A Woman Without Lies (28 page)

She hadn’t forgotten how it ended, pain and contempt and fury.

Hawk lifted the cloth, touched Angel’s skin gently, and reached for the antibiotic salve. He had picked it up along with his jeans—the jeans he had pulled over his swimsuit, blurring the blunt outline of his desire.

He rubbed the balm into Angel’s skin so carefully that she hardly felt it.

“How does your back feel now?” he asked after a time.

“Better,” she said, sitting up. “Much less sore.”

Angel’s words reassured Hawk, but her voice was frayed and she refused to look at him.

“Angel?”

Silently she shook her head. Her hair fell over her face, veiling her tears before Hawk could see them. He had heard them in her voice, though.

Gently he smoothed back the bright fall of hair. Tears sparkled on her eyelashes.

“I’m sorry,” Hawk said, afraid to touch her, to wound her again. “I never meant to hurt you, Angel. Not you. I didn’t realize that you were different from the others.”

Angel’s eyes opened, releasing the glittering tears. Through them she saw the pain on Hawk’s face, the regret shadowing his eyes and making his voice hoarse.

“I know that now,” she whispered.

Slowly, Hawk gathered Angel into his arms, holding her lightly, murmuring words of comfort. Tears welled transparently, for she was helpless to stop them.

Hawk’s life had been so different from Angel’s. She knew now why he had become harsh, merciless, predatory, a man with neither softness nor love in him.

Yet he wanted love, needed it, longed for it with a fierceness that would have frightened Angel if it hadn’t been so like her own hunger. She touched his cheek with a hand that shook very slightly.

“It’s all right, Hawk. Now I understand what happened. You had never known love, and I had never known hate.”

“Angel . . . ” Hawk whispered.

Her lips curved in a sad smile.

“No wonder we misjudged each other so badly,” she said. “You thought I was pretending to love. That’s what you called me, wasn’t it? An actress?”

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 over 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.

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.