Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter. “Why?”
“Because then your guard is down.”
“And when my guard goes down…”
He drew a deep breath. “I can tell you want me as badly as I want you.”
Caution quickly masked the longing so apparent a moment earlier. “Why would that excite you? You turned me down last time, remember?”
Closing the gap between them, he lifted her fully onto Heather’s desk, shoved up her skirt and stepped between her spread knees without making physical contact. “You weren’t offering me a deal I could accept.”
Her fingers lightly traced the swelling in his jeans. “And you think something’s different now?”
Removing her hand, he brought their lower bodies together. “I hope so.”
Her eyes slid closed as he clasped her bottom and pressed into her. “I already offered you sex,” she said. “What more do you want?”
Bending his head, he kissed her neck, her jawbone, her cheek. He craved what he’d been craving since they broke up. The word for it sat on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t dare speak it because he knew he had no right to ask.
“Jonah?” Her legs went around his hips, holding him in place.
The idea of having her right here, right now, became a possibility. That meant he had to say it. He couldn’t go any further without making his needs plain. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Maybe he didn’t deserve a second chance, but as much as he wanted her body, he wanted her heart more, and he couldn’t settle for less.
Cradling her face between his hands, he summoned his courage. “Forgiveness,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Francesca. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.”
She released him. He’d made a mistake, asked for too much, just as he’d known he would before the words even left his mouth.
“It’s okay. I understand why you can’t forgive me,” he said before she could respond. His voice sounded harsh to his own ears, but he couldn’t control the raw emotion pouring through it. He felt as if he’d dropped his weapon and begged for mercy, and she’d thrust a knife in his chest. It was a wound she had every right to inflict, but that didn’t ease the pain.
Eager to hide what he could of his reaction, so she wouldn’t have to take any of the blame for what was essentially his fault, he tried to go back to the fax machine, but she caught hold of his arm.
“Hey, look at me.”
Prepared for the worst, for some explanation telling him she’d never be able to believe in him again, he set his jaw. But when their eyes met, she smiled. “I forgive you.”
Jonah almost couldn’t believe his ears. He’d carried the burden of his mistake for ten long years, had regretted his actions every minute of every day. Even now he hated what the past said about his character. But if she could forgive him, maybe someday he could forgive himself….
“Do you mean it?” he asked.
“I mean it,” she said. “I promise.”
Tears welled up in Jonah’s eyes, tears he seemed powerless to stop. He hoped she wouldn’t notice. Revealing his sensitive side terrified him. But she didn’t exploit his vulnerability. Tears streamed down her own cheeks as she kissed him—again and again and again.
And then their clothes came off.
The fax machine hummed. The profile they’d been waiting for was finally coming in, but Francesca wasn’t sure she cared. And Jonah didn’t seem to be aware of it. He’d taken a minute to run out to his car, said he had some condoms in his bag, but since his return he was too eager for her to pay attention to anything else.
“That’s it. Let’s get rid of these,” he breathed when she began to wiggle out of her panties.
The lights were on, which meant she was completely exposed to him, but Francesca didn’t mind. She liked watching the intensity on his face, felt exultant when he closed his eyes and gasped as she took him in her hand. This was it. She was making love with Jonah again, just like she’d always dreamed. There were times, lots of them, when she’d thought the prospect—if it ever came to pass—might frighten her. He was the only man who could really hurt her. And he had. But his hands on her body didn’t scare her now. He was bringing her home. They were both coming home.
“Your body’s changed,” he murmured. “It’s even more beautiful.”
She smiled up at him. His had changed, too. He felt thicker, stronger. He was just sliding his leg between hers when she caught sight of a tattoo on his thigh. He hadn’t had any ink when they were together before. And, as far as she could tell, he didn’t have any now, other than this.
Holding him back long enough to get a better look, she raised curious eyes to his. “That’s the Chinese symbol for ‘forever in my heart,’ the one I was planning to have tattooed on my hip,” she said. “But then we broke up and…” And she’d never returned to the parlor they’d visited the day she’d selected it. “You went back?”
He rested his forehead against hers. “It was all I had left of you,” he whispered. Then he kissed her tenderly and what had started out as a frenetic, driving need ended with a powerful reverence she’d never experienced before, even with him.
“You love me,” she said in awe as he threaded his fingers through hers and pinned them above her head.
They were on the floor, spent, exhausted, but happy, as they listened to the storm rage. Slowly rolling to one side, he propped his head up with his fist and lifted a sweaty tendril of hair from her cheek. “I always have.”
Jonah got the fax while Francesca finished dressing.
“That looks like a lot of pages,” she said, coming up behind him. “What’s she sending? An entire encyclopedia on criminal behavior?”
Heedless of the papers he was crushing, Jonah pulled her close. “Winona likes to back up her opinions with case histories and various theories on human behavior developed by psychologists, criminologists—even other forensics specialists, if they’re reliable. Since profiling includes a lot of guesswork and stereotyping, she provides as much research as possible to bolster her conclusions.”
Just looking at Jonah made Francesca smile. “She seems very thorough.”
“Oh, yes.”
The desire to head home and get into bed, with Jonah curled securely around her, made it difficult to concentrate. But they had a job to do, a responsibility to the people they were trying to help, so she tried to shake off her fatigue. “What does she have to say?”