Bittner, Rosanne (38 page)

She
returned the kiss with groaning desire, the true woman in her coming to full
life. She had not expected this to happen in the middle of the morning. Yet she
realized this was just the kind of thing to always expect from John Hawkins. He
never did anything by the rules, not even making love.

She
felt embarrassed, nervous, on fire, as he led her into the bedroom. Just like
that first time, he was immediately in full control. He pulled back the covers
and sat her down on the bed, then knelt in front of her and began unbuttoning
the front of her dress. She closed her eyes, touching his hair. "I'll have
to make the bed all over again now."

He
eased the dress off her shoulders, down her arms. "Not if we stay in it
all day."

Tess
blushed. "We can't do that."

"Why
not? Is there some law against it?"

She
smiled as he began unlacing her camisole. "At least let me..."

He
pulled the camisole open, exposing her full breasts. He leaned forward and
kissed at a taut nipple. "Let you what?" he asked, moving to her
other breast.

She
sucked in her breath at the surprising ecstasy of feeling him gently taste her
breasts. "I'm... This is hard for me... in daylight like this. Let me
finish undressing myself and get under the covers."

His
lips moved down to her belly, kissing gently. "All right." He kept
kissing at her belly, laying her back and slowly inching dress and slips over
her hips, bringing her drawers along.

"John..."
This was not what she'd just asked him. She was going to make him turn around
and let her get under the covers. He straightened up on his knees and pulled
everything off, so that she again lay there in only her open camisole and shoes
and stockings. "This isn't what I meant." She pulled a blanket over
her nakedness while he pulled off her shoes and stockings.

From
then on she knew it was useless to argue. She lay still while he stood up and
removed his shirt, his socks, which was all he wore on his feet. He pulled off
his denim pants, and she closed her eyes when he took off his long johns. How
strange that she had bathed this man many times, yet now she was embarrassed to
look at his nakedness. This was entirely different. This was not John the
injured man. This was just John, her husband, the man who wanted his woman.

She
felt his hands run under the blanket then, along her thighs. He moved up onto
the bed beside her, gently probing places only John Hawkins had touched so
beautifully. He made her want to open up to him, and whatever he was doing to
her, it made her return his kisses with wanton desire. His hair hung down
around her face, as though to shroud her sight from their nakedness, making it
easier for her to allow him to take the blanket away. His long locks brushed
gently across her face and neck as he moved down again, tasting her breasts,
her belly, tickling her stomach as he moved farther down to kiss her thighs,
kiss at the hairs that hid secret places.

His
fingers worked magic, and the urgent, almost painful desire ripple through her,
moving out to every nerve end until an explosive desire tore through her,
making her want a man as she had never wanted a man before. And that man had to
be John Hawkins.

She
dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Hawk," she whispered. It was all
she could think of to say. For some reason he was Hawk now, wild, demanding,
unbridled, lawless. "Hawk..."

Quickly
his lips were at her breasts again, her throat, her mouth; deep, probing
kisses. They lay crosswise on the bed, and she felt her head moving to the
edge. He moved between her legs, and his huge hardness was pressing against
her.

"You're
mine now, Tess Hawkins, this time completely. Tell me you love me."

She
could hardly find her voice, it was so hard to catch her breath. "You
know... I do. I love you, Hawk."

"Look
me in the eyes when you say it."

She
opened her eyes. Never had she felt so bold and daring, so on fire, so
brazen... or so sure. "I love you." She gasped then, when he moved
inside her in one quick thrust. He began a rhythmic, rocking motion that sent
her somewhere beyond reality. In moments her head hung over the side of the
bed, and she lay in naked splendor beneath him, not caring that he looked upon
that nakedness. It was all right. This was her husband, and he loved her.

John
raised up and grasped her hips, pushing deep. He'd been with his share of
women, but none had given him this kind of pleasure. The first time he'd made
love to Tess, it had been wonderously beautiful for him. But it was not like
this. This time he saw true love and want in her blue eyes. This time she was
giving all of herself to him, heart and soul, not just her body. This time it
was for her own pleasure as well as his. She was more woman than he ever
thought he would end up taking for a wife. He had hardly even given thought to
marriage until meeting Tess Carey. And when she had this baby, they would truly
be family.

His
life surged into her, and he held her tight against himself until the throbbing
finally ceased. He came down beside her then, pulling her close, moving to lie
lengthwise on the bed and pulling covers over them.

"I
don't want you to go," she said, snuggling into his shoulder.

"I
have to do this, Tess."

"I
don't know what I'd do if you never came back."

"I'll
come back."

"What
about the baby? I want you here when it's born. You have to help me learn to
love it, John."

"You
won't need any help. The minute you put him or her to your breast, you'll love
it. I already love it." He ran a big hand over her stomach. "And I
love you. I've never loved a woman like I love you."

He
moved on top of her again, and she suspected he'd really meant it when he'd
said they would stay in bed all day.

Morning
broke cold and still. Tess realized her nose was cold. It was nearing the end
of December now, and although the temperature seldom got this low in these
parts, they were having a cold spell. She moved against John, thinking how the
past week had gone by much too quickly. He was leaving today.

She
ran her hand over his solid chest, noticing how white her skin was against his.
She kissed the scar left from where a bullet had nearly killed him. Surely God
wouldn't turn around and take him from her now. Surely he would come back safe
and sound.

He
sighed deeply and turned to her. Nothing needed to be said. They could feel it.
He didn't want to leave. She didn't want him to go. Yet he would tell her
goodbye today. They had to make love once more.

How
many times had they done this since that wonderful day they'd lain in bed
together nearly all day? She could no longer remember. Every day. Every night.
They could not get enough of each other. John Hawkins was a man with big
appetites, including a healthy hunger for sex with the woman he loved. Tess
didn't mind. He had awakened an equal hunger in her she never knew she was
capable of feeling.

This
time they needed no preliminaries. This time they simply had to be united once
more, expressing their love in the most sincere way a man and woman could
express such a thing. This time she simply opened herself to him and welcomed
him inside. He slid into her gently, slowly, teasing her, wanting to stretch it
out for as long as possible.

He
knew every inch of her now, had tasted and touched every part of her. He owned
her as no other man had ever owned her. She would never belong to another man
quite this way. When John Hawkins laid claim to something, there was no
doubting his right to possession. And woe be to the man who might try to take
that possession from him or try to harm that possession. Never had she felt so
safe and contented. They moved in gentle rhythm, each fully knowing the other's
every need now, every movement.

Their
lovemaking reminded her of beautiful music. Ecstasy. That was the only word for
it. Symphonic ecstasy, their hands, lips, tongues, hot skin, privates, all the
instruments that played together. She had heard such music only once in her
life, at a concert when she was a little girl. She had never forgotten, and
making love with John Hawkins brought back the beauty of it. He had taught her
there was no shame in this. He had taken away the horror of Chino, the
disappointment of Abel. He had awakened her to the true meaning of love, and of
lovemaking.

They
moved quietly under the covers, and soon his life again surged into her. She
had no doubt that if she were not already with child, he would have made her
pregnant by now. She suspected she would be having quite a big family as long
as John Hawkins was in her bed. The child in her belly now would have plenty of
brothers and sisters.

John
settled beside her, stroking her hair. "When I get back, I'll get started
out at the ranch and we'll live a normal life, I promise."

"I
believe you." She kissed his chest. "I'll pray for you. And don't say
God won't listen. You're as good as any man out there in the streets, a far
better man than Jim Caldwell, for all his spouting about civilizing Texas and
bringing in more churches."

"Whatever
you say." He kissed her gently. "I have to get up or I'll end up
spending the day here in bed again."

"I
don't mind."

He
studied her red hair, which lay in a thick tumble against the pillow.
"God, you're beautiful, Tess Hawkins."

She
ran her fingers over his finely chiseled face, the square jaw, high cheekbones,
deep-set eyes. "And if men can be beautiful, you are the most beautiful
man I've ever seen. The other women only pretend to be shocked by you or to
disapprove of you because of your dark skin and Indian looks. Deep inside they
are as moved by the way you look as I am. They're all jealous of me, you
know."

He
grinned. "You think so?" He kissed her nose.

"I'm
sure of it."

He
laughed and rolled over, sitting up. "I doubt it. Half of them think I
ought to be hanged."

"Well,
before long they'll know the truth, who the
real
bad guy is."

He
pulled on some long johns. "I hope so." He stood up and put on a
shirt. "It's cold. You stay there while I stoke up the heating stove and
the cooking stove. I'll put on some water so we can wash. Soon as I eat some
breakfast, I'll have to leave, Tess."

Her
heart fell at the words. "Then I'll take my time making breakfast."

He
turned and met her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I
know." Her eyes teared. "Come back to me, John."

"I
always have and I always will."

A
tear slipped down her cheek. How strange that an act of horror had brought them
together, and now if it meant never knowing John Hawkins, she would not change
what had happened. As he left the room, Tess shivered into the blankets,
immediately colder just because he was gone from the bed. It was going to be
hard sleeping alone after this.

This
was taking too much time. John lit another cigarette, waiting for Don Emiliano
Cordera. The man lived like a king here in Camargo. Here, it seemed, men were
either peasants, or very wealthy. Don Emiliano was wealthy. His sprawling
stucco home sat in the middle of thousands of acres he claimed for himself, and
thousands of cattle grazed on his land.

"Señor
Hawkins, I am told." A short, wiry Mexican entered the room, wearing a
white, ruffled shirt and snug-fitting black pants. His black leather boots
reached his knees, and his thick, gray hair lay in slick waves away from his
face. A neat mustache graced his upper lip, and he smiled as he put out his
hand.
"Buenos días, señor."

John
set his cigarette in an ashtray and put out his hand.
"Buenos días.
And
you are Don Emiliano Cordera?" He towered over the man, but Cordera stood
so erect and proud that it made him seem taller than he really was.

"Sí.
Bienvenido!
Sit
down, Señor Hawkins. I will have one of my servants bring you something to
drink. I have some fine wine." He picked up a small bell and jingled it,
as he sat down himself on a black leather sofa. John sat, a small table between
him and the man, in a leather chair that matched the sofa.