Page 62 of Native Hawk
“Like this?” he said softly.
She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and nodded.
He began moving his fingers over her flesh with a delicate precision that defied his brutal strength, eliciting a new and strange sensation in her. It seemed as if he summoned forth a goddess hidden within, for Catalina sighed and mewed and purred in a language unfamiliar to her before now.
More and more he gave her, driving her to new heights of passion. And when she didn’t think she could reach a higher plane of ecstasy, he murmured tender words in his breathy tongue, sending shivers into her ear.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
She clutched desperately at his shoulders.
A silent scream built inside her.
And then, it was as if her tight corset strings had been cut loose all at once. Crying out in relief at the welcome liberation, she arched and trembled under his touch. He groaned in empathy, and the pressure of his palm was like a soothing final kiss.
She let her eyes drift open. He was gazing down at her.
What she saw in his eyes was impossible to define. They smoldered with yearning, but there was a tenderness cradled within that desire. Sweat beaded his brow. His nostrils flared with arousal. Yet his restraint was clear in the clench of his jaw. And it was this—the gentleness that tempered his lust—that moved her beyond words and made her feel irreversibly connected to him.
Her eyes filled with tears of wonder. Incredible, life-changing words—words she’d never said to a man before—rose to her lips.
Ti amo,I love you.
But just as she would have given voice to them, the loud shatter of a glass bottle against the door split the air, splitting them apart as well.
And the moment vanished.
