A Woman Without Lies

clear, burning eyes. She wanted to tell him what she had felt, what she was still feeling, but she didn’t know how. There were no words.

With lips still flushed from Hawk’s kisses, Angel gave him the only truth she knew.

“I love you, Hawk.”

Angel saw the sudden darkening of Hawk’s eyes, felt the shudder that ripped through his strong body.

“Angel,” he said hoarsely, “I didn’t mean – I didn’t expect – ” Hawk’s breath caught in his throat. He kissed Angel’s eyelids tenderly, closing them, unable to bear the emotion shining in their blue-green depths.

“I would tear out my throat rather than hurt you again,” Hawk said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve hated too long, Angel, hated too well. It’s too late for me to love.”

The hunger and regret in Hawk’s voice were a pain as great as Angel’s pleasure had been.

Her hands went up to his face, cradling him, understanding and loving him, all of him, the hatred as well as the gentleness, the cold past as well as the shimmering present. She kissed Hawk’s lips as gently as he had first kissed hers.

“It’s you I love, not the idea of love itself,” Angel said. “You don’t have to love me in return. Let me share the next weeks with you. I won’t ask for anything more. Except… ”

Angel’s eyes changed, shadows where brilliance had been.

“Don’t tell me when you’re going to leave,” she whispered. “Just go. I’ll know then that it’s over.”

“Angel,” Hawk’s said, his voice ragged.

“It’s all right, my love,” she murmured, kissing him, her eyes brilliant again. “I’m strong enough to love you and then set you free. Just don’t deny me what you can give me… a few weeks of flight on the wings of a magnificent hawk.”

Hawk’s body tightened as he resisted the gentle pressure of the hands pulling him down to Angel’s mouth. Then her tongue teased his lips, using the gliding touches he had taught her to unlock the warmth of his mouth.

“Please,” Angel whispered, “don’t deny my love.”

Chapter 24

With a nearly soundless groan, Hawk opened his lips and drank deeply of the wild sweetness that waited for him in Angel’s mouth. For a long time he knew nothing but her taste and the supple heat of her body moving against his.

Then the hunger that Hawk had kept savagely leashed threatened to explode, tearing him apart. His arms closed tightly around her, stilling the sensual motions of her body against his.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Hawk said, his voice harsh with the cost of subduing his primal hunger.

Angel looked up at him. The smile on her lips was as old as Eve.

“I’m inexperienced, not stupid,” Angel said. “I know that you gave me everything, taking nothing for yourself. Now I want to give you something.”

“Angel… Angel,” Hawk said.

His voice was tight and low as he fought against himself and the sensual promise of her body.

“Yes,” Angel said simply.

“No. I want you too much. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you again. You don’t know -!”

“Then show me, Hawk,” she interrupted.

She rubbed her lips across his chest, finding and caressing his dark male nipples with her tongue, touching him as he had touched her.

“I want to be your woman,” she said.

“Are you certain?” asked Hawk.

His voice was so tight it vibrated with suppressed emotion. He stood swiftly, as though afraid to be touching Angel if she decided not to risk his passion after all.

Angel looked up at the dark, powerful man standing so close to her. She sensed that he was remembering the first time, when he had taken her casually, carelessly, hurting her.

She saw the waiting and the strength coiled in Hawk’s muscular body, and the hunger straining against the worn fabric of his jeans. Deliberately she lifted her hand over him, holding as much of him as she could.

At the first touch of Angel’s fingers, Hawk tightened like a drawn bow. She savored the dark blaze of passion that leaped in his eyes as her hand moved over him.

“I’m sure,” Angel said. “You’ll have to teach me what you want, though. Will you mind that?”

Hawk’s answering laugh was thick, almost curt. His hips moved sinuously, increasing the pressure of Angel’s hand caressing him. Her fingernails raked lightly down, a fierce yet gentle touch she had learned from him.

With a groan, Hawk closed his hands over hers. For an instant he held her hard against the rigid ache of his desire. Then he lifted her hand, biting her palm and the soft pads of her fingers.

“When did you learn how to touch me?” he asked, his voice husky, his body hot with desire.

“You told me.”

“When?”

Angel captured one of Hawk’s hands. She bit him with the same leashed wildness he had just shown to her.

“When you did that to me,” she said.

Hawk thought of the other ways he had caressed Angel, the intimate taste of her, the soft cries and liquid fire of her pleasure. She had been inexperienced, yet she had responded to him with an abandon that had all but destroyed his control.

Innocent, generous, sensual beyond his dreams.

“Angel,” Hawk said thickly, “you deserve a better man than I am.”

“There is no better man,” she said, certainty and love in every word.

“There’s a world full of them,” Hawk retorted, his voice almost harsh.

“Not for me.”

Each word was clear, distinct.

Hawk closed his eyes, knowing that Angel was neither foolish nor insincere. He knew that she loved him whether he deserved it or not, whether he loved her or not.

He knew also that he should step back, fly away, leaving Angel to find the man she deserved to have.

“There’s nothing I can teach you but pain,” Hawk said, his voice almost desperate.

“Hawk,” Angel said softly, “there’s nothing you can teach me about pain. Everything of me that can be broken, has been. Mind, body, heart.”

“Angel,” he whispered, but could say no more.

“Don’t be afraid of hurting me,” she said. “Don’t hate yourself for making love to me. I’m not a child. I’m a woman. Your woman, Hawk. For as long as you want me.”

Slowly Angel’s hands moved to the fastening of Hawk’s jeans. Emotion seethed in her, something more than the sensual hunger that he had just taught her. The force of her emotions made her hands tremble so badly that her normally quick fingers were unresponsive.

Hawk watched Angel with dark, hooded eyes, afraid to believe she truly wanted him despite the pain he had cause her. He made no move to either help or stop Angel as her fingers fumbled at the buckle of his belt, trying to work the familiar object from a totally unfamiliar angle.

By the time the belt was finally unfastened, Angel felt clumsy and inadequate, remembering the smooth skill with which Hawk had undressed her. The metal buttons on his jeans were even worse than the buckle. It was like trying to cut her hair in a mirror. Every move she made was opposite of the one she should have made.

And then Angel realized that there were many ways to say no. Hawk had already tried most of them. He was a skilled lover. She was not.

Perhaps that was what he had been trying to say kindly. He was hungry, yes. Any man would have been in his position. Arousal wasn’t love, though. It wasn’t even caring. It was a simple biological reflex that inevitably resulted