Free Apache Fire by Raine Cantrell Page A

lay back and drew her to lie upon him. And with the gentleness she seemed to want, he cradled her face between his callused hands and slowly drew her head down to his.
    Her mouth was soft and hungry, mating with his. For a moment he feared the power of her as she pressed the fullness of her breasts against his chest, the whole of her body straining against him. He stroked her spine, then cupped her buttocks with his hands, bringing the soft heat of her womanhood to cradle that which made him male.
    He meant to be gentle. Her small, wild sounds drove him toward a savage need. Anglos had named him savage , and he felt one now. Hot. Powerful. Male.
    Her mouth touched his neck, her teeth caught the lobe of his ear. He courted the wildness he sensed, returning each kiss, each nip that brought pleasure and the pain of denial. Niko rolled her beneath him, a primitive moan escaping his lips as his mouth trailed to her throat, kissing her flesh, then biting, soothing and hurting before his mouth once more sought hers. He plunged his tongue deeply, withdrawing, then again claiming the warmth and rich taste of her. Soon he would make the same claim upon her body.
    His hands rose to tangle within the long length of her hair, holding her head still. He plundered the sweet giving of her lips, branding them his, as he branded upon his mind the sighs and moans he called forth from her.
    She was soft where he was hard. Despite the weight of his body on hers, she writhed against him, the soft noises she made exciting him. Even in this, the first joining of a man and a woman, the iszáń of the Chiricahua did not respond with abandon.
    Niko felt the trembling of his body, on fire as she arched her hips. He lifted himself to one side, running a hand over her breast and hip, curving his fingers over her breast to lift her nipple to his mouth.
    She cried his name, lost in a whirlwind of sensations as if the wind had caught her up and spun her around and around, always bringing her nearer to the heat of the sun.
    Even through the cloth of gown and chemise, she felt the intense wet heat of his mouth suckling her. She knew it was not the sun that scorched her skin, but Niko.
    Abruptly, he was gone. She opened her eyes to find him standing above her, his chest moving with his harsh breaths. Her own were heaving pants. “Why?” The one word was all she could whisper.
    â€œCome to me, iszáń . Without shame.”
    It took seconds to understand, for he was already stripping off his headband and shirt, unwinding the cloth belt, then removing his breechcloth. She rose and stood there on unsteady legs, forcing her hands to open the buttons on her gown. And as she watched him bare his flesh to her, so, too, did he watch her.
    â€œDo you know the courage you ask of me to do this?”
    â€œI know.”
    Angie stepped out of the gown pooled at her feet and bent to lift it up. Niko was beside her to take it.
    â€œDo you know the pleasure you are for my eyes, iszáń ?”
    â€œAm I, Niko? I want to be.”
    He caught her chin with one hand and stayed the hand she raised to untie the ribbon holding the neckline of her chemise.
    â€œYou are pleasure only for my eyes. Never will another see you. I will make you Niko’s iszáń this night. First I tell you I had already claimed you in my heart the day your brother struck you.” He placed his fingertips over her lips to silence her. “Do not ask what I cannot answer.”
    His lips touched the flesh of her throat, finding the pulse that beat with a wild call of its own. His teeth caught the end of the ribbon, and he pulled the tie free. With the rolled tip of his tongue, he opened the knot and nuzzled aside the cloth that hid her from his eyes.
    Before she could hold him, he dropped to one knee and removed his moccasins. And there he remained, waiting and watching as the soft, sheer cotton slid down her body to fall to the floor.
    He rose, and she touched his