not to worry about things she couldn't control. She'd just pulled the plug from the bathtub drain and begun to dry herself when he knocked on the door.
"Kat? Whenever you're ready ...
Her heart gave a hard knock. Was she ready? After all these years was she ready for what was about to happen? She wrapped herself in a soft towel and drew a deep, calming breath. Then, without glancing at the mirror, she opened the bathroom door--and stared in amazement. "Oh, Gabe!"
The cabin had been transformed. The dirty dishes had been cleared from the table, and the kerosene lamps had all been stored away. Dozens of small emergency candles sat here and there on saucers and in bowls, the room warm with their radiance. Pine boughs had been wrapped around the bed's four posters and its headboard, their scent fresh and enticing. The air was warm, a strong fire burning in the woodstove.
His gaze fixed on her, Gabe stood in the middle of the room, wearing only his jeans, the candlelight giving his skin a tawny glow, seeming to accentuate the ridges and valleys of his muscles. And Kat felt that familiar flutter in her belly.
Oh, yes, she was ready--for him.
He crossed the space between them in two lazy strides, slid his fingers into her hair, and undid the knot, spilling it down her back and around her shoulders. Then he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "I can't make any promises about tomorrow, Kat, but for tonight at least, I'll do my damned best to be worth it."
Then he reached down, tugged off her towel, and let it fall to the floor.
Kat willed herself to stand strong while his gaze traveled over her body, desire naked on his face, the breath leaving his lungs in a gust.
"God, honey, you're beautiful."
But he was the beautiful one.
Hasteen nizhoni. Her beautiful man.
Barely able to breathe, she laid her hand over one of his pecs, the hard slab of muscle more than filling her palm, his nipple flat and dark. She flicked it with her thumb, watched it tighten. And then she couldn't stop herself, her hands finding their way over his chest with its mat of dark curls, over his abdomen with its ridges of hard muscle, her heart beating faster when her touch made his belly jerk. She took hold of the button that fastened his jeans, but her hands were so unsteady that it wasn't until he reached down to help her that she was able to undo it.
"Easy, honey." His voice was a deep purr.
They drew down his zipper together. He wasn't wearing underwear, his erection springing free, his hands guiding hers beneath the skin-warmed denim, over his narrow hips, and over the muscled roundness of his buttocks, as he shucked his jeans and tossed them aside. And then they were both naked, male and female, the perfection of the moment striking Kat deep in her soul.
Gabe let his gaze rake over her again, hungry for the sight of her. The scent of warm honey rose from her damp skin, one taut nipple peeking out from between strands of dark hair, her breasts rising with each rapid breath. He hadn't thought it was possible to want a woman this badly, to truly want her, to want to please her. Somehow it heightened his need for her, but it also left him feeling something he hadn't felt for a long time--bona fide nerves.
Got a case of performance anxiety, buddy?
Hell, yeah, he did. He'd never had sex with a virgin, and he didn't want to disappoint her or, worse, hurt her. And yet he was pretty sure she would feel at least some pain. If he hadn't been fairly certain it was sacrilegious, he'd have asked the Patron Saint of Men Who Fuck Virgins to help him do this right.
Shit!
"Come here." Heart hammering in his chest, he caught a finger beneath her chin, ducked down, brushed his lips over hers, gratified by the little shivers that passed through her. He would take this slowly, giving her body and her mind all the time she needed to adjust and truly enjoy it. And then ...
He fought back the desire to kiss her, instead letting her anticipation build as his mouth wandered. He tasted the honey-sweet skin of her throat, sucked her earlobe, teased the whorl of her ear with his tongue. Only when she was shaking in his arms did he bring his lips back to hers, kissing the corners of her mouth, nipping her lower lip, tracing the outline of her lips with his tongue. Then, at last, he kissed her, inhaling her whimper, his mouth filling with the taste of mint as their tongues met.
She seemed to melt in his arms, every soft, sweet inch of her pressed against him, the feminine feel of her making his body tense, a bolt of heat shearing through his gut. But if he'd thought he was in control of this kiss he was wrong. She kissed him back with all the fire in her soul, matching him stroke for stroke, her erotic exploration of his mouth blowing whatever was left of his mind. He was lost in her, lost in the scent and feel of her, need for her thrumming in his veins.
He dragged his mouth from hers and scooped her into his arms, carrying her the few short steps to the bed and stretching out beside her, his mouth retaking hers the moment her head touched the pillow. Tongues invaded, sparred, ravished, hers as much as his, teeth scraping skin, biting, nipping. But he wanted more.
He lifted his head, pinned her arms above her head with one hand, then reached down with the other to cup her breasts, teasing her petal-soft nipples into tight buds, tugging them with his fingers, flicking them with his thumb.
She gasped, then moaned, a sound of unmistakable female arousal.
"God, I love your breasts." Natural and soft, they yielded to his hand as he cupped and plumped them, their tips so sensitive that the merest flick of his thumb made her shiver. When he couldn't wait another second, he ducked down, greeted each puckered peak with an eager flick of his tongue, then closed his mouth over her right nipple and sucked.
She cried out, whimpered, arching her back, offering herself to him, her arms still pinned above her head. "Oh, Gabe, ayor anosh'ni!"
He didn't speak Navajo, but the urgency in her voice got at least some of her message across. Driven by her pleas and his own desperate hunger, he tugged on her nipple with his lips, flicked it with his tongue, suckled it, cupping her other breast with his free hand, his thumb tracing circles on the sensitive underside.
God, she was responsive! Her breathing came in shudders, her body trembling, her eyes squeezed shut, a look of torment on her sweet face. Brain buzzing with lust, he shifted his mouth to her other nipple, grazing her with the edge of his teeth, then sucking hard. He wanted to please her, wanted so goddamned bad to please her, wanted to make her burn for him the way he burned for her.
"Gabe, please!" She squirmed against him, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking relief.
He raised his head, released her wrists, and felt her fingers clench in his hair. He flicked a nipple with his tongue, teasing her. "Please what? Please stop?"
She gave a frustrated moan. "Please don't stop!"
Only too happy to oblige her, he lowered his mouth to a wet nipple, sucking and nipping her as he nudged his hand between her thighs, lifted her right leg and draped it over his hip, spreading her wide. His hand sought the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing her, working his way slowly upward.
Christ, he could feel her heat. It radiated from within her, her sultry, musky scent igniting every drop of testosterone in his blood. She whimpered his name, her nails digging into his scalp, her hips rising each time his hand drew near, then twisting in sexual frustration when he drew his hand away again. When he was certain he had her
on the edge, he cupped her damp curls--and eased a finger inside her.
She gave a breathy moan, her hot, slick vagina gripping his finger tight.
He heard himself growl like some kind of damned animal, his hips flexing as if his cock were buried inside her instead of thrusting against her thigh.
Slow down, Rossiter.
He forced breath into his lungs, doing his best to relax. He stroked her, sliding a second finger inside her, stretching her. "In a few minutes, my cock is going to be inside you, stroking you just like this."
She shivered, tensed, and he knew she found the idea both arousing and a little frightening. And that was okay, because so did he. He did not want to hurt her, but damned if he could hold back much longer.
He gathered her body's own moisture, then withdrew his fingers and rubbed the silky wetness over her clit, the little pink bud swelling at his touch. Then he penetrated her again, sliding his fingers in and out, taking care to catch her clit with each deep stroke.
Her breath came in ragged pants as he kept up the rhythm, her faced turned against his chest, her eyes squeezed shut, her body wracked with tension that seemed to arc through her and into him, shooting straight to his groin.
"I want you, Kat." His words came out in urgent whispers as he flicked her nipples with his tongue, unable to keep his mouth off her, his cock so hard it ached. "I want to fuck you so bad it hurts."
Then she gasped, seeming to hold her breath as the tension inside her peaked--and shattered. She came with a shaky sigh, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers, a look of excruciating pleasure on her beautiful face. He rode through it with her, keeping his rhythm steady, trying to make her pleasure last, raining kisses on her breasts, her throat, her lips, as the quaking inside her slowly faded.
When her climax had passed, he held her, a bittersweet ache in his chest at the sight of her lying in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her breathing soft and easy. Her hair lay in a tangle around her face, her lashes dark against her cheeks, her lips curved in the faintest of smiles.
And Gabe made up his mind. If she'd had enough, if she fell asleep, he wouldn't push her. They'd forget the whole "take my virginity" thing, and he'd just go wank in the bathroom like he'd been doing these past few days.
