Gift of Gold (21 page)

Another deep shudder went through Jonas. Verity wrapped her arms around him and held on as if he might somehow slip away from her. She heard the sound of his deep, heaving breaths and felt his face as he buried it in her hair.

“Verity.
Verity.
”
Jonas was holding on to her as if she were his lifeline. His body was hard and fiercely aroused. “You don’t know…you can’t even guess what it means—what you did. You held on to those things and you held me here” His hands moved over her as if he were trying to assure himself that she was real. He dropped a thousand urgent little kisses into her hair, on her temple, down her throat. Hot, equally urgent words poured over her in a mixture of triumph and relief. “If only you knew what you just did. Dammit to hell, honey, I can’t explain…Not now. Not yet. I need you. God, how I need you.”

“Jonas, please, tell me what happened.” She raised her head and cradled his hard face between her palms as she tried to steady him long enough to get an explanation out of him. “What was going on just then?”

“Later,” he breathed, kissing her forcefully back into silence. “Later. Everything later. I swear. Right now I need you. I have to have you. I’m on fire for you. Put your hands on me. Feel me. Feel how much I want you. I’m going to explode.”

He caught hold of one of her wrists and pushed her hand down to where his jeans were stretched taut over a heavy erection. Verity flinched at the heat in him. She tried to free her hand but he held it where he wanted it, groaning thickly as she cradled him.

The fighter’s tension that had gripped Jonas when he entered her bedroom earlier had transformed itself into violent sexual desire. Verity could feel the change in him. She realized with a shock that the two emotions seething within him were not unrelated. The knowledge alarmed her, but before she could deal with it Jonas picked her up and tossed her lightly onto the bed. Then he yanked at the fastening of his jeans. A moment later he was naked, fully aroused and ready. His expression in the shadows was taut and intent. Muscles rippled smoothly across his shoulders as he came toward her.

Verity sucked in her breath as he lowered himself quickly to the bed and sprawled heavily on top of her. His need for her was as irresistible as the tide. She was suddenly pulsing with her own feminine desire.

His legs tangled with hers and his hands pushed up the hem of her nightgown until the material bunched around her.

“I want you,” Jonas rasped. “I want you so damn much. I have to have you. You belong to me.”

She was catching fire under his touch. His urgency was now hers. Verity twisted beneath him, responding recklessly to the relentless emotions that were driving Jonas. She was swamped with a cascade of feelings that ran the gamut from fearful excitement to an aching desire for surrender. She felt wild and free and chained all at once.

“Yes,’’ she cried out softly as his palm closed over her dampening female flesh. She arched against his possessive touch and clutched at his shoulders. “Yes, Jonas.”

He muttered a hoarse response, the words unintelligible as he shoved a knee between her legs and cradled himself in the warm space there. He bent his head to kiss the satin skin of her thigh, teeth grazing her with exquisite care.

He yanked at her nightgown, trying to jerk it off completely. Verity raised herself on one elbow to free the thin fabric, but before she could maneuver the gown over her head there was a sharp, rending sound. The delicate material parted under Jonas’s urgent grip.

The sound broke through her dazed excitement. Verity gasped. She went still.

“No. Don’t think about it. Not yet,” Jonas said huskily, pulling the offending gown free and tossing it aside. “Don’t worry about it. Think about us. Hold on to me, Verity. Put your hands on me and hold on to me the way you did in the corridor.”

She stared up at him, suddenly frightened. She was frozen beneath him. “Jonas, I don’t understand any of this.”

He swore in soft despair. Then he closed his eyes and set his teeth, struggling for mastery of himself. Verity could feel the rigid control he was exerting. Every inch of him was rock hard with muscle tension. He breathed deeply. For a timeless moment neither of them moved. Then Jonas’s eyes flicked open and she saw the smoldering fire he had managed to partially bank.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said in a dark, hoarse voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her fear began to dissolve. Verity’s fingertips stroked his shoulder in an unconsciously soothing pattern. “I know,” she whispered. And she did. She did not have any reason to fear Jonas. What she feared was the unknown that seemed to dwell within him.

Deliberately he lifted himself slightly away from her. His eyes locked with hers, telling her silently of his need as his hand slid warmly down the length of her, caressing her breasts and then the small curve of her stomach. His fingers were trembling with sensual tension when they touched the inside of her thigh. But he was in control now. He repeated his full-length stroke.

Verity couldn’t look away from him. His eyes never left hers. He held her trapped with the knowledge of his need as surely as he held her trapped in his arms. He continued his slow, sensual stroking.

“Touch me again,” he begged thickly. “Please, Verity.”

Tentatively she obeyed, trailing her fingers through the curling hair on his chest and down toward the crisp thicket that framed his manhood. She held her breath for an instant as she touched him intimately and Jonas groaned. He bent his head and found her nipple with his tongue. The delicate nub hardened quickly and he sucked it gently between his teeth.

Verity caught her breath, then she sighed and began to relax. Her legs parted willingly this time for Jonas’s gentle prodding.

“Harder,” he coaxed when she began to tease him with her fingertips. He pushed himself more heavily into her hand, dampening her palm with the evidence of his arousal.

Verity touched him more firmly, wondering at the steel in him.

“That’s it,” he breathed. Then he began touching her with equal intimacy. His strong, blunt fingers circled the small, pouting opening between her legs until it began to flower. That’s it,” he muttered again as he felt her body readying itself for him. “Ah, honey, you’re so wet and hot. You feel so good. So perfect. No need to be afraid. No need, I swear it.”

Verity trembled as her excitement bloomed quickly once more. She moved restlessly, opening herself further to his touch. He kissed her deeply as he slid one finger a short distance inside her damp channel. The erotic movement of his tongue echoed the motion of his stroking finger. The combination was wildly, unbearably thrilling.

Now it was Verity who was overcome with urgent desire. It swamped her as Jonas continued to caress her. The last of her fears vanished in the white hot heat of passion and she lifted herself against him in silent, feminine demand.

Jonas needed no further urging. He was hard and ready. She reached for him the way she had reached for him in the dark tunnel.

And he came to her, his lips raining fire on her breasts, his muscled hips pushing apart her soft thighs until his heavy shaft was poised against her body. He reached down to part her softness with long, sensitive fingers that trembled and then he drove himself into her, sheathing himself to the hilt with a shuddering groan.

The impact of his sensual invasion sent a convulsive tremor through Verity. There was no real pain this time, but, just as she had the first time, she felt too tight and too stretched. She felt invaded.

She was still too new at this, she decided. Either that or Jonas was simply too big for her. All the small, delicate muscles in her lower body felt strained to the limit. She cried out, half in passion and half in protest, only to have the soft sound cut off by Jonas’s mouth.

“Stay with me,” Jonas muttered thickly against her lips. “Don’t leave me alone. Not now. Stay with me. Hold me.”

Verity opened her eyes, her breath coming quickly as her body slowly began to adjust around him. Maybe he wasn’t too large, after all. Maybe he was just right for her. Jonas’s fingers tightened on her shoulders and she looked up to find him staring down at her with molten eyes. He started to move within her, establishing a throbbing rhythm that radiated out to every nerve ending in Verity’s body.

She felt a strange tingling, clenching sensation begin deep within her as Jonas withdrew himself almost completely and then surged back into her. She could feel the whole, heavy length of him as he opened her small passage and occupied the soft, feminine territory. The sense of being pinned and invaded gave
way to a spiraling sense of wanting that was new to her. She clung to him and felt herself tightening around him, seeking something she couldn’t quite identify.

“That’s it, honey,” Jonas grated, shuddering powerfully. His urgent words poured over her, coaxing, beseeching, commanding. “That’s the way. Give yourself to me. Let me have everything. God, I can feel you holding on to me like you’ll never let me go. So hot, so tight. You’re going to squeeze me dry. Let me get all the way inside. All the way. I don’t want to think of anything else except how good you feel…”

Verity’s shivering, violent climax took her by surprise. She had not known what to expect, but when it washed through her she knew exactly what it was. She seized it eagerly with all her might and gave herself up to it and the man who had inspired it.

“
Jonas.
”

“Oh, yes. Christ, yes. Yes.
Yes.
”
He shuddered heavily once more and then froze for an instant, eyes closed, face taut as he pumped out his own release.

And then there was only silence.

Verity came slowly back to herself, aware first of the storm that still beat against the windows and then of the weight of the man who sprawled on top of her. She lay quietly for a long moment, listening to his deep breathing while she enjoyed the lingering, relaxed contentment that pulsed within her.

So that was
what it was all about. She smiled up at the ceiling and wriggled her toes. Then another jagged shaft of lightning lit the room and she saw the rapier lying on the floor. Memory returned in a rush.

The blade appeared wet in the platinum glare of the lightning, as if it had been dampened with fresh blood. The too-white light disappeared, plunging the room into merciful shadow. Verity’s sense of peace and satisfaction shriveled.

“Jonas?” She touched his shoulder. “Jonas, are you awake?

“I’m awake.” He made no move to lift his head from her breast. She felt his warm breath on her nipple.

“Are you…are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” He yawned.

“Wait a minute,” Verity said, her tone sharpening. “Don’t you dare go to sleep on me, Jonas. I want to talk to you.”

“In the morning.”

She slapped his shoulder lightly, reprovingly. He groaned in response.

“No, not in the morning,” Verity said firmly. “Now. What in the world happened to you tonight? What made you bring that sword in here? Did you have a nightmare?”

Jonas didn’t react for so long that Verity began to fear he’d gone to sleep after all. But finally he sighed heavily and shifted himself reluctantly to lie on his back beside her. He had one arm over his eyes.

“You could call it that,” he said quietly.

“Jonas...”

He took his arm away from his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could look down at her. His expression was remote and wary but his gaze seemed brilliant in the shadows.
Florentine gold.

“It’s a long story, Verity. Are you sure you want to hear it tonight?”

“I most certainly do want to hear it tonight,” she declared firmly, pulling herself up against the pillows. “I want to know what happened. Do you have a lot of bad dreams?”

“Not if I’m careful,” he drawled wryly and sat up on the edge of the bed. “And believe me, I’ve been very careful for the past five years.” He got to his feet and paced to the window, where he stood looking out into the blackness of the storm. “You’re not going to understand or believe any of this, Verity. You’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather wait awhile. I’d rather let you get to know me better so that you can trust me.”

“I have to know what’s going on, Jonas. For better or worse, we seem to have started something. If I’m going to sleep with you, even occasionally, I must have some answers.”

His mouth crooked wryly. “So demanding. What a little despot you are, honey.”

“I have a right to know more about you, Jonas,” she insisted with grave dignity.

“I suppose that’s true. Well, we might as well get this over with as quickly as possible. You’re probably going to come unglued when you hear what I have to say.”

“It takes a lot to make me come unglued,” she stated with calm pride. “My father gave me a practical sort of education, remember? I’ve lived in a lot of places and I’ve seen a lot of things. I may have been a virgin when you met me, but I have definitely not led a sheltered life. Dad doesn’t believe in sheltering people.”

Jonas braced one hand against the steel windowsill and nodded. “Having met your father, I’m inclined to believe you. All right, here goes. Have you ever heard of something called psychometry?”

Verity was silent for a moment. This wasn’t what she had expected to hear. She had thought there would be some long explanation about nightmares and the reason behind them. She had been prepared to listen to a tale of real-life terror that still haunted Jonas.

“You mean the psychic thing?” she finally asked cautiously. “That claim that some people can touch an object and sense stuff about its history?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The psychic thing. I’ve got the ability, Verity. In spades. You accused me once of walking away from my talent, but I swear the ability I have is no talent. It’s a curse.”

Verity frowned, turning the concept over in her mind. She had never paid much attention to the so-called paranormal. She had always considered such things a matter of fad. Fads came and went. They might be interesting, but that was no reason to take them seriously. Jonas was the last person she would have thought would believe in psychic powers. It was disconcerting to find out that he did.