by Nora Roberts
She didn’t speak. Her system leveled slowly, and she was helpless to hurry it. He didn’t move. He’d shifted his weight, but his arms had come around her and stayed there. She needed him to speak, to say something that would put what had happened in perspective. She’d only had one other lover and had learned not to expect.
Jonas rested his forehead against her shoulder a moment. He was wrestling with his own demons. “I’m sorry, Liz.”
He could have said nothing worse. She closed her eyes and forced her emotions to drain. She nearly succeeded. Steadier, she reached for the tangle of clothes on the floor. “I don’t need an apology.” With her clothes in a ball in her arm, she walked quickly to the bedroom.
On a long breath, Jonas sat up. He couldn’t seem to find the right buttons on Liz Palmer. Every move he made seemed to be a move in reverse. It still stunned him that he’d been so rough with her, left her so little choice in the final outcome. He’d be better off hiring her a private bodyguard and moving himself back to the hotel. It was true he didn’t want to see her hurt and felt a certain responsibility for her welfare, but he didn’t seem to be able to act on it properly. When she’d stood in the kitchen telling him what she’d been through, something had begun to boil in him. That it had taken the form of passion in the end wasn’t something easily explained or justified. His apology had been inadequate, but he had little else.
Drawing on his pants, Jonas started for his room. It snouldn’t have surprised him to find himself veering toward Liz’s. She was just pulling on a robe. “It’s late, Jonas.”
“Did I hurt you?”
She sent him a look that made guilt turn over in his stomach. “Yes. Now I want to take a shower before I go to bed.”
“Liz, there’s no excuse for being so rough, and there’s no making it up to you, but—”
“Your apology hurt me,” she interrupted. “Now if you’ve said all you have to say, I’d like to be alone.”
He stared at her a moment, then dragged a hand through his hair. How could he have convinced himself he understood her when she was now and always had been an enigma? “Damn it, Liz, I wasn’t apologizing for making love to you, but for the lack of finesse. I practically tossed you on the ground and ripped your clothes off.”
She folded her hands and tried to keep calm. “I ripped yours.”
His lips twitched, then curved. “Yeah, you did.”
Humor didn’t come into her eyes. “And do you want an apology?”
He came to her then and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her robe was cotton and thin and whirling with bright color. “No. I guess what I’d like is for you to say you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”
Her courage weakened, so she looked beyond him. “I’d have thought that was obvious.”
“Liz.” His hand was gentle as he turned her face back to his.
“All right. I wanted you. Now—”
“Now,” he interrupted. “Will you listen?”
“There’s no need to say anything.”
“Yes, there is.” He walked with her to the bed and drew her down to sit. Moonlight played over their hands as he took hers. “I came to Cozumel for one reason. My feelings on that haven’t changed but other things have. When I first met you I thought you knew something, were hiding something. I linked everything about you to Jerry. It didn’t take long for me to see there was something else. I wanted to know about you, for myself.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s impossible not to care about you.” At her look of surprise, he smiled. “You project this image of pure self-sufficiency and still manage to look like a waif. Tonight, I purposely maneuvered you into talking about Faith and what had brought you here. When you told me I couldn’t handle it.”
She drew her hand from his. “That’s understandable. Most people have trouble handling unwed mothers.”
Anger bubbled as he grabbed her hand again. “Stop putting words in my mouth. You stood in the kitchen talking and I could see you, young, eager and trusting, being betrayed and hurt. I could see what it had done to you, how it had closed you off from things you wanted to do.”
“I told you I don’t have any regrets.”
“I know.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I guess for a moment I needed to have them for you.”
“Jonas, do you think anyone’s life turns out the way they plan it as children?”
He laughed a little as he slipped an arm around her and drew her against him. Liz sat still a moment, unsure how to react to the casual show of affection. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Jerry and I were going to be partners.”
“In what?”
“In anything.”
She touched the coin on the end of his chain. “He had one of these.”
“Our grandparents gave them to us when we were kids. They’re identical five-dollar gold pieces. Funny, I always wore mine heads up. Jerry wore his heads down.” He closed his fingers over the coin. “He stole his first car when we were sixteen.”
Her fingers crept up to his. “I’m sorry.”
“The thing was he didn’t need to—we had access to any car in the garage. He told me he just wanted to see if he could get away with it.”
“He didn’t make life easy for you.”
“No, he didn’t make life easy. Especially for himself. But he never did anything out of meanness. There were times I hated him, but I never stopped loving him.”
Liz drew closer. “Love hurts more than hate.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Liz, I don’t suppose you’ve ever talked to a lawyer about Faith.”
“Why should I?”
“Marcus has a responsibility, a financial responsibility at the least, to you and Faith.”
“I took money from Marcus once. Not again.”
“Child support payments could be set up very quietly. You could stop working seven days a week.”
Liz took a deep breath and pulled away until she could see his face. “Faith is my child, has been my child only since the moment Marcus handed me a check. I could have had the abortion and gone back to my life as I’d planned it. I chose not to. I chose to have the baby, to raise the baby, to support the baby. She’s never given me anything but pleasure from the moment she was born, and I have no intention of sharing her.”
“One day she’s going to ask you for his name.”
Liz moistened her lips, but nodded. “Then one day I’ll tell her. She’ll have her own choice to make.”
He wouldn’t press her now, but there was no reason he couldn’t have his law clerk begin to investigate child support laws and paternity cases. “Are you going to let me meet her? I know the deal is for me to be out of the house and out of your life when she gets back. I will, but I’d like the chance to meet her.”
“If you’re still in Mexico.”
“One more question.”
The smile came more easily. “One more.”
“There haven’t been any other men, have there?”
The smile faded. “No.”
He felt twin surges of gratitude and guilt. “Then let me show you how it should be.”
“There’s no need—”
Gently, he brushed the hair back from her face. “Yes, there is. For both of us.” He kissed her eyes closed. “I’ve wanted you from the first.” His mouth on hers was as sweet as spring rain and just as gentle. Slowly, he slipped the robe from her shoulders, following the trail with warm lips. “Your skin’s like gold,” he murmured, then traced a finger over her breasts where the tone changed. “And so pale. I want to see all of you.”
“Jonas—”
“All of you,” he repeated, looking into her eyes until the heat kindled again. “I want to make love with all of you.”
She didn’t resist. Never in her life had anyone ever touched her with such reverence, looked at her with such need. When he urged her back, Liz lay on the bed, naked and waiting.
“Love
ly,” Jonas murmured. Her body was milk and honey in the moonlight. And her eyes were dark—dark and open and uncertain. “I want you to trust me.” He began a slow journey of exploration at her ankles. “I want to know when I look at you that you’re not afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You have been. Maybe I’ve even wanted you to be. No more.”
His tongue slid over her skin and teased the back of her knees. The jolt of power had her rising up and gasping. “Jonas.”
“Relax.” He ran a hand lightly up her hip. “I want to feel your bones melt. Lie back, Liz. Let me show you how much you can have.”
She obeyed, only because she hadn’t the strength to resist. He murmured to her, stroking, nibbling, until she was too steeped in what he gave to give in return. But he wanted her that way, wanted to take her as though she hadn’t been touched before. Not by him, not by anyone. Slowly, thoroughly and with great, great patience he seduced and pleasured. He thought as his mouth skimmed up her thigh that he could hear her skin hum.
She’d never known anything could be like this—so deep, so dark. There was a freedom here, she discovered, that she’d once only associated with diving down through silent fathoms. Her body could float, her limbs could be weightless, but she could feel every touch, every movement. Dreamlike, sensations drifted over her, so soft, so misty, each blended into the next. How long could it go on? Perhaps, after all, there were forevers.
She was lean, with muscles firm in her legs. Like a dancer’s he thought, disciplined and trained. The scent from the bowl on her dresser spiced the air, but it was her fragrance, cool as a waterfall, that swam in his head. His mind emptied of everything but the need to delight her. Love, when unselfish, has incredible power.
His tongue plunged into the heat and his hands gripped hers as she arched, stunned at being flung from a floating world to a churning one. He drew from her, both patient and relentless, until she shuddered to climax and over. When her hands went limp in his, he brought them back to his body and pleasured himself.
She hadn’t known passion could stretch so far or a body endure such a barrage of sensations. His hands, rough at the palm, showed her secrets she’d never had the chance to imagine. His lips, warmed from her own skin, opened mysteries and whispered the answers. He gentled her, he enticed her, he stroked with tenderness and he devoured. Gasping for air, she had no choice but to allow him whatever he wanted, and to strain for him to show her more.
When he was inside of her she thought it was all, and more, than she could ever want. If this was love, she’d never tasted it. If this was passion, she’d only skimmed its surface. Now it was time to risk the depths. Willing, eager, she held on to him.
It was trust he felt from her, and trust that moved him unbearably. He thought he’d needed before, desired before, but never so completely. Though he knew what it was to be part of another person, he’d never expected to feel the merger again. Strong, complex, unavoidable, the emotion swamped him. He belonged to her as fully as he’d wanted her to belong to him.
He took her slowly, so that the thrill that coursed through her seemed endless. His skin was moist when she pressed her lips to his throat. The pulse there was as quick as her own. A giddy sense of triumph moved through her, only to be whipped away with passion before it could spread.
Then he drew her up to him, and her body, liquid and limber with emotion, rose like a wave to press against his. Wrapped close, mouths fused, they moved together. Her hair fell like rain down her back. She could feel his heartbeat fast against her breast.
Still joined, they lowered again. The rhythm quickened. Desperation rose. She heard him breathe her name before the gates burst open and she was lost in the flood.
9
She woke slowly, with a long, lazy stretch. Keeping her eyes closed, Liz waited for the alarm to ring. It wasn’t often she felt so relaxed, even when waking, so she pampered herself and absorbed the luxury of doing nothing. In an hour, she mused, she’d be at the dive shop shifting through the day’s schedule. The glass bottom, she thought, frowning a little. Was she supposed to take it out? Odd that she couldn’t remember. Then with a start, it occurred to her that she didn’t remember because she didn’t know. She hadn’t handled the schedule in two days. And last night…
She opened her eyes and looked into Jonas’s.
“I could watch your mind wake up.” He bent over and kissed her. “Fascinating.”
Liz closed her fingers over the sheet and tugged it a little higher. What was she supposed to say? She’d never spent the night with a man, never awoken with one. She cleared her throat and wondered if every man awoke as sexily disheveled as Jonas Sharpe. “How did you sleep?” she managed, and felt ridiculous.
“Fine.” He smiled as he brushed her hair from her cheek with a fingertip. “And you?”
“Fine.” Her fingers moved restlessly on the sheet until he closed his hands over them. His eyes were warm and heavy and made her heart pound.
“It’s a little late to be nervous around me, Elizabeth.”
“I’m not nervous.” But color rose to her cheeks when he pressed his lips to her naked shoulder.
“Still, it’s rather flattering. If you’re nervous…” He turned his head so the tip of his tongue could toy with her ear. “Then you’re not unmoved. I wouldn’t like to think you felt casually about being with me—yet.”
Was it possible to want so much this morning what she’d sated herself with the night before? She didn’t think it should be, and yet her body told her differently. She would, as she always did, listen to her intellect first. “It must be almost time to get up.” One hand firmly on the sheets, she rose on her elbows to look at the clock. “That’s not right.” She blinked and focused again. “It can’t be eight-fifteen.”
“Why not?” He slipped a hand beneath the sheet and stroked her thigh.
“Because.” His touch had her pulses speeding. “I always set it for six-fifteen.”
Finding her a challenge, Jonas brushed light kisses over her shoulder, down her arm. “You didn’t set it last night.”
“I always—” She cut herself off. It was hard enough to try to think when he was touching her, but when she remembered the night before, it was nearly impossible to understand why she had to think. Her mind hadn’t been on alarms and schedules and customers when her body had curled into Jonas’s to sleep. Her mind, as it was now, had been filled with him.
“Always what?”
She wished he wouldn’t distract her with fingertips sliding gently over her skin. She wished he could touch her everywhere at once. “I always wake up at six, whether I set it or not.”
“You didn’t this time.” He laughed as he eased her back down. “I suppose I should be flattered again.”
“Maybe I flatter you too much,” she murmured and started to shift away. He simply rolled her back to him. “I have to get up.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Jonas, I’m already late. I have to get to work.”
Sunlight dappled over her face. He wanted to see it over the rest of her. “The only thing you have to do is make love with me.” He kissed her fingers, then slowly drew them from the sheet. “I’ll never get through the day without you.”
“The boats—”
“Are already out, I’m sure.” He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the nipple. “Luis seems competent.”
“He is. I haven’t been in for two days.”
“One more won’t hurt.”
Her body vibrated with need that slowly wound itself into her mind. Her arms came up to him, around him. “No, I guess it won’t.”
She hadn’t stayed in bed until ten o’clock since she’d been a child. Liz felt as irresponsible as one as she started the coffee. True, Luis could handle the shop and the boats as well as she, but it wasn’t his job. It was hers. Here she was, brewing coffee at ten o’clock, with her body still warm from loving. Nothing had been the same
since Jonas Sharpe had arrived on her doorstep.
“It’s useless to give yourself a hard time for taking a morning off,” Jonas said from behind her.
Liz popped bread into the toaster. “I suppose not, since I don’t even know today’s schedule.”
“Liz.” Jonas took her by the arms and firmly turned her around. He studied her, gauging her mood before he spoke. “You know, back in Philadelphia I’m considered a workaholic. I’ve had friends express concern over the workload I take on and the hours I put in. Compared to you, I’m retired.”
Her brows drew together as they did when she was concentrating. Or annoyed. “We each do what we have to do.”
“True enough. It appears what I have to do is harass you until you relax.”
She had to smile. He said it so reasonably and his eyes were laughing. “I’m sure you have a reputation for being an expert on harassment.”
“I majored in it at college.”
“Good for you. But I’m an expert at budgeting my own time. And there’s my toast.” He let her pluck it out, waited until she’d buttered it, then took a piece for himself.
“You mentioned diving lessons.”
She was still frowning at him when she heard the coffee begin to simmer. She reached for one cup, then relented and took two. “What about them?”
“I’ll take one. Today.”
“Today?” She handed him his coffee, drinking her own standing by the stove. “I’ll have to see what’s scheduled. The way things have been going, both dive boats should already be out.”
“Not a group lesson, a private one. You can take me out on the Expatriate.”