The Mavericks (17 page)

“People admire perfection, but they don't want to live with it,” she said sadly.

Hawk's smile vanished. “That wouldn't be true for me.”

The knot in Suzette's stomach tightened. She didn't want to know this. She simply wanted to enjoy his nearness for the next few days. “I thought you'd already figured out I'm far from perfect. I can't cook as well as Zeke, and I can't take care of the horses as well as you. I barely remember how to ride properly.”

Hawk took her hands in his once again. “I wasn't talking about things like that. I was talking about what's inside you.”

“You haven't known me long enough to know what I'm really like.”

“I can see it in your eyes, your smile, the way you worry about Josie and Zeke even when you know there's nothing either of us can do about their situation.”

Suzette was afraid she was going to cry, which was far from what she wanted. Maybe she ought to go back to the wagon. She'd thought they could enjoy each other for the next few days with no strings attached, but now she was afraid she'd made a mistake. It was impossible not to feel something special for a man who felt about her as Hawk did. It was just as difficult not to want him to think she was special.

“For a man of few words, you certainly know how to choose the right ones.”

“It would be impossible to choose the wrong ones for you.”

Okay, she was going to cry so she might as well do it now and get it over with. If she was quick about it, maybe she wouldn't scare Hawk off. She felt the tears well in her eyes before they rolled down her cheeks. She hoped he would miss them in the dark but feared they would glisten in the moonlight.

“Why are you crying?” Hawk's fingertips touched her cheeks and gently brushed the tears away.

“It's a problem a lot of women have. You can beat us, berate us, even treat us like a slave, and we'll just grow stronger. Say something sweet and kind, and we become as fragile as butterfly wings.”

“You're as beautiful as the butterflies that fly down to Mexico every winter, then head back north in clouds of wings in the spring.”

“If you don't stop, I'll have to go back to the wagon.”

Hawk stiffened. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

She shook her head, and teardrops splashed down on her hands. “What you said was very beautiful.”

“Then why . . .” He let the sentence die away.

“Because you've made me very happy.”

“Isabelle used to say that, but I never understood.”

Giving in to an impulse, she kissed him on the cheek. “Don't try.”

Hawk reacted so strongly she was afraid she'd done something wrong.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.

The answer to that question was so complex she couldn't begin to sort it out, even for herself. Hawk's words had touched her in places she didn't know she had, had uncovered pools of emotions she'd thought were dried up. Most devastating, he'd reminded her of
things she'd long ago decided were impossible. “You said something sweet, and I wanted to thank you.”

“Don't ever do that again!” He drew back as if she'd insulted him. She could see a flash of anger in his eyes, feel it in the coldness of his withdrawal.

“Why not? What's wrong?”

“I don't want you to kiss me because I said something nice. I want you to kiss me because you care for me.”

Despite Hawk's deepening scowl, Suzette felt herself begin to smile as understanding dawned. Hawk wasn't any different from her. He didn't want bribes or reasons. He just wanted her to feel that nothing would make her happier than kissing him. He wanted to know she wasn't looking for any reward beyond the kiss itself and the way it made them feel to share it with each other.

Resting her weight on her hands, she leaned forward until her lips touched Hawk's. His lips were dry but soft, his mouth hard and unrelenting. She kissed him and felt a slight relaxing of the muscles around his mouth. She shifted her weight, lifted her right arm, slipped her hand around his neck, and pulled him toward her. He resisted only a moment before practically overwhelming her with his response.

Almost before she knew it, she was lying on her back and he was kissing her with a passion that seemed to have been heated white hot for being restrained so long. For a moment she was too overwhelmed to respond. It was one thing to say pretty words. They were nice, but they lacked the impact of physical contact. Kissing Hawk was like being caught up in a flash flood, unexpected and overpowering.

Hawk's sudden withdrawal was unwelcome. He
pushed himself up and pulled back from her. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

Suzette reached out to keep him from pulling farther away. “You startled me. You've always been so quiet, so reserved, I was unprepared.”

“You're not angry?”

She was ecstatic. Jubilant. Exultant. Hawk wanted her as much as she wanted him. She had to calm down before she did something to drive him away. “I came here tonight hoping you liked me well enough to let me stay. I never dreamed you liked me that much.” She was petrified she wouldn't be able to control her feelings for him, but was determined not to let this opportunity to experience something close to love slip from her grasp.

“I never dreamed you'd want to stay with me,” Hawk said.

“I can't imagine why any woman wouldn't want to spend the night in your arms.”

“I've never wanted just any woman.”

But he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. She could practically feel his heat despite the cooling of the night air around her. The scents of the river and sagebrush weren't nearly as strong as the scent of a man burning up with his need for a woman. She reached out to touch his arm. The hair on his arm was fine and soft. Hawk trailed his fingertips over her throat, the column of her neck.

“You're so soft,” he murmured.

She squeezed his arm, enjoying the strength of the muscles that had lifted the wagon wheel effortlessly. “You're not.”

His response was a ragged breath. She realized immediately
what she'd said and felt heat flood her cheeks. She didn't want him to think she was a blushing maiden, but she didn't want him to think she was a brazen hussy, either. She hadn't been with any man since her husband. She caressed his cheek with her hand. “I've never seen a man without facial hair. Your skin is incredibly smooth.”

“It's not just my Comanche heritage. My mother said her father had very little beard.”

She wondered if he'd ever felt inferior because he didn't have facial hair. So many men judged each other by foolish standards—how tall they were, how broad their shoulders, how big their muscles, how much whiskey they could drink before passing out, how well they could fight, how many women they could seduce, some even by the amount of hair covering their body. Some women admired those things, but most wanted something very different in a man. They wanted a man like Hawk.

“I like it,” she said, “just as I like your gleaming black eyes and thick black hair.”

“How about my dark skin?” She could feel the muscles in his shoulder tighten.

“You're the shade of a farmer who's spent the summer toiling in his fields. That's the color of honest labor and well-earned sweat. I can't think of any coloring that's more admirable.” She didn't know if he believed her, but was relieved to feel some of the tension leave his body. He lay down next to her, and she rolled on her side to face him.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why shouldn't I?”

“You know why.”

“Your being part Indian is what makes you who you are. It gives you the width of your brow and the strength of your jaw. Your upbringing has also made you prone to long periods of silence. No woman will ever have cause to say you talk too much to hear what she's trying to tell you.”

“I don't talk much to women. I don't do it well.”

She let her fingers roam over his whole face. She couldn't seem to get enough of touching him. It was like she was discovering him all over again. “I think you do it remarkably well, better than any man I've ever met.”

“That's only because I'm talking to you.”

Who could possibly have made this man think he didn't know how to talk to women? His words made her feel she was about to melt. She lay on her back, and he lifted himself on his elbow to look down at her.

“You're lovely,” he whispered. “Your skin is the color of moonlight on the water and soft as the muzzle of a newborn foal.”

His kiss was gentle yet firm, inviting her to join him, yet willing to take the lead. His touch released in her a hunger she'd tried to ignore. Its escape was so explosive it caused her whole body to shake.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

The word had barely escaped her lips before she pulled him into a kiss so fierce she was sure it would bruise her mouth. Her need was so sudden, so desperate, it scared her, but she couldn't hold back. She felt as if her soul was being nurtured for the first time in her life. It was impossible to describe the feeling of holding this man in her arms, of being held by him.
She didn't know how it was possible, but it was as if she was experiencing a man's embrace for the first time, as if everything that had gone before had ceased to exist, and her life was starting anew. She knew that was foolish, that it was wishful thinking, but it was such a wonderful dream, she didn't want to relinquish it, couldn't let it go.

“Are you sure you're not cold?” Hawk asked again.

“No one has touched me since my husband died,” she said, her voice shaking from the force of the impact his touch had on her. “But those memories can't compare to the way I feel now.”

Hawk gently rubbed her lips with his thumb. “I hope that's good.”

“It's better than that.” She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hand inside. “It's better than I ever imagined.” She let her hand roam over his chest. She explored the planes and contours that had been hidden from her sight by his shirt. She smiled when she brushed a nipple and he flinched. “You're so warm.”

“I'm so hot I'm burning up,” Hawk whispered in her ear.

She smiled more broadly and continued her exploration. Her touch caused the muscles to quiver under his skin. “I don't understand how you can feel so hard and soft at the same time.”

The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her ear, causing her body to shiver with pleasure from head to foot. She slid her hand over his rib cage, across his side, and onto his back. Yielding to her pressure, he rolled toward her until his body was pressed against her. Suzette was certain that she, too, was burning up. Her clothes felt hot and confining. She was unable to
remain still. Her body moved against Hawk, her hand roamed his back, and she covered his face with kisses.

Hawk slipped his hand between them to cover her breast. Suzette's body shuddered, and she moaned into his mouth. The heat that had centered in her belly began to spread to the rest of her body like the slow but relentless spilling of molten lava from the mouth of a volcano. Her body became so rigid she felt like she was in a splint. She moved her shoulders and arched her back to release some of the tension in her muscles, but the feel of Hawk's hand on her breast continued to wind her tight until she thought she would break.

Hawk's hand on her breast stilled. His breathing seemed to stop. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

For a moment, fear paralyzed Suzette. Her hand had closed around the back of his neck before she realized he was worried he'd somehow scared her. Gradually she relaxed her hold on him. “I've never been more sure of anything in my life.”

One by one Hawk undid the buttons from the top of her shirtwaist to the bottom. Suzette shivered slightly as the cool air touched the bare skin of her shoulders and penetrated the thin fabric of her muslin chemise. But that was nothing compared to the feel of Hawk's lips on her skin when he kissed her bare shoulder. She felt as though she would jump out of her skin; at the same time she was certain her bones would melt if he continued to touch her.

But she wanted him to touch her. Every part of her begged for it, rejoiced in it. It was all she could do to keep from throwing her arms around him and smothering
him with her need of his touch, his closeness, his caring. Except for her sister, she hadn't felt cared for since her mother died. Her stepfather's shame and her husband's indifference had left her feeling alone, divorced emotionally from the two men who should have been closest to her.

Hawk's gentle touch and sweet kisses melted away her belief that all men were hard creatures with no thought for anything but their own pleasure. The warmth of his body and the strength of his arms formed a protective shield that invited her trust, gave assurance that he cared for her. His touch stoked the fire that spiraled its way through her limbs with the sensuousness of silk being drawn across her body. The faint sound of his kisses and his soft groans of pleasure gradually closed out the world around her, reducing her consciousness to a small sphere that contained only their two bodies.

Suzette had anticipated this moment in her dreams the last two nights, but when Hawk slipped her chemise off her shoulders and she felt his tongue lave one hard nipple, she cried out so loudly she disturbed the birds asleep in nearby trees. It was at once the most wonderful, the most electrifying, feeling she'd ever experienced. He seemed to understand that for her, making love was more than a quick satisfaction of physical needs, that it was more an emotional experience than a physical one. He also had a genuine appreciation for her body and the pleasure he could give her through it. The lovemaking she'd shared with her husband had been nothing like this. Hawk had not only aroused her physical needs, he was embracing the needs of her soul and spirit as well. He'd stepped in to fill an
emptiness that had been a quiet ache for as long as she could remember.