Soar high, p.25
Soar High, page 25
“He’s back to normal and sleeping like a rock.”
Hawk nodded.
Kneeling by the salad greens she’d planted in July, she started thinning the beets. “Sorry, little guys, but your friends need more room.”
Was she apologizing to the plants? Tenderhearted woman. “It’s good you’re here.” When she looked up, he motioned to the fall and winter plantings. “Seems no one remembered until too late last year.”
He hadn’t been around last summer, and he regretted it. He’d hung onto his resentment at Gabe far too fucking long.
Kit set a batch of tiny beet leaves in her basket. “Greenhouses are great, but what do you do when the sun pretty much doesn’t bother to rise in midwinter?”
“Use grow lights in our houses. If it’s too cold, the greenhouse isn’t worth the energy to heat.” Solar energy only went so far when there was too little daylight.
Mako’s house also had grow lights, but would she still be here then?
The thought of her leaving was like getting gutted.
Shocked at the pain, Hawk stared down at her. Jesus fuck, had he fucking fallen for her?
Unable to get past the idea, he watched her picking peppers.
After she added a couple of tomatoes and lifted her basket, he took it from her. “I got it.”
“Um, okay.” Her brow furrowed as she looked at him.
He carried her produce and his back to Mako’s cabin. After setting it on the kitchen island, he hesitated as she put away the greens. Dammit, he didn’t know what to say or do. He wanted to be with her…and continuing down this path was a fucking terrible idea.
“Hawk.” She shoved the fridge door closed and handed him a beer. “Why don’t you drink this and tell me what’s wrong.”
That wasn’t going to happen.
Something else could, though. “Where’s Aric?”
“JJ and Regan are making sugar cookies and invited him to help decorate them.”
Hawk stared. “Christ, even a bath won’t get that shit off.”
“Mmmhmm. He’ll have colorful hands until the food coloring fades.” Kit chuckled, totally unworried about her son’s appearance. Because she was the kind of mother who simply wanted her boy to be happy.
Hawk set his beer down unopened. When he put his hands around her waist, he expected her to tense.
She didn’t. Because she trusted him.
He wouldn’t betray that trust. Not ever.
Setting her palms on his chest, she tilted her head. “What are you up to, mister?”
Her dark eyes were the color of mahogany polished to a lustrous shine. “You have beautiful eyes.”
Those eyes narrowed.
So suspicious. She should be.
He smiled slightly. “Frosting cookies usually takes a while.”
It took her a moment, then her gaze lifted to her quarters upstairs.
Yep, she got it.
* * *
Dear sweet heavens, Hawk had skills.
When they’d gotten into her bedroom, he’d stripped her and somehow, she’d ended up on her back on the bed. With an evil smile, he said their time was limited so she’d need to get off quickly, and he pushed a pillow under her ass. Still clothed, he’d knelt on the bed between her legs and kissed his way down her body.
Only…he kept going. Past her breasts. Past her stomach. He edged back on the bed so he could reach her thighs. His lips were warm, his beard somehow both scratchy and soft and so distracting.
“Hawk, no,” she whispered. He’d wanted to do this in the tent, and she hadn’t let him. Obadiah—heck, all the PZs—never went down on their women, saying women were smelly and foul and nauseating.
“Kit, yes,” Hawk murmured. His big hands ran up and down her thighs, then his thumbs stroked the tender skin next to her groin. “I doubt your fuckwit husband was into this, which means it shouldn’t trigger you. Right?”
His thumbs edged inward, over the outside of her labia. Teasing her.
Her hips wiggled—and he grinned.
“I-I guess.”
“I love this.” His dark blue gaze met hers. “But if you hate it, I’ll stop.”
Darn it, it was impossible to argue with an argument like that. Especially since, if it was possible, her clit would be doing a happy dance. She used to love oral sex.
Damn Obadiah anyway. “Okay. But…but, if you don’t like it, then—”
His only response was an exasperated snort. And then he was there, his mouth on her. His tongue slid in circles around her clit, so very warm and velvety and perfect. Her hips tried to rise for more, to get him to lick her there—
And he pressed her down, even as his thumbs opened her more fully.
“Mmm. You smell like vanilla.” He licked again, moving his left hand to the top of her mound, the fingers holding her open as his right hand dropped.
His finger slid inside even as his tongue grazed over the very top of her clit.
The exquisite sensations were almost too much. “Oh. Oh.”
“Nice.” His finger began a slow in and out, as he licked the sides of her increasingly engorged nub, then closed his lips around it.
He sucked and licked, thrusting and teasing, and her world narrowed to just the slow slide of penetration, to the demanding sensation of his tongue. The pressure inside her tightened inexorably. He sucked even stronger and rubbed his tongue over the top.
“Oh, oh, oooooh.” Pleasure rolled over her, tossing her like waves on an ocean, And his tongue and finger continued drawing out more glorious spasms.
When she heard him laugh, she realized her hands were in his hair, holding him to her.
“Sorry.” She released him immediately.
He was still laughing as he moved off the bed and onto his feet. “If I go bald because I get you off, it’s a total win.”
Opening his jeans, he pushed them down to let his cock spring out.
“Come here, woman.” He pulled her down to the edge of the bed. Gently, but firmly, he lifted her legs, resting them on each side of his chest. Her butt was still elevated on a pillow, and most of her weight was on her shoulders. “Okay?”
Somehow her trigger had melted into a pool of happy goo. “Okay.”
The bed was high, and her pussy was just at the right height. He entered her slowly, giving her a moment to adjust to the startling sensation of being filled, being stretched almost to discomfort.
As he moved closer, her legs slid upward until her calves were on each side of his head, and her vagina pulsed around his thickness.
Leaning forward slightly, he sank in—and oh, having her ankles on his shoulders, let him penetrate even deeper.
His hands were free, she realized, as he leaned forward and fondled her breasts with one hand. His other hand curled around her right thigh, anchoring her as his thrusts grew stronger, faster.
He’d pound, then slow and move side-to-side, then up and down.
And her arousal wakened and grew. How did he do that to her? His fingers tugged on her nipple, squeezed, the sharply exquisite pain jolting all the way down. Her pussy clenched around him.
He laughed.
“More.” The words escaped, and she slapped her hands over her mouth.
But his gaze grew as hot as the blue flame in the center of the fire, and his smile was wicked as he trailed his fingers down her belly. The heel of his hand rested at the top of her mound and pressed down each time his shaft withdrew. His hand pulled upward when he drove in—and that tugged right on her clit too—even as his thick cock filled her completely.
Dear sweet heavens. Her toes curled.
His pace picked up, and the rhythmic sensation on her clit, the hammering inside, drove her up and up, until the heat grew into a brilliant torment.
And sent her right over.
Her legs pressed down on his shoulders, as her hips bucked. “Oh, Haaawk.” The release tore through her in a storm of sensation, whipping waves of pleasure across her body until even her hair seemed to shimmer.
“Nice.” His hand tightened on her thigh, holding her as he hammered into her. She was still coming even as he reached his peak, and she could feel the jerking of his shaft inside her.
His jaw was tight, his muscles tensed—and his eyes held hers in a long, wonderful moment.
Eventually, he moved, running his hands up and down her thighs before lowering her legs. After pulling up and zipping his jeans, he moved her up on the mattress and stretched out on top of her.
His weight pressed her into the mattress, and she stiffened, then breathed in his scent…and relaxed. For a happy moment, she kissed his jaw, his neck, because he never smelled like anyone else. So nice. “Ocean, today? And with a hint of citrus. Yesterday, it was cypress, I think.”
“Hmm?” His puzzled expression made her laugh.
She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “I like the way you smell. Even though it changes a lot.”
He snorted. “Got soap from Lillian for Christmas. She said Mako used smell to stay grounded.”
“You pick different scents depending on how you feel?”
A nod and a smile.
Huh, so which one would mean sex?
When he snorted, she realized she’d asked that aloud. Oh…drat.
“Guess. I’ll let you know when you’re right.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a guy. That means I’ll always be right.”
His laugh completed her day. “Yeah.”
He bent his head to nibble on her neck, making her sigh. “I like how you smell.”
Thank you, Frankie.
She ran her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of his body on top of hers, something she’d never thought she’d have again.
Braced on one elbow, he stroked the hair from her face and smiled down at her. When the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, she stared up at him. He looked…happy.
She’d made him happy, and without thinking, she whispered the words that she’d barely thought. “I love you.”
Shock bloomed in his eyes. “Kit.”
An apology sprang to her lips, but she held it in. Welcome or not, it was how she felt. She wouldn’t apologize for her own feelings.
He shook his head as if to say no—or that he didn’t believe her. “That isn’t—” He stopped at the sound of light footsteps downstairs.
Kit gasped. “It’s Aric.”
“Hell.” Hawk rolled off the bed.
Snatching up her clothing, Kit ran into the bathroom to dress.
A minute later, she heard the door open, and Hawk called, “Kid, what you got there—cookies?”
“I did blue,” Aric piped.
“I’ll come down,” Hawk said. The door closed, and his voice grew fainter. “I need a blue cookie.”
By the time she got downstairs, Aric was coloring at the island. Frosting streaked his face, and his fingers were blue.
She’d heard the outside door close as she’d left the bedroom. A glance through the windows showed Hawk had just left and was striding across the courtyard to his own place.
An ache set up residence in her heart.
* * *
Hawk took his troubles out onto the lake.
“I love you,” she’d said. Had to be the most beautiful melody in the world. One that drifted through his head over and over as the kayak skimmed over the water.
He paddled faster until cold drops of water sprayed over his face.
But he couldn’t escape the words, the surge of joy that’d hit, or the fucking rock-bottom realization that saying the words back would fuck them up.
He sure wasn’t the person she needed in her life. Not permanently.
He might be an okay husband; yeah, he’d do his damndest to make sure he was, but a father?
Love couldn’t fix everything.
Lifting the paddle, he let the kayak drift and listened to the soft hiss of the bow cutting water.
Near the bank, the trumpeter swans, Han and Leia, with four half-pint gray cygnets watched warily. The thought of Aric looking at him that way was a knife in the gut.
Never.
It hadn’t been that hard to take care of a quiet, timid boy. But as Aric got past the shit that’d happened with the PZs, he’d return to being a typical noisy, mouthy boy.
Kids pissed off their parents—that was just a fact of life.
Hawk traced the scar that ran down his cheek. Another fact was that children became their parents—and his father had been a monster. An abusive asshole.
That weakness was inside Hawk, just waiting for a chance to get out.
No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—risk it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ~ Ernest Hemingway
* * *
“The Prophet is dead, Captain.”
“No.” Rage swept through Nabera, and he shouted into the phone. “No!”
In the house, the handful of loyal followers living there turned to stare at him.
It couldn’t be true. It mustn’t. He yanked in a breath and evened out his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
Ezekiel worked in the Texas State Capitol building in Austin and got the news about their leader before anyone else. “A bunch of convicts started a fight, and somehow, Reverend Parrish got knocked over. The guards broke the fight up and found him on the floor. He’d been shanked. Bad. He died on the way to the hospital.”
“Why would anyone hurt our prophet?” Nabera dropped onto a chair, grief a hard knot within him. He’d followed the Reverend since the day they met years ago.
“Captain.” There was a pause, then Ezekiel cleared his throat. “The guards found no witnesses, but they think…”
“Spit it out, damn you,” Nabera snapped.
“Two of the prisoners are brothers to a woman who was in our Texas compound. They might have, uh, had a grudge. Because of her. They were in the fight.”
“They did it.” Anger raged in Nabera.
“Nobody saw anything. But seems the reverend hadn’t annoyed anyone—not enough for a murder. So, yeah, one of the brothers probably stabbed him.”
“Because of a woman.” Once again, it was a cunt at the heart of their problems. It started when Obadiah brought Kirsten into their midst. Like a serpent, she’d poisoned everything around her.
Now another traitorous bitch had spread her lies. “Women are to blame for our Prophet’s death.”
“Our Reverend is dead?” Shocked voices rose, and within minutes, there was not only grief, but fear enough to thicken the air.
Nabera pulled himself together. Parrish would expect him to be decisive. “Thank you for letting me know, Ezekiel. Will you and our Texas Zealots be all right?”
“Eh, when the Reverend was arrested and the cops descended on the compound, we went to ground. And now…”
“What?”
“I’m done, Captain. I felt I owed you the call, but I’m out.”
How many of the faithful would feel the same?
Grief mingled with fury, and Nabera was glad he had the phone pressed tightly enough to his ear that no one in the room heard how the weakling was fleeing with the other rats. Jumping off a sinking ship.
He pocketed his phone, frustration growing. He couldn’t let them leave yet. Parrish had been more than his prophet; he’d been a friend.
Cowards. If he didn’t act, the patriots here would also abandon the cause.
And he’d let them…after they did one last thing for the Prophet.
His voice came out as hard and cold as the glaciers on the mountain peaks. “My people, one woman caused the disasters that have happened. One disloyal, unnatural slut. She’s probably laughing at what she’s accomplished. Laughing at us.”
The angry expressions around him mirrored his own. “She must pay for what she’s done.”
Their faith called for vengeance. For action.
For blood and death.
On Wednesday, Hawk drove into town, still out of sorts. Nightmares had kept him awake, then he’d spent the morning and afternoon in his floatplane, and nothing had gone right. Landing on a lake, he’d almost run into a submerged log. He’d flown a guy and his injured dog out and to a veterinarian, and the poor lab’s pained whining had twisted Hawk’s gut. Then two climbers showed up an hour late, and he’d had to throttle his anger and remind himself that strangling customers might have consequences.
Pity, that.
Now, despite his plan to avoid Kit and Aric until he found the right words to tell her his decision, he’d been railroaded into this task. The Hermitage gang were grilling the salmon Audrey and Gabe had caught early this morning. Since Hawk wasn’t cooking, JJ had asked him to pick up the kids at summer school.
He sighed, pulled over to the gravel shoulder, and parked his pickup in front of the pair of clapboard buildings. After a landslide destroyed the school last winter, Bull loaned out a couple of houses Mako had owned for the spring semester classes. One of the teachers was using a building for her informal “summer school” and an older-child day care.
Inside, Hawk headed for the dining room, which served as the daycare for preschool-aged children. A batch of short tables and chairs filled one end. Stick-figure-type artwork—like the pictures on his fridge—covered a corkboard wall.
At least half a dozen rugrats darted around the room like bats in a mosquito-rich environment.
“Hey, Hawk,” Erica called from where she was putting shoes on a little boy. Her mother was the teacher responsible for this zoo. According to Knox, the young woman had recently dropped out of college to consider her career choices.
Hawk nodded to her.
“I heard you’re picking up Aric today. He’s in the reading circle.” Erica motioned to a corner with a round, bright red rug and green beanbag chairs.
Yeah, there was Aric in a chair, immersed in a picture book.
Hawk started across the room and paused to admire the clay animals on a table. Some of the kids had done damn clever work.
A tinny-sounding “mooo-mooo-mooo” caught his attention. A little girl was pushing buttons on a white plastic gameboard that lay at Aric’s feet. When she pressed a green button a loud “meow” sounded.
