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Dance In My Heart

Chapter Three

“So how long have you been a writer?” Hawk sat next to Candice on the soft grass beside the lake. They’d spent hours wandering the grounds and now rested beneath a shade tree, eating fry bread.

“All my life,” she answered with a proud smile. “Ever since I can remember.”

Blood pumped through him as his eyes rested on her rosy lips and her long, slender neck. He wanted to taste her. He decided at that moment, he would taste her. Soon.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice sounding breathless.

“I want to kiss you.”

She swallowed hard and the muscles in her neck contracted slightly. He nearly groaned aloud. “So why don’t you?”

She didn’t have to ask him twice. He put the paper plate on the ground beside him without taking his eyes from hers. He lowered his mouth toward hers slowly, leaving her room to change her mind. But he prayed to whatever god would listen that she wouldn’t. By the time he reached her lips, he thought he would die with wanting. He’d never before felt such a pull of attraction to a woman before. He’d had flings, even one bona-fide relationship, in college. But nothing, no one, had ever tempted him like this before.

Finally, his lips met hers. He kissed her briefly, barely nipping her bottom lip with his teeth. She parted her lips and raised her face to grant him more intimate contact. This time, he did groan as he took her face in both his hands and deepened the kiss. She tasted sweet, like her name. He knew she would. Her tongue played with his as he swirled it inside her mouth in an ancient erotic rhythm. She leaned into him, her breasts brushing the breastplate of his regalia. He wanted out of it. He wanted to feel her sliding naked against him. He was no expert, but based on her reaction to his hands stroking through her hair, she wanted it too.

Could he risk it? Did he dare?

She moaned into his mouth and he knew he would.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers. Through heaving breaths, he panted, “How far is your hotel?”

“Twenty minutes,” she breathed. I’m parked right over there.”

“I have my Indian. I’ll follow you.”

She smiled broadly. “Your ‘Indian’?”

He laughed from somewhere deep inside, where he’d never known he existed. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I’ve heard it from just about everyone already. But I didn’t name the damn bike.”

~* * *~

Candice couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She raced through traffic like a woman possessed, ignoring the other drivers, except the man on the bright red motorcycle directly behind her. He’d changed his clothes at the park. He went into the tipi like a man out of time, and came out wearing thigh hugging faded blue denim jeans, a white T-shirt and black leather jacket. Under one arm, he tucked a shining black helmet. He’d taken the feathers and leather out of his hair, which lifted from his shoulders as the wind kicked it.

Her sweating palms slid over the steering wheel. She was really going to do it. Propriety be damned, she was going to ravish him. Heat pooled in her womb and throbbed through her limbs as she maneuvered her rented Corsica around a semi tractor-trailer. Nearly missing her exit, she swerved in front of the truck. The air horn reverberated around her. She laughed. She’d never been this crazy in her life. What was wrong with her?

She didn’t care.

Checking the rearview mirror, she found Hawk keeping pace with her. Good. If she’d lost him, she’d just die. Her tires squealed as she made a sharp left into the parking garage of her hotel. She skidded to a halt on the first level. Hawk pulled into a space not far from hers.

“Lady, you’re dangerous,” he declared as she climbed from the car.

“I can’t help it. I so rarely get to drive.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Good,” she replied over her shoulder as she led him to the elevator.

Once inside the lift, he turned on her with ferocious passion. Pushing her against the back wall, he feasted on her lips before dropping his mouth to run his tongue over her jaw. She tilted her head back as she clung to him like a drowning victim. His body pressed against hers and she felt the hardness of his erection against her belly.

“God, you taste good,” he breathed against her neck. “You’re killing me.”

His hair tickled her bare arms as he moved his body over hers. She arched against him, silently begging him to touch her. He read her mind as well as he read her body, she decided, as his firm grip found her breast and kneaded the flesh through her shirt and bra. Killing him? She teetered on the brink of damnation.

She moaned as his other hand cupped her behind and drew her pelvis into him. Her body reacted instantly and she nearly came undone.

The chime sounded and they jumped apart. His hair fell over his eyes slightly, but he never took those dark orbs from her. She checked the floor indicator over the doors as they opened to admit an elderly couple. Sixth Floor. Halfway home.

Hawk studied Candice’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes. Her chest heaved with breathless wanting, though she tried to hide it. He chuckled as she shifted uncomfortably on her long, slim legs. His mouth watered to taste her again. If he didn’t have her soon, he would burst.

The old man pushed the floor above hers.

Damn. He wouldn’t be able to touch her again until they reached her room. He drew in an unsteady breath. On the opposite side of the car from her, he inhaled her scent of sex and woman. He smiled a knowing grin, and she blushed again. What were the old couple thinking? Did they know what was about to happen between the young people sharing the elevator? He caught the silent, knowing glance the old man threw him and laughed. Yeah, the old man knew exactly what was going on.

The doors opened on the twelfth floor and Candice made a move to exit. Hawk followed her lead as the old man cleared his throat. “Have fun, kids.”

Candice stopped dead in her tracks, half in and half out of the car.

Hawk placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her forward as he answered over his shoulder. “We will, grandfather,” he laughed.

The doors closed.

“I can’t believe he just said that,” Candice declared, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

“I can. The tension in there was so thick you could cut it with a knife. They’re old... not stupid.”

Candice pulled a keycard from her satchel and struggled with the magnetic door lock. Pressing himself against her back, he moved her hair off her neck before cupping her waist in his hands. He nibbled on the back of her neck, until finally, the resistance in front of her subsided and the door swung open. Without releasing her, he followed her step for step into the large suite. She dropped her camera and satchel on the floor beside the dresser and TV stand, and spun in his arms.

He captured her mouth again, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and gently tugging on the full flesh. Damn. He was going to die, right here, right now, and he didn’t give a flying fuck.

She kissed him back, pulling him into her before running her hands inside his open jacket and sliding it off his shoulders. He let the heavy leather fall to the floor, then scooped her off her feet and carried her to the bed. His body burned wherever she touched him, trails of fire branding him like an iron.

Laying her on the bed, he stood over her and removed his T-shirt. She smiled appreciatively as her eyes roamed over his chest then settled on his buttoned jeans. He couldn’t stop the grin from escaping. She made him want to smile. Hell, she made him want to sing, for crying out loud.

She pushed herself up to her knees and slowly removed her shirt. Beneath it, a teal lace bra did little to hide her breasts from him. The dark circles of her nipples showed through the thin fabric.

“Oh, hell,” he breathed. “Eya’.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to unlace his boots. She pressed her body against him for a moment then pulled away. Where the flesh of his back had simmered for a mere moment, he now froze. His suffering lasted only a second before her naked breasts seared him. She moved his hair out of her way and trailed hot, wet kisses down his back.

He kicked his boots off and straightened. With trembling fingers he unbuttoned his jeans. When he stood to remove them, he allowed himself the luxury of turning to face her. Shock and undeniable ecstasy coursed through him. She kneeled on the bed gloriously naked. Her eyes smoldered and called to him.

The room spun, heated only by their bodies and the promise of pleasure so untamed Candice thought she might actually swoon. Like some wanton, she sat on the bed begging him silently to take her. This man she didn’t even know, but whom she knew better than herself at that moment. The twilight sky filtered through the windows, shadowing the rock hard planes of his body. He lowered his jeans, kicked them absently across the floor and joined her on the bed. They remained on their knees, the heated hurried coupling replaced with tenderness as he ran the pad of his thumb over her mouth. She licked it with the tip of her tongue and watched the heat in his eyes jump a notch.

“Are you sure?” he asked her simply, his held tilted in that way he had which meant he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Yes,” she breathed, not sure if she’d spoken aloud.

“Good.”

Then he attacked with a passionate force she’d never known a man could possess. He devoured her lips, her neck. He stoked a fire within her searching limbs until the liquid heat burned a path to her most secret places. He laid her down, separating her thighs with his leg. He played with her hair, running his dexterous fingers across her scalp, and cupped her breast with the other. When his lips found her breast, his hand moved to stroke between her thighs. He slipped a strong finger inside her and she arched against it.

“Oh, god,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop, ozawahn weenessisee. Not until you beg me to.”

“Never, never stop,” she arched against him as he continued to delve inside of her. Almost immediately, she came apart. His touch was sheer heaven and she’d witnessed the glory first hand.

He allowed her only a moment of respite before he positioned himself between her legs. His thick shaft rested at the entrance to her soul, teasing her with promised passion. “Open your eyes, ozawahn weenessisee. Look at me.”

She did as he asked and found him on the brink of losing control, if the crease in his brow were any indication. She’d never felt beautiful before. She’d never considered herself in the same vein as those women who could drive a man to distraction. But she felt beautiful now. He made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

“I want to see your eyes when I take you.”

Then he did. With all the graceful flight of his namesake, he brought her to heights of passion she’d never known existed.

~* * *~

 

©2006 Romance at Heart Magazine.

Book ©2003 by Margorie Jones.

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