Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire (21 page)

“Esther…” He barely whispered her name, and it reached her as if it were sighed by the night itself.

Her heart climbed into her throat and lodged there. The darkness that surrounded them was sheltering, protective, as if they were held within the womb of night.

Closer he came, and she felt the sands of time trickling away, closing off her option to change her mind. And with that awareness a wildness began to rise in her. Somehow she sensed that an incredible freedom waited for her on the other side of tonight, if only she didn’t back out now.

When he reached the top step and extended a hand to her, the old wave of panic caught her again. A man at the top of the stairs… So many of her nightmares began and ended with a man on the stairs. She started to back up.

“It’s okay,” Craig murmured huskily. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you, Esther. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

She believed him, didn’t she? Why else was she here with him right now, torn between desire and sudden terror of shadows from the past.

“The stairs,” she gasped. “It’s the stairs…”

“The stairs and me.” Reaching out ruthlessly, he caught her up in his arms and began walking toward the bedroom. “See,” he said soothingly. “I’m taking you away from the stairs.”

She was gasping, as if she couldn’t drag in enough air, and shaking, but she didn’t fight him. Clenching her hands so tightly they ached, she forced herself not to react to old terrors. This was Craig, not her father. This was Craig, the man who had from the very beginning been so protective of her.

He set her down gently beside her bed, then stood in front of her. With a careless flick of his wrist, he flung away the towel and bared himself to her. It was so dark, but the starshine that came through her open windows was just enough to let her see that he was a magnificent figure of a man, perfect in every line. And for some reason the sight of him was easing her fear and replacing it with something deeper, hotter.

“Esther?”

She licked her lips, nervous now in a different way. Shyly she reached for her gown and began to pull it over her head. Thank goodness it was so dark.

Suddenly his hands were there, helping her, and his voice was whispering softly that she didn’t have to do a thing, all he wanted was for her to be very sure this was what she wanted.

“Yes,” she heard herself say. “Oh, yes, please….”

Then skin met skin and the world spun away.

T
hey lay face-to-face on Esther’s bed. Craig drew her close, coaxing her head onto his shoulder, encouraging her to wrap her arms around him however she wanted. He even managed to nudge one of her legs between his, which left her feeling deliciously open and deliciously wanted.

He sprinkled kisses on her forehead and stroked her back soothingly, allowing her time to accustom herself to all the new sensations and experiences. “I’ve never made love to a virgin before,” he told her quietly.

“That’s okay. I’ve never done
any
of this before.”

There was a tremor of laughter in her voice and his heart soared. It was going to be all right, he thought. She had rediscovered her laughter, and everything was going to be just fine. His anxiety about whether he would do everything right lessened, and his passion rose another notch.

“Touch me,” he whispered raggedly. “Touch me anywhere…anyway…. It’s okay….”

Shyly she reached out to run her hands along his smooth shoulders and down over his hard chest. The sensation electrified him, causing him to gulp a deep breath and reach for his wavering self-control. Damn! Had any woman ever made him so hot so fast? If ever one had, he sure as hell couldn’t remember it.

But Esther was like a lighted match to his senses. Her shy explorations were as seductive as they were maddening, and he had to force himself to lie still beneath her caresses for fear of scaring her. He wanted to reach out and teach her the same lessons she was teaching him, wanted to stroke her smooth, warm skin the same way she was stroking him, but he restrained himself. First he wanted her to become comfortable with his male body. Then he would encourage her to become comfortable with hers.

Her hands wandered lower, tracing the contours of his abdomen, drawing achingly close to his manhood. It was torture of the most delightful kind for him, dragging a groan out of him.

The sound must have scared her, for her hand leapt away and only returned uncertainly when he managed to mutter, “That felt so damn
good…
”

Her fingers trailed down his back, branding him with fire it seemed, then across his hips and buttocks and down the back of his thighs. He loved it, loved her gentle touches and her growing boldness as she explored him, learning him.

She was getting caught up in it, too. Her breaths were coming quicker now, through her mouth, telling him that she was beginning to want him as much as he wanted her.

But he hesitated. Awareness of her virginity weighted him, making him cautious and almost reluctant. Everything would be new to her, so there was no way she could guide him to what pleased her most. There would be only trial and error, and a serious error could ruin the entire experience for her. He didn’t want that. He dreaded that.

This woman had had so little goodness in her life, and almost nothing of love. He wanted with every cell of his being to make this experience one she would cherish for the rest of her days, but there was no road map to follow, no guidebook to lead him. Worse, the passion arcing across his own nerve endings was likely to make him rough and impatient when she mostly needed gentleness and patience from him.

He gritted his teeth as her hand tentatively found its way to the thatch of hair at the juncture of his thighs, holding back another groan that he feared would scare her. He wanted her to touch him, but was almost afraid that he would lose his grip on his precarious self-control. But then her hand darted away, as if she didn’t have quite enough nerve.

That was good, he told himself, ignoring a surge of disappointment. There would be plenty of time later for him to know her most intimate touches. Right now when she was less afraid of his body, he needed to bring her on the journey with him, and lift her to the pinnacle of passion.

He nudged her gently over so that she was lying on her back. Taking care not to lean over her in a way that would seem threatening, he began to trace her contours with his fingertips. First the delicate line of her jaw—her bones felt so fragile!—then alongside her neck where he could feel her pulse steadily throbbing. Bending close, he pressed a kiss there, then resumed his exploration.

Down to her small shoulder, swallowed easily by his hand. Then to the graceful line of her collarbone, leading to the hollow at the base of her throat, where he pressed another kiss. As he did so, he heard her sharply indrawn breath, and knew that she was enjoying his touches.

Lower now his fingers wandered, passing tantalizingly between the hills of her breasts. They were small breasts, but soft and pretty and he had no trouble conjuring their image from memory. But they would have to wait, because he wanted to take this journey slowly. Carefully. Carrying her along one step at a time so that she never felt frightened.

He found her lower ribs, and traced them gently. Back and forth went his fingers, following the bones to her sides and back. He felt her stir, heard a soft gasp as he inadvertently tickled her, then felt the impatient rise of her hips.

Good. She was burning just as he was burning. The weight in his loins was heavy and hot, making him feel both edgy and slumberous. He imagined she must be experiencing a similar feeling of heaviness and anticipation. He hoped so.

Lower trailed his fingers, finding the hollow of her belly. There, between the points of her hipbones was the cradle that awaited him. Heat surged through his veins, and when he pressed his palm to her belly he felt her arch up as if to receive him.

Oh, she was responding to him. There was no doubt of that now. His touches were feeding the fire within her, and his fears began to ease a little.

Now his hand traveled lower, passing the delta between her thighs to concentrate on her legs. He heard her catch her breath again, and knew that this time the sound was one of apprehension. Recognizing it, he took his time as he traced her legs, learning the difference between them, discovering the disability of which she was so ashamed.

Yes, it was smaller, and he could feel how much weaker some of the muscles were. But there was nothing there that made her any less desirable. Nothing.

“Later,” he whispered in her ear as his hand gently massaged the thigh of her injured leg, “later I’m going to turn all the lights on and look at you. When I’m done you’ll know there’s nothing you need to hide from me.”

She caught her breath again, but before she could say anything, he plunged his tongue into the shell of her ear and sent a shudder running through her entire length.

Sweet heaven, had a woman ever been more responsive? The act of arousing her was arousing him like never before. At this very instant he could have buried himself in her and reached a height of climax that would have left him drained.

But the getting there was the fun part, and he wanted to make sure she had every bit as much fun getting there as it was possible to give her.

This time his mouth made the journey over her as he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat and onto her breast. This time he skipped nothing. Instead, drawing a low moan from her, he drew her breast into his mouth and sucked strongly, feeling her already engorged nipple enlarge even more against his tongue. His mouth was hot, her breast was cool and sweet, and he didn’t think he would ever want to let go.

She moaned again, and her entire body tried to turn toward him, telling him so very much about what she was feeling. “Craig…” she whispered his name, then was lost in a fresh wave of passion that rocked her from head to toe. An undulation passed through her like a huge wave, exciting him even more.

But they had all night and he was a determined man. He moved to her other breast, sucking just as strongly, teaching her body things it had never dreamed about itself. Damn, she was so innocently sexy!

Fresh need burst in him like a nuclear explosion. He sucked again and another groan was ripped from her.

Now! He wanted her right now!

But no, not yet. Sliding his hand downward, he slipped it between her legs. She gasped.

“Sweet…” he muttered, his thoughts getting more scattered by the moment. She
was
sweet, all dewy folds and moist creases. He rubbed her gently, giving her time to grow accustomed to his presence in that most intimate of places, then he slipped his finger between her folds and found the knot of nerves that would lead her to the pinnacle.

She cried out this time, as if his touch were too much to bear, but she didn’t pull away from him. Lifting his head from her breast, he watched intently for signs of distress as he rubbed her so very, very lightly. A whole range of expressions played across her face, and she kept her eyes tightly closed, as if she wanted nothing at all to distract her from what was happening inside her.

In the dark he smiled at her, and thought that she was incredible. Her hips began to rock insistently, and he pressed harder with his finger. She groaned and it seemed her entire body arched upward, demanding more and yet more.

He gave it to her, stroking her more firmly and sliding one of his fingers deep into her wet depths. She arched then, crying out, and her eyes opened wide in astonishment.

Perhaps the penetration hurt her a little; he couldn’t tell. But she didn’t try to push him away, nor did she complain. Instead her eyes closed and she pressed upward harder against his hand.

And then, so swiftly that it took him by surprise, she surmounted the peak with a long, low cry and convulsed against him.

Before her convulsions ended, he levered himself over her and pressed his erection to her entrance. Her eyes snapped open again, dark and glittering in the nearly lightless room. He restrained himself, suddenly remembering.

“I can’t,” he said. “I didn’t bring protection.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Shh…it’s okay. Really. Nothing will happen…”

He couldn’t restrain himself another moment. The woman was willing and he’d run out of excuses. His body demanded surcease, and his heart demanded his union with Esther. He wanted her, damn it. He was through considering consequences.

He slipped into her almost effortlessly, her discomfort evident in her suddenly indrawn breath, in the widening of her eyes.

When he hesitated, she murmured, “It’s all right. I’m okay…”

And then he drove home, carrying himself higher and higher with each thrust of his hips. To his great joy he heard her soft cries of passion yet again.

And finally she called, “Harder…oh, please…”

He obliged readily and moments later carried them both over the precipice.

He rolled off of her and let the cool night air bathe their skin for several minutes, drying them off. Then he turned toward her and cradled her as close as he could get her. A woman’s body was a miraculous gift, and Esther was more miraculous than most. She had given him a trust so profound that he felt confused. Even a little panicky.

Part of him wanted to run right now, but he figured that would be about the worst thing he could do to her. Nor would it make things any easier for him. Against his better judgment, he had given them both what they thought they wanted. What he feared now was that they both were going to discover it had been a big mistake.

That
she
was going to discover she had made a big mistake.

He hoped the spirits were in a benevolent mood.

But what now? Should he climb from the bed and return to the sofa downstairs where he kept guard each night? Or should he stay where he was and feel the gossamer web of involvement grow ever tighter?

Esther stirred against him and her hand found his cheek, resting gently there. “Thank you.”

She was
thanking
him? That had a curious effect on him, at once humbling him and terrifying him. “No, I should thank you,” he said huskily, then cleared his throat. This conversation could get heavy in a real hurry, and that was the last thing he wanted right now.

Because right now he absolutely didn’t want to have to sort through his jumbled feelings and thoughts, trying to make some sense of them so he could explain them to Esther. The last thing he wanted right now was any kind of postmortem.

So he sat up abruptly, and switched on the light. Esther made a soft gasp and tried to tug the sheet over herself.

“No,” he heard himself say, tugging the percale from her hand. “I made you a promise.”

Her blush was rosy, not only flooding her face but her shoulders and breasts as well. “Craig, no. Really, it’s not necessary…” Her voice faded away as she lost air with which to speak.

But he wouldn’t let her escape him. He had promised her something, and he always kept his promises. Never mind that he was going to back himself away from a relationship with her as quickly and gracefully as he could manage. The point was, from now on when she thought of a man looking at her body, she was going to see him and know that not everyone was revolted by her imperfection. She was going to remember that one man at least found her desirable.

Initially the experience was painful for her; he could read it in her eyes. She felt exposed and frightened of his reaction, not to mention embarrassed. But he wouldn’t let her hide from him. Instead he scattered kisses all over her, trailing them from her neck to her toes.

Yes, her leg was smaller and not as well shaped as her uninjured one, but it was hardly repulsive. He strung extra kisses over it, and made a point of staring straight at it so she would know he wasn’t avoiding it.

And finally her embarrassment faded, replaced by the blossoming of fresh passion. He kissed her everywhere again, this time lingering longer, making silent suggestions with his lips and tongue until she was in helpless thrall to the sensations he was giving her.

Then he slipped gently between her legs and drank deeply of her womanliness, giving her one of the most beautiful experiences a man could give a woman. And nothing, absolutely nothing in his life, had ever touched him as her rising cries of release touched him.