He frowned, then said, “I understand.” He drew her closer in his arms, doing no more than holding her, although he did run his hands up and down her back. Up to her neck, down, down, almost to her buttocks, he traced her spine over and over. Mindlessly, the minutes ticked by until gradually, because his body was so close to hers, Angelia became aware that the man was very aroused.
Because of her? Somehow, the knowledge was a potent stimulus to her femininity, and she felt an answering warmth spreading through her torso. “It would be better for you if I were dressed, wouldn’t it?”
He gave her one brief nod.
“Very well. Will you help me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, she felt him swallow. Odd. Strange, too, how he was slow to agree, slow to nod. At length, he said, “I will help you, as I said I would, but there is a limit to my control. This you should know.”
“What do you mean?”
He inhaled sharply, the sound making a slight hissing noise. He was otherwise silent.
She prompted again, “What do you mean, there is a limit to your control? Are you saying that your arms are growing weak from having to hold me?”
He met her question with silence, his only answer seeming to be his very breathing. At last he said, “I mean that I want you as a man wants a wife.”
Want you…as a man wants a wife.The words were erotic. They did things to her. Wonderful, warm things. And, though it seemed impossible that she could scoot in closer to him, she did manage it.
He was continuing. “But you are not a wife to me…yet…and so I must exercise control over the desires of my body.”
She didn’t know why she wasn’t shocked by such candid talk. Maybe it was because the two of themcouldtalk to each other, and often had. Or perhaps she was simply comfortable with him. Regardless, she was far from being offended. Indeed, if she were to be honest, she would admit that his confession did much to stimulate her, and gentle warmth enveloped her. Moreover, something else was happening to her, a craving for something, a stirring of something, down in her nether region, between her legs.
Was this love?
The thought was startling. Did she love this man? No. Impossible. They were worlds apart.
And yet she couldn’t deny that she wanted his touch, wanted it like she had never wanted anything else in her life.
She whispered softly, “Mr. Hawk, are you saying that you want to make love to me?”
He nodded. “Haa’he.”
It was a simple word, a Cheyenne word she knew meant “yes”, and yet its utterance here, now, sent her head spinning. She felt herself swooning, melting into him, and all at once it seemed she couldn’t get close enough to him. His skin was soft beneath her fingers, and she pressed into him, wishing that they could merge into one.
She inhaled, and the musky scent of his masculinity, combined with the fragrance of the Missouri River, filled her senses. Dear Lord, his confession was building a fire within her, for her heartbeat quickened, and she wanted more…of him…of his touch. For the first time in her life, Angelia understood on an entirely corporeal level the word “need”.
Was this, then, passion? For if it were, it was delicious. Little understanding what she did or why, she whispered, “Mr. Hawk, if it be true that you desire to make love to me, perhaps you should do so.”
Her statement certainly created an effect. He sat up straighter and jerked his head back, that he might stare directly into her eyes, as if to question her sanity.
She had already gone too far. She wanted him close…very close. She needed him…completely. Softly, she said, “The way I see it, when you saved my life, my life became yours, Mr. Hawk. And if this is something you desire?—”
“That is not how it works. You are your own person. You owe me nothing.”
“That isn’t how I see it. I feel very deeply that if this is something you want, then I should be willing to?—”
He shook his head. “No. When two people make love to each other, they do so because there is love in their hearts, not obligation.”
“I see. Does this mean, then, that you love me?”
He paused, as though he were carefully choosing his next words. “It is easier for a man to make love without being in love, than it is for a woman, I think. That is why a good man will tryto make a woman love him. She will enjoy their physical life better if she does.”
“Are you saying that you don’t love me?”
“I desire you more than I have ever desired another woman in my life.”
Angelia gulped. Did he realize that the way he had said “desire” caused her to wish to keep him in her arms…forever? But all she said in reply was “I too have a confession to make.”
