Midnight Jewels

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Do you have any idea how sexy you are? I could look at you for a long time, sweet Mercy. You’re full of soft, round curves and hollows waiting to be explored. All kinds of shadow and light.”

  Mercy heard the words, but she didn’t see his face because she had closed her eyes again when he shoved the jeans down her thighs. She could feel her panties going with the denim and knew that if she lifted her lashes she would see herself completely naked in the mirror.

  Her natural inhibitions rose suddenly to assault her. “I don’t want to be the only one standing here in front of a mirror without any clothes on,” she whispered in protest.

  He laughed softly, the sound dark and sensual in her ear as he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. “Then undress me.”

  With a small cry she turned in his arms and opened her eyes to meet the lambent flames in his gaze. Something she saw there both provoked and excited her. “I want to touch you.”

  “I need to feel you touching me.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt, having to concentrate on the small task because her fingers were trembling. Croft didn’t make matters easier for her. He kept murmuring sensual promises and dropping light, unbelievably tantalizing kisses on her temple and behind her ear. His fingers played havoc with the sensitive nape of her neck as she fumbled with his garments. Never had she realized just how sensitive that part of her body was.

  Croft shrugged impatiently out of the shirt when she had it undone and then he pulled her close again. When her breasts were lightly crushed against his chest he looked into the mirror behind her and smiled. Slowly he stroked his hands down her back to the curve of her bare hips. When he let his fingertips slide along the edge of the small cleft that separated her soft buttocks, Mercy caught her breath.

  “Croft.”

  But he ignored her. His touch went lower, tracing a sensual path until he found the damp, feminine heat that told him all he needed to know about her state of readiness. As he drew his fingers through the gathering dew between her legs Mercy splayed her hands across his broad chest. Her head tipped back and a small cry was caught in her throat. She sank her nails through the crisp, curling hair and into his skin just above his flat male nipples.

  When she heard his sharp intake of breath she became conscious of what she was doing. Anxiously she looked up at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  He laughed silently, down at her. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me. But you could easily drive me out of my mind.”

  She smiled back at him, reassured. Then, with a boldness that was new to her and that she quickly discovered she enjoyed, Mercy unfastened and unzipped his jeans. The heavy shaft of his manhood spilled out into her hand, filling her fingers and thrusting far beyond to brush against her stomach. The hard, blunt shape of him was as unyielding as steel but its tip was covered in the softest of velvet. The contrast was enthralling. Mercy cradled him in her hand and stroked him gently, wonderingly.

  “You’re rather like a painting, yourself,” she said.

  “There is a great deal more to you than first meets the eye. More than I expected.” Much more, she added silently. He seemed massive, filling her fingers and pulsing with life and energy. She wondered if they were going to fit together as well as he seemed to think. She licked her lower lip and said carefully, “You’re very large, Croft.”

  Croft slipped one hand down between their bodies, raking through the soft thatch of hair at the juncture of her legs. Then, without any preamble he eased one finger just inside her hot, moist channel.

  “Oh!” Mercy’s body clenched around his invading finger and she staggered a little, releasing her intimate hold to clutch his arms for support.

  “And you’re very small,” he murmured gently. “Silky smooth. We’re going to fit perfectly. I can’t wait to get inside you and feel you around me. This isn’t going quite the way I had planned. You’re so ready for me. I thought I could draw it all out a little longer. I wanted to take the time to do it right.”

  “The way you’re going about it doesn’t seem wrong, believe me.” She swayed against him, her body filled with an unbelievable urgency.

  “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “But this isn’t the time to try to explain. Look at us, Mercy. Take a look in the mirror and see how right you are for me.”

  He moved, turning them both sideways to the reflective glass and Mercy glanced to her right, half afraid of what she might see. The sight of her slender body pressed against Croft, his hands possessively gripping the rounded globes of her derriere was disconcerting, even though she had been expecting it. She drew a deep breath, unable to take her eyes off the scene in the mirror.

  “What is it, Mercy?” Croft eased one muscular leg between her thighs, forcing her to part her legs. “Don’t we look good together? Don’t you like what you see? We’re creating a watercolor in that mirror.” He caressed her hip, moving his palm upward until it rested alongside her breast. The contrast between his bronzed fingers and her white breast was very erotic. His dark head bent over her tawny one made an equally sensual contrast. His leg tangled between hers was a bold invasion of her softness. “Sunlight and shadow”

  She pulled her gaze away from the hypnotic scene in the mirror. Her fingers sank into his shoulders as she looked up at him. The dark, husky sound of his voice was a seduction in itself. She felt very open and vulnerable as he moved his thigh gently back and forth between her legs. His muscled leg was hard and hairy and enticing, sliding up along the delicate skin of her inner thigh. She knew she was dampening him with her uncontrollable response; knew, too, that he was highly aroused by it.

  Mercy didn’t understand how he could be as aroused as she was and still so much in control. Something was wrong with the situation.

  “Croft, you’re very aware of what you’re doing, aren’t you?” she whispered, searching his narrowed gaze. He was with her every inch of the way, she thought, but there was a difference. She felt dazed and disoriented by her body’s reactions, but she sensed that Croft was still completely in command of himself. It would probably take a great deal to shake that control, much more than the expectation of one night with a woman who melted like warm honey in his arms. The knowledge hurt a little, briefly disrupting the sweet web of passion that was weaving itself around them.

  “Hush, Mercy,” he breathed, leaning down to lightly taste the skin of her bare shoulder. “Don’t cloud the moment with logic. This isn’t the time for logic and reason. This is a time to feel. Just let your body respond to me. Look at the lady in the mirror. She’s not afraid. She’s feeling free and wild and alive. She’s not going to ruin tonight with questions that can’t be answered.”

  Before Mercy could gather her glimmering thoughts to pursue those unanswerable questions, Croft was easing her down onto the carpet in front of the mirror. The last of the unexpected, unbidden wariness within her evaporated.

  Out of the corner of her eye Mercy saw the woman in the glass clinging to the man above her as he lowered himself down to cover her body with his own. When that other woman cried out and arched upward, offering her breasts to her lover’s hungry mouth, Mercy was stunned by the degree of her uninhibited response. Her hair, my hair Mercy reminded herself in a desperate effort to maintain a distinction between image and reality, fanned out on the slate gray carpet. The man in the mirror shoved his fingers into the thick, tawny mass as he carefully set his teeth to one hard nipple.

  Simultaneously Mercy felt the sensual, twisting tug as her own lover laced his hands through her hair. She sucked in her breath in wild pleasure as Croft’s teeth teased the peaks of her breasts. The woman in the mirror raised her knee and in the same instant Mercy felt the hard, muscled contour of Croft’s buttocks on the inside of her own leg.

  She was vividly aware of the waiting, pulsing masculine flesh poised between her thighs and knew the woman in the mirror was strung out on the same tight wire
of anticipation.

  “Now.” Mercy’s voice was almost soundless, but the feminine plea in it vibrated through the air. “Please, now, Croft.”

  The woman in the mirror lifted her hips in wanton, aching invitation. Mercy felt the curling silk of the hair between her legs brush against the rough, crisp nest that surrounded Croft’s jutting shaft. Croft groaned, the wordless sound hoarse and rasping in Mercy’s ear.

  “I’ve waited long enough,” he said through clenched teeth as he settled himself more intimately between her legs. “Too long. Years. Maybe forever.”

  Mercy didn’t understand what he meant, but she wasn’t in a mood to ask any more questions. He was there at the core of her body, pushing into her slowly, as if he intended to savor every centimeter of possession. And then, as if some part of her knew how thorough and undeniable that possession would be, Mercy tensed.

  The woman in the mirror dug her nails into her lover’s shoulders in sudden, silent protest as Croft forged carefully into Mercy’s tight body. Mercy felt the taut, stretching sensation that hovered on the brink of pain and held her breath, unaware of how deeply her nails were scoring Croft’s skin. Some of the delicious ache that had been driving her faded abruptly. Her senses focused on the reality of what was happening and she went taut with a sudden fear.

  “Relax,” Croft ordered gently. He held himself still with an obvious effort. He was only part way into her. He rested on his elbows, waiting for her body to ease a little around him. “You’re fighting it. There’s no rush. We’ve got all night. Don’t fight me or yourself.” His fingers brushed tangled strands of hair back from her face as he gazed intently down into her eyes.

  Mercy could feel his muscles tighten as he fought successfully to hold himself in check. “You’re so damned controlled,” she gasped. It was a stupid protest, but it was the one that flared within her as she stared up at him.

  “If I weren’t, I might hurt you tonight. You’re very tense, very tight. You must still be a little afraid of me, I think. Is it me or is it because you’ve been so long without a man?”

  “Maybe I’m nervous because you’re too sure of yourself, too much in charge of your own body.” She moved her head in restless dissatisfaction and disappointment. “I won’t be able to relax and let go until you do,” she concluded rashly. “Stop it. Stop everything. This has gone too far.”

  Something fierce lit his eyes for an instant. “You know I want you.”

  “You want to seduce me. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re an expert?”

  “I’m not a complete fool. Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

  “No,” he breathed tightly, “you’re not a fool. But you’re letting yourself get fragmented by a hundred different fears. You’ll tear yourself apart tonight if I let you.”

  “You’re the one who’s tearing me apart. Literally.”

  “You know that’s not true. I’ve told you, you’re safe with me.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She was grabbing at straws and realized it. She didn’t know what it was she hoped to accomplish. Mercy was aware only of a desperate need to provoke him out of his contained, controlled desire. She wanted him as wild as he had made her. She needed to know he was as caught up in the wonder and excitement of the moment as she was. “Do you hear me, Croft? I don’t believe you. I hardly know you. How can I possibly know what passes for honor with you? How can I trust you? A woman would be an idiot to put herself in the hands of a man who admits he’s an expert on violence. I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t trust you.”

  She felt the change in him immediately. Mercy was elated by the abrupt, trembling tension that suddenly gripped him. But when she saw the new brilliance in his eyes she feared for a moment she might have gone too far.

  “Damn it, you don’t have any choice except to believe me.” Croft’s voice was suddenly raw. “You’re going to belong to me.

  “Am I?” She was taunting him and knew that in the morning she would be appalled by her own recklessness.

  He wrapped his hands in her hair, chaining her. “Admit it,” he breathed fiercely. “Admit you want me. Say it.”

  She caught her breath and then gave him the truth, unable to deny it. “I want you.”

  “Tell me you trust me. Tell me you were lying when you said you didn’t believe you could trust me.”

  She sighed and surrendered to the rest of the truth. Her limited self-control was gone already. She didn’t have his power or his strength of will. And she wanted him so desperately. “I trust you.”

  “Thank God you don’t know how to lie to me.” His hands seized her shoulders and his mouth closed over hers with a savage eroticism that threatened to swamp Mercy. The muscles of his hips bunched as he drove himself slowly, inevitably forward.

  She felt him move within her, surging completely into her with an impact that took away her breath. Her body adjusted eagerly to his. There was no pain, only an unbelievably taut, filled sensation. Then she forgot about the woman in the mirror, forgot about everything except the sensual wonder of having Croft inside her.

  “Oh, my God, Croft.” She clung to him, wrapping her legs around him in a desperate effort to hold him as deeply as possible within her.

  “Sweet Mercy,” he muttered. It was an oath and a prayer and a hoarse shout of triumph.

  Croft held her as tightly as she held him. His fingers were clenched deeply into her soft flesh. Mercy gave herself up to the enthralling excitement, aware of her body tightening in a new and totally different way as Croft plunged into her and then withdrew in a rhythm of mounting tension.

  Mercy felt free to fly now. She yearned for stars she had never touched, sensing for the first time in her life what awaited beyond the threshold. Even as she reached out blindly, giving herself completely, she knew she didn’t fear the unfamiliar experience that awaited. Croft was with her. Together they grabbed for the shimmering conclusion to the ever-tightening spiral of sensation.

  “Yes, damn it, yes;” Croft’s guttural command came as Mercy cried out her overwhelming need for release. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

  She shuddered in his arms, sought for and found the unknown, hitherto undiscovered climax, and then reeled as it was thrust upon her.

  “Croft, oh Croft, please, I can’t stand it.” She clutched at him, burying her face against his flesh. She could taste his perspiration on her tongue as she gripped him in an agony of satisfaction.

  “Sweet Mercy, neither can I.” He sounded awed with his own passion.

  And then there was no more room for coherent words or demands. The storm of their desire broke, leaving them drenched and shuddering in throbbing release.

  It was a long time before Mercy opened her eyes. Croft was still sprawled on top of her, his weight crushing her into the carpet. She smiled to herself, tracing small circles on his shoulders with the tips of her fingers. He had his head turned away from her, facing the mirrored wall as he rested on her breast.

  Mercy was unaware that he was watching her in the mirror until she happened to glance in that direction and realized his eyes were wide open and very intent.

  She grinned impudently at him. “What do you think you’re staring at, Mr. Martial Arts Expert?”

  “You.”

  “I don’t recall giving you permission.” She teased him with her eyes and a tilted mouth.

  “I didn’t ask.” He lifted his head, slowly peeling himself away from her perspiration-slick body. “Wouldn’t be much point. You’d probably have said no. Just to be difficult.” He brushed his mouth lightly over hers. “Christ. I had no idea just how difficult you were going to be when I saw that ad for Valley in the bookseller’s catalog.”

  There was no good-natured amusement in his words, Mercy realized. He was having trouble adjusting to something and it showed. “Would it have mattered?”

&nb
sp; He shook his head in a solid negative. “No. It wouldn’t have mattered. What time do we leave in the morning?”

  Mercy froze for a few seconds. Croft said nothing. He stayed where he was, crushing her into the carpet and waited. Just waited.

  “Did you seduce me tonight in order to persuade me into taking you to Colorado?”

  “No. I would have seduced you tonight regardless of whether or not you were leaving for Colorado in the morning. I wanted you very badly. I can’t remember when I’ve wanted anything as badly as I wanted you tonight.”

  She looked up into his unyielding face and believed him. “I’m glad,” she said gently. “Because I’ve never known anything like what happened tonight.”

  “Oh, Mercy I know that. You’re so damn transparent. Just like a watercolor.” He smiled faintly and kissed the tip of her nose. “I saw the shock in your eyes when I first made you look into the mirror and watch us, and I felt the shock in you when you went wild in my arms a few minutes ago.”

  She flushed. “Proud of yourself, are you?”

  His teeth flashed in one of his rare, predatory grins. “It’s your own fault for giving me so much delightfully positive feedback.”

  “I’m not sure I like you being able to read me so well.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” He rolled lightly to his feet and reached down to pull her up beside him.

  “Will I?” Mercy eyed him assessingly.

  “Mmm.” He touched the corner of her mouth with a gentle finger. “I’m looking forward to spending a few days with you in Colorado.”

  “You mean you’re looking forward to trying to talk Gladstone out of his purchase.”