Midnight Jewels

timeless instant she was bound to Croft and he was chained to her. She could feel the invisible forces linking them and hope washed through her even as the last of the sensual pleasure faded from her veins.
    It may not have been the safest way to let Croft make love to her, but at least she knew for certain she was getting some genuine emotion from him. She didn't want to think about the emotion he was getting from her. She was certain there was far too much of it. It was dangerous to let him know she was this vulnerable to him, but there was no way to avoid it. All she could do was endeavor to take him with her whenever she lost control in his arms.

    Croft opened his eyes slowly, still half intoxicated by the warm, spicy scent of Mercy's perspiration damp body. One of her legs was still curled around his. Her fingers were trailing across his shoulder and around the back of his neck as if she were conducting an idle survey of him.
    He stretched slowly, flexing his back muscles as he carefully eased himself out of Mercy's clinging warmth. He looked down at her and saw her watching him through a veil of lashes. He realized he felt totally replete and completely drained. It was an effort just to move off of her and lay down beside her, but he managed it. A moment later his legs dangled over the edge alongside hers. He put a hand on her thigh, squeezing gently.
    He felt good. Better than good. He felt magnificent. All-conquering, all-powerful and filled with a gracious, generous tenderness toward the vanquished.
    The only problem was that once again he wasn't quite sure which of them was the vanquished. How did she do it to him? he wondered. How did she pull him so thoroughly into the sensual storm? He had intended to ride that thunder and control it, but it never seemed to work out that way. Instead she pushed him and goaded him and beat on him until he lost the self-control he had taken for granted for years. The next thing he knew he was sucked into the heart of the whirlwind, his emotions raging as wildly as Mercy's.
    Croft grinned suddenly in the darkness. At least they went over the edge together. She was such a stubborn little thing, so bound and determined not to be the only victim of the seduction. Well, he could afford to overlook her initial stubbornness. She had learned her lesson and he had gotten more than he'd bargained for when he had decided that it was time to remind Mercy where her loyalties lay.
    "You're a reckless woman, Mercy Pennington. One of these days you're going to get into real trouble."
    "With whom?"
    He laughed softly, hearing the teasing tartness in her whispering voice. "With me, of course. You think I'm going to let you mess around and get into trouble with anyone else? Try asking permission just once to go out and play with some other man and see what happens."
    "If I have to ask permission to get into trouble with anyone else, I am in real trouble," she observed thoughtfully.
    "Your logic is impeccable, sweetheart. You've got it in one." Croft decided not to dwell on the primitive, satisfying sense of possession in which he was wallowing. He knew enough to realize there were some reactions it was better not to question or analyze. It was like trusting instincts. Some things a person just accepted and accommodated.
    He raised himself on one elbow and decided that it would be more comfortable for both of them if he adjusted his and Mercy's positions on the bed.
    "Up you go," he murmured, sitting up beside her, changing position and tugging her back down onto the pillows. "That's better."
    "Croft?"
    He glanced at his watch, frowning at the time. "It's late, sweetheart. Better get some sleep." The household should be settled down by now, he decided. Unless Gladstone really did have a listening device planted in Mercy's room. The image of the elegant Gladstone, attired in a silk smoking jacket, hunched over the receiver as he got hard and frustrated listening to Mercy climax in Croft's arms was amusing. Croft decided not to mention it to Mercy, however. She probably wouldn't find it humorous at all.
    "Croft, I think we should talk."
    He leaned over and kissed her mouth, effectively closing it. "Not here. Not now. Go to sleep, honey."
    "But, Croft—"
    He put his mouth to her ear. "Bugs."
    "Oh." Her eyes widened faintly. It was obvious she had temporarily forgotten the possibility of hidden microphones.
    "Sleep." He made it an order and smiled to himself when she gave a resigned sigh and