Part 9 (1/2)
”Bits,” he agreed, his expression growing serious. ”But not enough to satisfy me.” Then he smiled and said, ”I think only you can do that, Kelsey.”
Feeling suddenly shy, she avoided his piercing gaze, and glanced around them at all the jeweled pillows. Kelsey had the feeling that she'd landed in some prince's harem. ”This place is amazing,” she whispered, pointing around them.
”Ah, my people,” he said, dropping his head. ”They spoil me too much.”
”How?” she asked, as he pressed his lips close against her throat, kissing her there.
”They know how I love a warm fire at bedtime,” he said.
”That's hardly spoiling.” She panted as his strong arms wrapped about her waist, urging her backward onto the pillows.
”Well, all these pillows are new,” he said softly in her ear. ”But one or two of my people know just how I feel about you.”
They rolled onto their sides then, still touching and exploring every inch of each other. Reaching a tentative hand to stroke his cheek, Kelsey outlined the small scars there. For the first time, in the firelight, she noticed lines around his eyes. This surprised her-almost as much as the nearly imperceptible shots of silver-gray that the firelight caused to gleam in his hair.
”How old are you?” she asked, and he glanced upward, surprised. She ran her fingers over his bristling hair. ”There's silver in your hair.”
With a deeply self-conscious gesture, he lifted his hand as if he meant to s.h.i.+ft his appearance, but she stopped him. ”No, don't change it,” she said. ”It's lovely.”
”I didn't want to be dishonest,” he admitted with a hesitant smile. ”So I kept the gray. I wanted you to know about our age difference.”
She wondered if perhaps he was a great deal older-if his species aged on a different timetable altogether. ”Just how old are you then?” she asked, bracing herself for some shocking revelation.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. ”Old enough to know that I can't afford to feel the things you bring out in me. No warrior can.”
”You're still a man.” She watched the emotions that played across his serious face.
He cut his eyes sideways, meeting her gaze. ”I am thirty.”
”Geez, Jared!” She began to laugh, relieved. ”I thought you were going to tell me you're, like, four hundred years old or something. That's only two years older than I am.”
”But they have been hard years,” he explained, rolling back onto his side to face her. ”Destructive, aging years, Kelsey. Very aging years.”
She sensed that there was more-something important he withheld from her about his age, or their differences- but she also understood not to push him. ”How is it I know so little about you?” she asked. ”And you know so much about me?”
”Does that matter?”
”I-I'm not sure.” He nuzzled at her neck, nipping her there with his teeth. A strong voice inside urged her to trust him-to have faith, even though he seemed so unknowable.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her close to his side. ”You do know me, Kelsey,” he answered, almost as if he'd heard her thoughts. ”Already better than most in this camp.”
”I want to be closer.”
Graceful as a wildcat, he accepted her invitation, rolling her on top of him. Her strong thighs closed around his, and she felt his coiled power beneath her hips. And that wasn't the only thing she felt. Oh, boy, not by a long shot.
A slow, devilish-and decidedly human-expression formed on his features. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with himself. And with his size.
”Is that honest too?” she teased, rocking against him.
”I do not understand this humor.”
”Like the silver in your hair,” she explained. ”Is this”- she paused, lifting up so she could caress the hard ridge that jutted from within his jeans-”all you?”
His lips parted, his eyes drifted shut, but he said nothing at first. Then, after a quick reply in his native language, he groaned, ”AH Refarian, all me.”
She outlined the bulge, rubbing it harder, and noticed that his body seemed to tense in reaction. ”Poor human men,” she said. ”But lucky, lucky me.” She laughed, growing more intense in her stroking, and this caused him to cry something in Refarian, and while she couldn't understand the words, they aroused her wildly nonetheless.
”What does that mean?” She sighed, arching her back.
”I said, it's important that my anatomy meet”-he paused, eyes sparkling as he unsnapped the fly of her jeans-”all human requirements.”
She giggled, daring to slip one palm beneath his s.h.i.+rt, feeling the flushed heat of the flat, muscled abdomen she'd glimpsed earlier. ”You'd know that answer better than I.”
Lifting his hips in invitation, he purred, ”Quite compatible, I am certain.” His dark eyes narrowed to catlike slits as he tugged on the zipper of her pants.
She reached a hand to cup his cheek, feeling the bristling of his beard stubble, the warmth of his skin. He blinked beneath her examining touch, but did not squirm or flinch. That was when she realized what he had done: he'd allowed himself to be in the p.r.o.ne position, allowed her to be the one in control. Their physical positioning couldn't be an accidental choice, not with a warrior like Jared. No, he wanted her trust. And he wanted it badly-badly enough to risk a.s.suming the vulnerable role in their first genuinely physical encounter.
Their eyes locking, she began to s.h.i.+ver uncontrollably. Between the way his body had begun to tease her into a fevered state, and her uncertainty about what he was truly inviting her to do, she couldn't seem to stop the trembling. Then, quiet as a Sunday-morning snowfall, she heard him in her center. Heard his words. Feel me! Touch!
And if she hadn't been sure of the invitation, he gave a slight, affirming nod, urging her to continue. Sliding both palms farther beneath his turtleneck, she found the rough casing of body armor and gave a little cry of frustration. He made several quick motions with his wrist and it fell open, exposing his chest, his stomach, his body. He shrugged out of his turtleneck, then discarded the body armor, revealing a golden-brown chest dusted with only a few silken hairs, and those low on his abdomen, threading their way downward into his jeans, suggesting a predefined path of exploration like a well-lit runway at night.
But she chose the opposite direction, caressing his warm chest with both hands, feeling his nipples bead with arousal at her touch. The longer she touched him, the more his chest heaved with uneven breaths. He licked his lips, swallowing visibly, his moody eyes drifting shut. For some reason, she recalled her first image of him from a week before: the blazing wall of power, erotic, bright, burning. Nothing like the much more physical man she straddled and stroked at the moment.
”This isn't even your body,” she whispered, staring down at him. It was such an eerie feeling, this overpowering attraction-but to what? To whom, really? His dark eyes fluttered open again, fixing on her. Studying his handsome face, she continued, ”Or, it is your body, but it's not your only body. Is that it, Jared?”
His black eyebrows narrowed. ”It's one of my bodies,” he answered in a soft voice, his chest rising and falling visibly. Beneath her hand, she could feel his heart's staccato, frantic rhythm.
She kept her open palm positioned right there, over his heart like a pledge. ”Who is the golden one?” she whispered. ”The one you showed me... that night?”
He slid his own hand over hers. ”Me as well.”
”Are there others?” She had to know, had to understand this man who had touched her very soul.
He hesitated, watching her with a wary, guarded expression. But then something in his face changed, softening. ”Many others, Kelsey.”
”Then how can I possibly know you?” she cried, feeling tears burn at her eyes.
Clasping her strongly by the waist, he steadied her, saying, ”This is me, Kelsey. Me.” His dark eyes searched her face, begging for her trust. ”You see me. You feel me. Why does the form matter?”
”Because it does,” she said, touching his face, outlining his strong cheekbone, then trailing her fingertips along the straight line of his nose. He had a beautiful, ruggedly formed face, and it literally caused her breath to catch as she touched it in appreciation. ”It matters completely to me.”
Words that he'd heard before, spoken by another woman in another time on another planet: the memories swam to the surface, causing a sharp stab of pain behind Jared's eyes. He blinked, trying to focus on the woman he held now, a woman whose eyes were open, accepting, who did not judge a man for choices he'd been forced to make. But she does not even know of those choices. He pressed his eyes shut, fighting the flood of images, of Lahrae's long black hair spilling down to her hips. Images of a young warrior who longed to love her, but feared his feelings more than the war he found himself fighting. If only he'd understood the reasons behind his fear of loving Lahrae: that Kelsey had been ripped away from him so traumatically.
”What's wrong?” Kelsey asked, caressing his cheek. ”Jared, I don't want to hurt you.”
I don't want to hurt you, love. I do not. Lahrae's voice, Lahrae's words in their shared Refarian language. The refrain of a woman who yearned to love a man who refused to be loved. Until it was too late. A man who had already loved once, but been made to forget-no wonder he had been unable to love Lahrae.
”I just want to see you,” Kelsey whispered in a hoa.r.s.e voice. He allowed his eyes to flutter open, and found her blue-eyed gaze fixed on him. ”That's all, Jared. To see you.”
His answer came out gruffer than he intended. ”You have seen my core selves.”