She started undressing him then, clearly set on distracting him from his resolve to resist her. Calling his last reserves of willpower, Hawk caught her wrists before she could remove his nightshirt.
“You had best leave.” His voice was harsh, strained.
“Best for whom? Not for me. And not for you, either, I suspect.”
Gritting his teeth, he gave her one last chance to withdraw. “I warn you, Skye, I won’t stop with mere caresses.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I want you, Hawk. More than I can say.”
When he was as naked as she, he ground out from between his teeth, “You’re a damned witch, do you know that?”
She didn’t smile, didn’t speak. Instead she lifted her face for a kiss. Their breath mingled as her lips brushed lightly over his.
“I know,” she whispered, “but this is our final chance to be together.”
The reminder settled the question for Hawk. He knew damned well that he ought to send her away, but the knowledge didn’t stop him from claiming her mouth and feeding on it. He knew he should demand that she return to her own bed immediately, but he wouldn’t force himself to say the words. His craving was far too strong. He wanted to fill his mouth with her taste, to fill his hands with the textures of her.
He drank of her essence while his hands roamed her smooth, bare flesh. Skye returned his kiss measure for measure, making her own craving crystal clear. Her need was as great as his own.
Hawk ceased fighting. She was utterly enchanting, and he could no more resist her than he could stop breathing. Caution vanished; resistance and uncertainty disappeared, to be replaced by hot, hungry desire.
Perhaps Skye sensed his capitulation, for her kisses shifted from his mouth to his jaw, then his throat, sipping his skin there at the hollow. She moved lower to his chest
, then abdomen. Then slowly she dropped to her knees before him. In the silvery darkness, her lips traced the line of hair that led from his belly to his loins, where his erection stood at bold attention.
Every muscle in his body tensed.
“I want to please you,” she murmured, her fingers closing around the thick shaft. He was already heavy and hard enough to burst, even before she cupped his balls, squeezing lightly.
“You do please me.…” His voice was husky with arousal, and then she leaned closer. Her tongue, a soft, warm touch, tasted him.
Hawk let out a faint groan. His hands tangled in her hair, and for a long moment, he held still and savored the pleasure while Skye caressed him with her mouth and hands … stroking, laving, suckling. And yet taking pleasure was not enough for him, so he eased her away.
“Give me the sponges,” he demanded hoarsely. Allowing her no chance to protest, he reached for the silk bag.
When she handed it over, he loosened the string and drew out a small sponge, then a small vial of liquid. “Is this brandy?”
“I believe so. I have never used it before.”
His gaze narrowed on her as she knelt at his feet. “You said you had no brandy.”
“Not enough to drink. Not enough to ward off my nightmares. Besides, I would rather use it for this purpose.”
Her answer satisfied him for the time being. Pulling Skye to her feet, he led her to the window and flung the curtains wide, the better to see her. Moonlight flooded in, filling the chamber.
Taking her hand, Hawk drew her toward the bedside table and made quick work of wetting the sponge. Then sitting on the edge of the bed, he lifted her and settled her in his lap.
He angled his head to kiss her, this time for her pleasure. His lips stroked over hers as he parted her thighs with his searching hand. She was already slick to the touch from her own feminine moisture. When he pressed the sponge deep inside her woman’s passage, Skye gasped softly at first, but seemed to grow accustomed to the chill of the brandy.
The heated wetness of their kiss wasn’t enough, either, though. His mouth abandoning its purpose, he drew back to observe her. Her skin shimmered pale in the moonlight as his palm settled over her breast, cupping the luscious weight. His thumb passed delicately over the peak, circling her aureole, then teasing the nipple into a stiff crest.
Skye gazed back at him, her blue eyes dark and sultry with wonder. Her breath quickened when his fingers left her breasts to splay over her stomach, then lower to sift through the pale curls between her thighs. Her hips strained toward him as he stroked her, one finger within her, his thumb caressing the bud of her sex. And when he increased the pressure, she closed her eyes and shuddered.
Hawk relished the heavy passion on her face. He wanted to please her, to bring her to aching arousal as she’d done to him, just as he wanted to feel her sheath clenching around his cock.
Perhaps discerning his need, Skye wordlessly shifted in his lap and made to straddle him. He aided her, arranging her astride his thighs, her knees resting on the mattress. With his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her and positioned her cleft over the swollen head of his shaft.
“Slowly,” he warned as she tried to lower herself onto his engorged length.