Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page B

penetrating and
fierce, as if she was the one woman he dare not
love. Yet they might be mere moments away
from death.
    Makinna daringly placed a kiss on his bronze
cheek.
    Tykota's eyes flamed as if the sun was shining
through them. His mouth was only a breath away
from hers, and Makinna wanted to move that
fraction of an inch that would bring their lips
together. Even the threat of the Apaches seemed
to fade from her mind. All she was aware of
were the new feelings splintering through her
body, and the man who had aroused those
feelings in her.

    Tykota's brow furrowed, and he tried to ease
himself off her, but the movement tugged up her
gown, exposing the smoothness of her thighs.
    Makinna gasped, her eyes round with
bewilderment, as wave after wave of heat surged
through her. And she could tell by the way
Tykota suddenly went rigid that he was fighting
whatever feelings were stirring inside of him. He
trembled with the tight restraint he tried to keep
on his emotions.
    Tykota gazed down at Makinna, ran a hand
through her silken hair, and his heart raced. Like
a man in a dream, he could not stop himself,
could not control his own actions. He lowered
his head, his mouth almost on hers. "Makinna,"
he whispered, his breath gently touching her lips.
"Makinna."
    She reached up, her fingers sliding though his
thick hair. "Kiss me," she whispered.
    A raw urgency built in the pit of his stomach
and spread through his veins, his mind, his
whole being. It didn't seem to matter that the
Apache were nearby, or that they might die at
any time. In that moment, she became his
woman, his to protect, to love, to take. Just a
kiss was all he wanted, or so he thought. But
when his lips touched hers, he knew that
would never be enough. His mouth ground
against hers. His tongue explored the recesses
of her mouth, darting in and out, stirring the
heat in his belly. He wanted to know her in every way a man can know a woman. He wanted
to explore her hidden beauty and kiss every part
of her body. Wild, primitive emotions tore
through him, and he was on fire. He needed her
more than the air he breathed.

    Makinna smothered a groan as Tykota's
mouth continued to plunder hers. She felt him
harden against her thigh, and she trembled. His
body seemed to shelter her, and she thought she
would die from his nearness. Oh, what was this
weakness she felt, this awakening of her body
and spirit? Why did she wish the Apache would
stay for a very long time so she could absorb the
feel of Tykota Silverhom into her mind and
body?
    Suddenly, Tykota tore his mouth away from
hers and stared at her lips, which were swollen
from his kiss. "Makinna, I-"
    He suddenly froze. Two of the Apache were
moving down the ravine, and they were talking
excitedly. Tykota glanced quickly at the ground
where he had tackled with Makinna before
rolling her into the bushes. He'd had no time to
erase their footprints, which would be very
apparent to the Apaches' experienced eyes.
    Tykota knew that their only hope was the
encroaching darkness. The sun had almost
dropped behind the mountain, and that would
make it more difficult to see the evidence of
their presence.
    By now, Makinna realized that the Apache were moving in their direction. Her eyes
widened when Tykota reached down and clasped
the handle of his knife.

    She lay quietly, his body pressing against
hers, his face only inches away, listening to the
Apaches. The two warriors stopped so near
them that Makinna could have reached out and
touched one of them. She felt the bitter taste of
fear in her mouth. She closed her eyes, sure
that the Indians had discovered their hiding
place.
    Tense moments passed as the Indians
continued to talk. Then, Makinna's fear seemed
to melt away as she felt Tykota's body soften
into hers. She felt his every intake of breath
against her breasts, and somehow she felt he was
breathing for them both. She had such faith in