In Blackhawk's Bed

by Barbara Mccauley

  “And you’d give up living here?” he asked. “Give up your bed-and-breakfast?”

  “Sometimes a person doesn’t have a choice,” she said, the exhaustion in her voice and reddened eyes apparent.

  “You have a choice.” He leveled his gaze with hers. “You can let me help you.”

  Her brow furrowed. “How can you help me?”

  “I have a few thousand—”

  “No.” She shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely not.”

  “Hannah, for crying out loud, you can’t just—”

  “No, Seth. This is my problem, not yours. I appreciate the offer, and I thank you. But I can’t.”

  “You could pay me back in—”

  “No.”

  Frustrated, he frowned at her. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re stubborn?”

  “Never.”

  He glanced up at the ceiling, shook his head. “I’ve never met another woman like you, Hannah Michaels.”

  “What?” She laughed dryly. “Stubborn, foolish, plain, dull—”

  “Is that how you see yourself?” he asked quietly. “Is that what you think you are, plain and dull?”

  She shrugged awkwardly. “Well, for heaven’s sake, I’m not exactly Sally Siren.”

  She believed that, he thought incredulously. She really believed all that nonsense.

  He could tell her that she was wrong, very wrong, but knew she wouldn’t believe him. And since he’d made that damn promise not to touch her, it was going to be a little difficult to show her.

  “Hannah.” He put his hands on the counter, one on either side of her, and leaned in close. “That’s the biggest bunch of bull I’ve ever heard.”

  She stiffened, then her cheeks flamed red. “It is?” she said, her voice small and tight.

  “Yeah.” He dropped his head closer to hers, breathed in the faint, floral scent of her perfume. “And you know what else?”

  “What?” Her voice was barely audible.

  “I think you’re just about the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She inched her head back and frowned. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  “I wouldn’t lie, Hannah. Not to you.” He saw the suspicion in her eyes, but he saw something else, too. Desire. When she licked her lips in a nervous gesture, Seth felt his blood heat up and rush through his veins. “Do you want to know what I was thinking when I watched you get out of your car a few minutes ago?”

  “What’s for dinner?” she said weakly.

  He shook his head, refusing to let her retreat behind humor. “I was wondering who you’d been with last night and today. I was thinking whoever it was, he was one lucky guy.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “I was filling in for Kristina Bridges at the Trail Drive steak house. She’s a hostess there, and she needed her weekend shift covered. Why would you think I’d been with a man?”

  “Why wouldn’t I think that?” he asked. “A woman who looks like you, alone for the weekend. All dressed up.”

  “Dressed up?” She glanced down at the skirt she wore. “I’ve had this forever.”

  “It’s pretty.” He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “I was wondering how many buttons I’d have to undo before it would slide down those long, gorgeous legs of yours.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed hard and shuddered. Probably five or six.

  Smiling, he dropped his gaze to her mouth and murmured, “And I was wondering what you had on underneath. Practical soft cotton…or smooth silk.”

  She did not respond, but she let her head fall back as she gazed up at him. Her eyelids were heavy, her breathing quick and shallow. Seth had started this, but if it was to go any further, it was up to Hannah. He wasn’t certain he could take much more himself, though.

  “Hannah,” he said huskily, “I want you. I want to make love to you.”

  Still she said nothing, made no move toward him. Her breasts rose and fell as she looked at him. She had to ask him, dammit. He thought he might die if she didn’t, but he wouldn’t touch her unless she said the words.

  “Seth,” she said at last, her voice a breathless whisper, “before you make love to me, do you think you could kiss me first?”

  Eight

  In her entire life, Hannah had never asked a man to even kiss her, let alone make love to her. And while the thought of asking still seemed awkward to her, the actual asking had not.

  She wanted Seth to kiss her, to touch her, to make love with her. How desperately she wanted that, how much she wanted him, shocked her.

  She slid her hands up his chest, felt the ripple of hard muscle under her palms. His eyes glinted like black fire as he looked down at her.

  “Kiss me.” She curled her fingers into the soft cotton of his T-shirt and pulled him closer. “Kiss me.”

  His mouth swooped down and caught hers at the same time his arms came around her. She pressed against him, wanting to be closer still. How wonderful he felt, she thought. The rock-solid feel of his tall, muscular body; the masculine scent of his skin; the taste of mint and chocolate in his mouth. Her head spun with the sensations swirling through her, her heart raced, her blood pounded in her ears.

  She wrapped her arms around his strong neck, met the hard, hot thrust of his tongue with her own. He deepened the kiss and she joined him, thrust after hungry thrust. Her skin tightened, her breasts ached with a need she’d never experienced before. How she wanted his hands on her, everywhere, and it amazed her how much she wanted her hands on him, as well.

  With a moan, he dragged his mouth from hers. “Hannah, come to my bedroom,” he said raggedly. “Come to my bed.”

  When she nodded he released her, then took her hand and brought it to his mouth. “Say it,” he murmured. “Tell me that you want me. That you want this. Be sure.”

  “I’m sure, Seth.” She shivered when his mouth moved over her hand and his teeth lightly nipped each knuckle. Currents of electricity shot up her arm. “I want you. I want you to make love to me.”

  The distance down the hall was short, but it seemed like the longest journey of Hannah’s life. With every step, logic threatened to intrude, while reason whispered warnings. He sensed her uncertainty, kissed her, whispered things no man had ever said to her, things that made her blush, things that thrilled and excited her. He told her what he wanted to do, how beautiful she was, how sexy.

  What truly amazed her was that she believed him. She felt beautiful, she felt sexy. She wanted him to do all the things to her that he’d said he would; she wanted to do things to him, too. Things she’d never done before.

  Light from the swiftly setting sun cast the bedroom in hazy shades of gray. Shadows filled the corners and dusk settled like a warm blanket. Seth closed the door and pulled her into his arms again, kissing her even as he led her across the room.

  She held on to him, rose up on tiptoes to fit her body to his when they stopped beside the bed. His hands slid over her shoulders, then down her back to her buttocks. He cupped her in his hands, caressed her as he pulled her intimately against him. The contact sent spears of fire shooting through her blood.

  His mouth blazed kisses down her neck and she dropped her head back, allowing him more freedom. She shivered at the hot breath whispering over her cheek, shuddered when his teeth nipped at her earlobe, moaned when his tongue slid over the curve of her ear.

  She heard the ragged sound of her breathing mix with Seth’s, felt his hands tighten on her rear end and move against her in a time-old rhythm of mating. He was hard, as ready for her as she was for him, but he did not seem to be in a hurry, a fact which excited her as much as frustrated her.

  This was what all the commotion about sex was about, she thought dimly. She’d heard all the whispered giggling among the women she knew, listened to Lori’s and Phoebe’s blatant confessions of ecstasy in the bedroom. But she’d never really believed it, never felt it before. Sex had been all right, but nothing that made her feel as if she’d been turned inside out, as
if every single cell in her body was raw and exposed, vibrating with need.

  While his mouth, his magical, amazing mouth, moved down her neck, she slid her hands up his strong arms. He’d wakened her senses to a level she’d never experienced before. Under her fingertips, she felt the solid, firm texture of his skin, the light sprinkling of hair on his forearms, the sinew of muscle. Her hands moved over his broad shoulders then continued up his neck. When he lifted his face to gaze down at her, she cupped his face in her hands, felt the light stubble of beard against her palm, the sensation like tiny bolts of lightning shooting from her fingertips to her toes.

  “Seth,” she whispered. “What are you doing to me?”

  “If you don’t know,” he said, his voice tight with passion, his dark eyes narrowed and fierce, “I must not be doing it right.”

  “Oh, you’re doing it right.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, then brought his mouth to hers. “You’re definitely doing it more than right.”

  He kissed her hard and deep, moved his hands over her hips and molded her curves in his palms. His fingers found the waistband of her skirt, flicked the top button from its hole, then another as he moved downward. Her skirt floated around her legs, then swirled to the floor, pooling around her feet.

  “Four,” he murmured softly.

  “Four?”

  “It took four buttons to slip this skirt off you.” His hands moved over her bottom again. “You’re wearing silk.”

  “Mystery solved,” she said, then shivered when he moved his large, callused hands down the sides of her thighs, then the fronts, his fingertips only inches from the V of her legs. “Now it’s my turn.”

  She reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled upward. He helped her by tugging the garment off and tossing it aside. She’d seen his chest before, the first day she’d met him, but it was different now. So very different. She was different.

  Boldly, she laid her palms flat on his chest and pressed her lips to his warm skin, felt the tickle of coarse hair against her nose and cheek. When she brazenly kissed his flat nipple, then licked it with her tongue, he sucked in a breath and raked his hands up her back and into her hair. Gently he tugged her head back while he kissed her again and again, until she felt dizzy and her knees went weak.

  The mattress dipped underneath them when they sank to the edge of the bed together. The shadows surrounding them had grown, but there was still enough light to see. She inched back and let her eyes feast on him. His height and powerful body had intimidated her a little at first, but now they aroused her. She wanted to feel him on top of her, underneath her, inside her.

  Her knuckles grazed the smooth, warm skin on his belly when she reached for the snap on his jeans and pulled it free. She felt his dark, fierce gaze on her as she slid his zipper slowly down.

  “Wait.” His hand covered hers.

  Confused, she watched as he moved away, then rifled through his black travel bag. After a moment, he straightened, then set the matchbook-sized package on the nightstand.

  Protection. Hannah closed her eyes, then laid her forehead on his chest when he sat back down beside her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Good.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips whisper-close to hers. “I don’t want you thinking.”

  As he laid her back on the bed and covered her mouth with his, he got his wish. She couldn’t think at all, could barely breathe. She felt the hunger in his kiss, tasted the passion, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

  He obliged her. His mouth left hers, moved down her neck while his hands slid up her bare thighs and belly. He caught the hem of her tank top in his hands and inch by agonizing inch he slipped the garment up and then over her head.

  He gazed down at her, his eyes dark with primal heat. Slowly he traced the lace edge of her bra with his fingertip, making her shiver with anticipation. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured and lowered his head.

  She gasped at the first touch of his mouth on her skin. His lips followed the same path his fingertip had taken while his hands slid up her belly to mold her breasts in his palms. Hannah squirmed under his touch, felt her heart slam against her ribs. Hurry, she wanted to say, but she seemed incapable of speech. Moaning, she raked her fingernails over his shoulders, then slid her hand up into his long, thick hair.

  In one smooth motion he flicked open the front clasp of her bra, then pushed satin and lace aside. She arched upward when he took the sensitive tip of her breast into his mouth. He stroked her with his hot, wet tongue and she dug her fingers into his scalp. While his hands kneaded and caressed, he sucked gently on her hardened nipple, sending arrows of white-hot pleasure directly to that most sensitive place at the juncture of her thighs. She writhed under him as he rose then dropped down again and gave equal attention to her other breast.

  This was too wonderful, she thought, and wondered if a person truly could die from pleasure this intense. And when he moved one hand down her belly, slipped his hand under her panties, then slid into the moist heat of her body, she was certain a person could die. He set the rhythm and gasping, she moved with him, felt the fire burning inside her as he stroked her.

  “Seth, please,” she managed. “Please.”

  He moved away, tugged his jeans and briefs down, then kicked them off. A moment later he stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at her. He leaned forward, slid her panties off, then moved between her legs. He lowered himself, then locked his gaze with hers as he entered her.

  His hands slipped under her hips, and she rose to meet him as he filled her. Again and again he moved inside her, until she was gasping his name. She felt as if she were on fire. A fire that grew hotter and hotter, the flames burning out of control.

  Her world shattered at the same time as her body. She cried out in amazement and shock as the shimmering waves of color and light rolled through her and crashed onto an unseen shore.

  Exhilarated, she held on to Seth’s strong shoulders, then brought him rolling and shuddering with her.

  He held her close to him, her back pressing against his chest and her bottom nestled intimately against his groin. She’d fallen asleep several minutes after they’d made love, and he listened to the rhythmic, soft sound of her breathing, felt the steady beat of her pulse under his hands. He pressed a light kiss to her bare shoulder, then slipped off the bed and gently covered her with the down comforter. She sighed and stirred, but she didn’t wake.

  Moonlight lit the room in tones that resembled a black-and-white photograph. Seth snagged his jeans lying on the floor and tugged them on, then his T-shirt. He stood beside the bed and gazed down at Hannah. Her hands were curled up under her chin, her blond curls tumbled around her face and across the pillow. A soft smile curved her kiss-swollen lips.

  He felt the desire rise again, felt his blood heat up, but he’d let her sleep. Lord knew the woman needed it.

  And, if he were to be honest with himself, he wasn’t so certain he was ready to touch her so soon again. He wanted her, no doubt about that. If anything, now that they had made love, he wanted her more than he had before.

  He’d made love to other women, had always enjoyed sex, but he’d never met a woman before who’d made him forget where he was or who he was. With Hannah, he felt…out of balance. It disturbed him that he wasn’t completely in control. He didn’t like it.

  He slipped quietly out of the room and headed for the kitchen. He knew she’d be hungry when she woke up, and his own stomach was letting him know it was past time to eat. He was no Emeril, but he supposed he could throw something together.

  He found carrots in the refrigerator, which he cut up and dumped in a pan with some water, then washed some big potatoes from the pantry and popped them in the microwave and turned it on. He discovered a bottle of cabernet in a top cupboard and opened it, then remembered the steaks she’d brought home from the restaurant. They were still sitting wrapped on the counter, next to the letter from her e
x.

  With a frown, Seth picked up the letter and looked at it again. Michaels Realty, the letterhead read. Brent Michaels, owner and developer. Four Oaks, Texas.

  Four Oaks was only a couple of hours from here, Seth knew. So why didn’t this jerk come see his kids? Why wasn’t he the one who took them to camp? And the biggest question of all, why the hell wasn’t he still here, with his family?

  Seth thought about Maddie and Missy. They were both beautiful, terrific little girls. How could a man walk away from his own kids? Five minutes alone with Brent Michaels, that’s all he wanted, Seth thought as he stuffed the letter back into the envelope. Five minutes just to “talk” with the guy.

  Hannah might not want his help financially, but there were other ways he could help, Seth knew. And if he played his cards right, she’d never even have to know.

  “Hey.”

  He turned at the sound of Hannah’s voice. She stood in the doorway, her hands locked behind her back as she watched him. She’d pulled her skirt and tank top back on, but he could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. Heat shot straight to his groin, and though his first impulse was to take her back to bed, he quickly tamped it down. He could control himself, dammit, he told himself. He could, and he would.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  He took a wineglass out of the cupboard and filled it. When he moved toward her, he could see the blush on her cheeks and the hesitation in her eyes. He wouldn’t give her time to think, he decided, and pulled her against him. He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her long and hard and deep.

  When he stepped back, she gripped the doorjamb with her hand to steady herself.

  “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he said and handed her the glass of wine.

  Her lips, still moist from his kiss, touched the rim of the glass. She took a sip of wine, then handed it back to him. “More than ten minutes and I wouldn’t sleep tonight.”

  “I’ve got news for you, darlin’.” One corner of his mouth curved up as he pulled her to him again. “You aren’t sleeping tonight.”