Shadowdance (31 page)

A smile played about her lips. “My key.”

The chain was too short for him to see the key now, but he could almost feel it dangling just above his skin. “I wanted to keep it safe for you.”

Her legs twined farther around his as she gazed up at him. “That you did.” The color deepened upon her cheeks, and she licked her kiss-plumped lips. He watched, his cock twitching, his pulse picking back up. Her voice grew almost shy, save for the huskiness underneath it all. “Will you put it back on me?”

Jack swallowed. Hard. Beyond the roaring of his ears and the tightness of his skin, he felt the chain around his neck loosen and slither free, and then she was holding her key. An offering.

Everything grew silent, save the sound of their breathing
and the thundering of his heart. His focus narrowed to the rise and fall of her chest and the row of toggles fronting her regulator’s tunic. It was a simple linen one, the sort they wore when practicing combat. The natural shape of her beneath the cloth made it clear she was not constrained by a corset. Anticipation made his words thick. “Were you expecting a fight?”

A small smile tilted her lips. “Perhaps.” Her gaze grew dark. “Or perhaps I did not favor too many impediments during our
discussion
.”

His breath caught. “Practical girl.” It was said lightly, but the knowledge she’d given made him shake, every bit of him, save his fingers. They were steady and determined as he pulled each toggle tight, then released it with a tiny click. With each button set free, his blood grew hotter. Her eyes followed his progress, and her sweet lips parted, drawing in short gasps of air.

The tips of her fingers, so lightly holding his biceps as he worked, seared his skin. At last her tunic was spread open, revealing the tissue-thin ivory chemise beneath. Gently he touched the smooth skin just below her collarbones, and her breath hitched, that fine skin prickling with gooseflesh. His breathing grew labored, his mouth dry, as he worked the little pearl buttons free, and when he finished with the last one, he opened his prize.

He’d seen her before. But not like this. Not when she was arching her back ever so slightly, lifting her luscious breasts up like an offering. Not when he could touch her.

So he did. Light and careful, as he ran a finger along the edge of the golden teeth guarding her heart. “Does it hurt?” he whispered. He needed to know that first.

“No.” A tiny tremor lit over her skin. “It feels… wonderful.”

He stroked the other edge, gently, smiling as he did it. He hadn’t expected to smile with her. Not this way. Happiness bloomed warm and tender beneath his ribs. His fingers drifted down, tracing under one breast. They were small breasts, firm yet delicate like the rest of her. The honeyed caps of her nipples pointed upward, just begging a man to suck.

Well then. Jack swooped down and drew a silken tip in deep. Mary cried out, her lithe body bowing into him. He smiled around her sweet nipple, then caught the hard hoop of her piercing with the tip of his tongue and worried it.

“Jack!” She grabbed his shoulders. Her nails biting into his flesh were a sharp pleasure.

Slowly he pulled back, holding on to his prize as he went, until the tip was freed, glistening in the light, and the little crystal hoop stood at attention. “I had to prepare it.” Unable to help himself, he gave the stiff nipple a flick with the end of his tongue before looking up at her flushed face. “Give me your key.”

Lightly panting and hand shaking, she handed him the key. His fingers were too large and clumsy for the task, fumbling with the effort to remain calm as he unhooked the hoop and slid the tiny key into place. By the time he finished, they were both trembling, a sheen of sweat covering their skins.

Resting a hand upon her stomach, Jack smiled down at his handiwork. “That has got to be the most erotic sight I’ve ever beheld.” Idly he touched the small key, moving it back and forth and loving the way she instantly writhed against his finger, as if seeking more.

“Sensitive, are you?” God, but she made him burn. Before she could answer, he leaned in and kissed her
nipple. And again, because once was not enough. And she whimpered beneath him, her arms closing ranks around his neck, holding him there. Jack closed his eyes, shuddering as he gave in to the heady sensation of simply letting go with her. Heat washed over him as he suckled her. His teeth clicked against the key, and he bit down and gave it a tug.

“Sweet God, that feels so…” Mary groaned, her fingers grasping the short ends of his hair. He tugged it again, twisting a bit. And she jerked, a moan tearing from her. “Don’t stop, Jack.”

Palming her other breast, he gave her what they both wanted, tormenting her with his mouth as his fingers plucked at her other nipple. Lust drew him in circles, making him dizzy.

“I
can’t
stop touching you.” He kissed his way back up her body, finding that tender spot on her neck as his hands roamed over satin-smooth skin. “I don’t want to.”

She roamed too, finding sensitive patches and secret hollows of pleasure along his body. Kissing a line across his cheeks, along his jaw. Her hips lifted, pressing against his. An invitation. Jack pulled back, his chest working against hers.

“Let me see all of you, Mary. I want to. So badly.” Instinct shouted that he take, plunder. But enough had been taken from both of them. Her tremulous smile and small nod were his reward. He undid the ties of her skirts, fighting impatience, and then slid them down her slim hips. His mouth went dry. She was everything he’d ever wanted, and things he’d never even known he needed.

Gently curved, slender limbs rose up to meet a dark-gold triangle of curls and a small glimpse of sly pink. Her buttery skin prickled, a light shiver working over
her. Uncertainty creased the corners of her wide eyes and tightened her mouth. Jack couldn’t bear that.

The first touch of his hand upon the soft skin of her thigh nearly undid him. Slowly he caressed her, and his skin tingled as if he were the one being caressed. “Ah, Merrily,” he whispered. “I’ve no words. Not the proper ones to do your loveliness justice.”

“Nor I for you, Jack Talent.” Her hand eased over his arm, a light, heady touch that drove him insane. Her lips curled. “I suppose we shall have to muddle through.”

But she deserved words. She deserved to know that she was cherished. His hand glided to the subtle swell of her hip. “Show yourself to me, love.” His voice was as rough as splintered wood.

Her pale thighs trembled as she spread them. Her sex, glistening coral pink, was plump with desire. For him. Mary Chase wanted him. She was waiting for him, her gaze not shy but hot and impatient.

He prolonged the moment, taking his time to reach out for her. And when he ran a finger down her slick center, she bucked, a little helpless gurgle filling her throat. But she opened her legs wider, canting her hips. For him.

He found himself panting, his body quaking with lust. “God, just to be able to touch you.” Slowly he circled her sex, watching her writhe. “Do you know what that does to me?” He pushed a finger into her tight quim, and her lips parted on a wordless cry. Jack eased out and plunged in again, his throat closing, making his words raw. “Have you any idea?”

Mary licked her lips, her sweet breasts heaving as she struggled. “I’ve a good guess.”

She snuggled close, pressing her side against his, so much smaller than him, and yet the difference somehow made
him
feel fragile. Her fingers trailed over his chest,
pausing at his nipple to circle it. He groaned but she drifted further down, to his aching cock, that somehow was still half hidden beneath the rumpled sheet, all but his head. That was peeking out, begging, really, for attention. Her lids lowered in somnolent perusal as her voice darkened. “Let me touch you, and we shall compare.”

The linen slithered over him, caressing before the cool air hit. It only inflamed his ardor.

“Glorious.” Her warm hand ran over his flesh, and he sighed.

Tentative and exploratory at first, her touch soon grew more assured. And then it turned almost reverent, as though she loved the feel of him as much as he loved the feel of her touch. Resting his forehead against hers, he simply breathed her in and caressed her sex, keeping time with her strokes. Their breath mingled and steamed.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you here?” he said against her open lips. “How many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

Her lashes fluttered down, her mouth soft and exploring, making his head spin. “I wanted it to be me. When you were pleasuring yourself. I wanted to be the one touching you.”

“I wanted it to be you too,” he rasped. “So much so it hurt.” God, had it hurt.

One slim hand held on to his shoulder, the other hand stroking, pulling. He was silent, his eyes closed, just feeling. Feeling her hand love his flesh, explore it with bolder touches. Stroking.

Hands stroking. Always so gentle at first. Coercing, teasing
. Cold sliced through him, twisting his guts. No, not now. Not
here
. And still he shuddered sickly, his mouth watering with nausea. His hands left her, found the sheet, and gripped tight.
No. Not with her
.

She knew, had to have felt his panic, for she stopped, her hand sliding to his hip. Hell, he hated the relief that coursed through him when she let go.

“Jack?”

He took a shaking breath and faced her. Concern was there, and understanding. He could not stand seeing himself reflected in her gold gaze.

The steady warmth of her palm at his hip seeped into his bones as she spoke. “I don’t have to touch you.”

“I want you to touch me.” His voice broke, weak and pathetic thing that he was. He sucked in another breath. “I need you to touch me. It’s… I closed my eyes and—” Hell. He didn’t want to say it.

But she knew. Of course she knew. She saw far too much of him. “Look at me, Jack.”

He could never refuse her.

She was beautiful. She’d always been lovely, but affection and tenderness transformed her into the most beautiful woman he’d ever see. Their gazes locked as her hand wrapped once more around him, giving him a little squeeze. Blood rushed back to his cock. It swelled and filled her hand as if it belonged there.

She stroked him, a long, assured glide. He grunted, his balls drawing up tight and his body going hot. Her eyes watched him. “Feels good?”

“Yes. God, yes.” His breath fractured.

Another stroke, down, then up, her thumb gliding over his swollen head. He grunted, arching into the touch.

She kept at it, steady, deliberate. “Look at what I’m doing to you, Jack.”

The sight of her slim, elegant hand wrapped around him, her skin so pale against his ruddy flesh, had him shivering, swelling harder.

“This is us, Jack,” she said as she worked him. “You and I, this is what we create.”

A choked, broken sound left him, and he burrowed his head in the crook of her neck. “Mary. Mary.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. His body felt like cold stone, save where she touched him. Dully, his heart thudded against his ribs. “For however long you’ll have me, Mary. Whatever it takes.”

He wasn’t coherent, he knew. Yet she understood. Her breathy, tender reply felled him. “I suppose I’ll be keeping you then, Jack Talent.”

Her slim arm wrapped about his waist, and the soft mounds of her breasts pressed into his side. Lightly she traced a finger down the groove that divided his abdomen, the touch making him shiver.

“Why?” he croaked. When she first arrived, he’d expected her to rail at him about the apples, perhaps chastise him for violating her privacy, then go on her way, leaving him alone.

“Because, Jack Talent, I can no more live without you than you can without me.”

A shuddering breath left him, and he pulled her closer, tucking her half under him. “I don’t understand.”

“You always think too much, Jack.” Her voice was low, her fingers still exploring, gently soothing him. “Did you honestly believe that I wouldn’t find you worthy?”

Jack drew back to look down at her. He tried to speak and failed. Because she knew him, knew how broken he was. Shame over his cowardliness hit him. All this time he’d been afraid to confess to her, but in truth, it wasn’t simply the confession, it was the belief that she wouldn’t have him regardless.

“It’s all right,” she said again, then placed a small,
light kiss on his chest. “Broken or whole, I will always want you.”

A choked breath burst from him, and he fell over her, his face burrowing against her soft breasts as he clutched her hips. “I love you.” He wound his arms about her, crushing her surely. He couldn’t let go. “I love you. Always. Constantly. Completely. With everything—” And then he could speak no more.

Mary wrapped her arms about Jack’s broad shoulders and held him as he held her. She could not help but marvel at how good he felt in her arms, his solid strength against her, surrounding her with his warmth.

“I hate the way I treated you.” His voice was muffled and raw against her skin. “I’ll regret it until my dying day.”

She knew he could not quite understand why she’d forgiven him. Just as she knew most people would wonder the same. They did not know what she did. Her hand smoothed over his close-cropped hair, so silky yet rough on the upstroke. On the outside Jack Talent was tarnished and battered, but underneath he was sterling. Not even Jack truly understood this. But she would help him see it.

“Hush now,” she whispered. “Be at ease.” Because she knew that he needed the words too. He needed to know he was protected.

For her whole life, she’d thought of men in terms of force. Blunt instruments that asserted their will and strength. Jack was that, more so than most. But she had never truly realized a man’s vulnerability, that a man might need comfort and tenderness. In truth, a man was like crystal, all hard, cool surfaces and solid strength, yet so easily broken if mishandled.

They were twined together, Jack’s thigh between her
legs, her arms wrapped about his shoulder and around his waist, his arms doing the same. Though it did not feel sexual, not at that moment. It felt peaceful. And she could not help but think of them as two strings, wound up tight to become rope, and stronger for it.