Gift of Fire

inside her softness. She took her time, allowing her body to adjust to the penetration at its own speed.
    Jonas sucked in his breath and willed himself to endure the sweet torture. He could feel the familiar, initial resistance, felt the soft, clinging folds clutch at him, and then he was all the way into the tight sheath. He released the breath he had been holding deep in his lungs. Verity’s fingers clamped onto his shoulders and her head tipped back as she began to move astride him.
    Jonas was half-dazed. She looked so beautiful in her passion, he thought. Sweet and sexy and trembling with her desire for him.
    She wanted him. Jonas had never been wanted or needed in his life the way Verity wanted and needed him.”
    “
Verity
.
”
Jonas’s voice was thick with need. He knew he would never last. She had him in her power and he was violently aroused, totally at her mercy. He didn’t stand a chance. When her mouth came down on his, he thrust his tongue hungrily between her lips, searching out the hot darkness inside her mouth. He felt her tighten in that special way she did just before her climax. He heard the soft whimper in her throat, and his passionately tormented body gave up the battle for control.
    Jonas didn’t try to stifle the hoarse shout of satisfaction that accompanied his release. He gloried in the explosion that tore through him, pumping himself heavily into Verity’s softness until he felt totally drained.
    Verity collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder as she recovered her breath. There was a sheen of perspiration in the valley between her breasts. Jonas relaxed deeply, enjoying the scent of her hair and the way the curls tickled his nostrils.
    “So you love me, hmmm?” he drawled when he regained command of his voice.
    “More than anything else in the world, Jonas.” She didn’t move.
    “Not going to let any psychic groupie with hot pants get her hands on me?”
    “You’d better not let yourself get into a compromising situation like that ever again,” Verity warned fervently. But her eyes were gleaming with languid satisfaction as she raised her head to look down at him. “No telling how I might retaliate next time. Do you hear me, Jonas?”
    “I hear you,” he whispered. Then he tightened one hand into a fist and yanked hard on the manacle. The weak aluminum catch came apart with a snapping sound and his wrist was free. He repeated the action with the other hand.
    Verity stared at his freed hands. She was outraged. “You were faking it. I thought I had you really chained. You could have gotten free anytime.”
    Jonas laughed softly and pulled her close. “I haven’t been free since the day I met you, little tyrant. And I wouldn’t have missed this torture session for the world.”
    He kissed her deeply and thoroughly as he listened to the cheap aluminum manacles clatter against the stone wall.
    They just didn’t make dungeon implements the way they used to.

 
    Chapter Thirteen
     
    Lunch was a somewhat strained affair. Maggie Frampton served the meatless lasagna and minestrone Verity had helped her prepare, but she didn’t even bother to make barbed remarks about the lack of animal protein. She seemed distracted, Verity thought.
    Elyssa was not very talkative either. Privately, Verity did not consider that a great social loss. Verity did notice, however, that Elyssa took special pains to ignore Yarwood. Jonas, and herself. When she spoke, it was to discuss crystals with Oliver Crump or to snap at Maggie for being slow. A lot of the sweetness and light had gone out of Little Miss Sunshine, Slade Spencer was his customary morose, nervous self.
    Doug Warwick and Jonas, apparently oblivious to the awkward atmosphere, talked intently at the far end of the table, discussing Jonas’s observations and the overall outline of the report.
    “We can, hardly claim that the villa is a shining example of Renaissance purity of line,” Jonas said. “So we’ll have to emphasize the historical significance of the place. Don’t worry, it’s all going to sound impressive enough, especially when you consider the fact that you haven’t got much in the way of competition. If this were Italy, you’d have a tough time convincing anyone that this was an historical treasure, but genuine Renaissance villas are scarce in North America. I think I can turn out something that will wow your potential buyers.”
    “Good,” Warwick said, sounding relieved. “I want to get this deal