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He slid the hand back up and, as he began his rhythmic thrusts, placed it on one of her breasts and softly kneaded.
He groaned against her lips as once again he kissed her with a fierce, possessive heat.
Joylynn writhed in response and gave herself up to the rapture, drawing a ragged breath when he slid his lips down and rolled her nipple with his tongue.
She clung to him and floated, it seemed, above herself, as once again he touched her lips with his, wonderingly.
Waves of liquid heat pulsed through High Hawk’s body. He stopped his rhythmic strokes fo
r a moment to gaze at her. Her hair, the color of flame, lay softly around her shoulders.
Her eyes, the color of grass, gazed back at him, hazed over with the rapture that his thrusts were causing.
Her breasts were small, but high and full, the nipples a deep, smoky pink.
Joylynn gazed back at him, her pulse racing at seeing his dark, stormy eyes and the rapturous gaze he was giving her. Just looking at him made the raging hunger grow more intense within her.
And then he kissed her again, with a lazy warmth that left her weak, while his lean, sinewy buttocks continued to move, bringing with each thrust a feverish desire to reach the final peak. She knew it would be something she would never forget, not for the rest of her life.
Erotic heat knifed through her body, stabbing deeply into her secret places as the pleasure built and spread within her. She was flooded with emotions, all because of how she felt for this wonderful Pawnee chief.
She clung and moved with him as he groaned against her parted lips, whispering how dearly he loved her.
Suddenly explosive colors filled Joylynn’s head as the fulfillment of their togetherness finally claimed her. She arched her back, clenched her fists as she continued to hold her arms around his neck, and cried out with a passion that matched his own. She felt his body quiver and quake when he reached his own highest peak of pleasure.
Shaken with the passion he had just found in this woman’s arms, High Hawk held her for a while longer, then rolled away from her and stretched out on his back. The moon had risen, illuminating the sky with its bright fullness; the stars were like sparkling sequins against the backdrop of night.
The glow from the fire burning in front of the small lodge fell on Joylynn’s body as High Hawk turned and gazed in wonder at her.
“My love for you is forever,” he said huskily, with passion still glazing his eyes. “We will marry soon. Is that your wish?”
“I want nothing more from life than you and . . . and . . . bearing you children,” Joylynn said, tears filling her eyes at the thought of the child she had lost.
She wanted many children to help erase the thought of the one she would never have.
“I, too, want children,” High Hawk said thickly. “One in your image—”
“And several in yours,” Joylynn said, giggling.
When a breeze came across the river, brushing over her bare flesh, she shivered.
“I see that you are cold,” High Hawk said. “Come with me. I will place my buffalo robe around your shoulders until we go for your clothes.”
Joylynn went with him and was glad when he took the buffalo robe that had been used for the entrance flap of the small lodge and gently placed it around her shoulders.
She watched him dress, finding it strange that she hadn’t felt at all uneasy around him. She felt no awkwardness as she watched him slowly cover his naked body with his clothes.
Then he came and sat beside her, cradling her against him with one arm as they gazed into what remained of the fire.
Joylynn still marveled at the large rock that sat in the midst of the fire. It had lost its bright red color as its heat lessened, for the fire was burning lower and lower.
She looked over at High Hawk. “What is this small lodge for?” she asked softly.
“It is what my people call a sweat lodge,” he said, gazing over his shoulder at it. “It is a place built for the purifying of one’s body, and for prayer. I built this sweat lodge myself today. In it I took my whistle made from the wing bone of an eagle. I endured the purifying sweat as I sang sacred songs and played music on my whistle.”
“I noticed a large rock in the fire, glowing red,” Joylynn murmured. “What is its purpose?”
“Inside the sweat lodge is a small circle made from rocks,” he said, nodding. “I took hot stones from the outdoor fire, like the one you saw, which I did not use, and once inside I poured water over the stones, making steam fill the lodge. I purified myself with the steam and sage that I spread on the floor, and when I was finished I dried my body with the leaves of the sage. When I came from the lodge, even before I entered the river, I felt pure and clean.”
