The Ransom (38 page)

“Now I know what it feels like.”

She stared at him and slowly recalled the words he’d spoken two days earlier. Comprehension dawned. Her eyes widened in surprise. “You mean…like how it feels when you…care?”

He nodded. “Just so you know, there’s no comparison.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Thursday, February 1, 6:58 a.m.

Lane pressed a kiss against the softness of Zara’s hair and pulled her in close beside him. She sighed softly and snuggled into his chest, still caught up in the sleep they’d both fallen into after their bout of lovemaking. Stretched out on his bed with her, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. All the years he’d vowed to remain single, to never risk inflicting upon another woman the kind of life his mother had suffered, he never knew what he’d been missing out on; he never knew what it felt like to be loved.

Two days earlier, Zara had told him she’d fallen in love with him. He only hoped it was still true. She’d asked him if he was willing to take the risk, if he cared enough about her to try. Now he knew the answer and his heart swelled with emotion at the thought of telling her.

Now, he
could
imagine a wife and family, if she was the one by his side. It was only because of her that he’d been able to conquer his fear about dying too soon and abandoning his family to their fate. Not that his fears had vanished, and they probably never would, but at least now, he was willing to try; to take a risk on life.

His chest tightened at the thought of a bunch of little girls and boys with their mother’s dark hair and midnight black eyes. His heart swelled at what could be and he yearned to ask the woman who lay asleep beside him if she would do him the honor of becoming his wife.

Zara.

She’d come into his life and turned his world upside down. But it felt so
right.
She
was so right. He couldn’t wait to tell her.

* * *

Zara came awake slowly. The morning sunlight was brighter than it had been and there was no longer a need for the lamp. The air was cool around her, caressing her naked skin. Lane must have switched on the air-conditioning sometime after they’d made love.

Lane.

The feel of his steady heartbeat beneath her ear brought a smile of contentment to her lips. He’d been right. They
had
fit and gosh, it had been more than wonderful. She now knew why the romance books she’d consumed as a teenager had been filled with countless pages about the wonder and beauty of being loved. With Lane, it had been magical, beyond anything she had read or could have imagined. And the best part was he was still there, lying beside her, holding her close, protecting her.

He was her knight in shining armor, the slayer of evil, the righter of wrongs. He was Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black and she’d fallen head-over-heels in love with him.

How could she have such strong feelings for a man she’d only just met?
And under such awful circumstances? He’d been in her life less than a week—nowhere near enough time to be contemplating love. She was twenty-five years old. She wasn’t a giddy teenager who fell in and out of love as often as she changed her underwear.

Zara smiled and shook her head. She’d never been a giddy teenager. From the time she could remember, she’d worked and studied and worked harder, striving to reach her goal. From an early age, she’d dreamed of being a successful lawyer, of striding through the impressive doors of her father’s law firm and taking her position by his side.

Even when Allison had come onto the scene and, a little later, Brittany, Zara’s dream had never faltered. Her focus remained absolute. Her father might have sold his share of the law firm and gone into politics, but nothing could disrupt her single-minded determination to achieve the outcome she’d worked toward her entire life.

And it had happened. She had a promising career as a lawyer in one of Sydney’s most prestigious law firms. It hadn’t mattered that her father was no longer practising. Well, perhaps a little, but she refused to let his move into politics deter her from her goal. By the time she’d finished university, the offers of employment came rolling in. She had her pick of jobs. The fact that her career had taken precedence over her private life hadn’t seemed to matter. Until Lane.

Zara sighed softly and ran her hand lightly over the smooth, tanned skin of his chest. Her fingers encountered a slightly raised ridge of flesh that ran more than three inches across his bicep. She turned to look at the scar, a faint pink color in the light, and wondered at its cause.

Her fingers continued their exploration and tangled in the light smattering of dark hair that shadowed his chest, before skimming across the flat planes of his stomach. The muscles tensed beneath her touch.

Seconds later, Lane’s hand tightened over hers and stilled its movement. “Careful,” he growled against her ear. “If you keep that up, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Zara giggled, the joy of it bubbling up inside her and spilling out of her mouth. Lifting her face up to his, she pressed her lips against his mouth, loving the feel of his stubble as it scraped across her cheek.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, as her hand continued to make its way across his stomach. “Trust me, I’m a lawyer. I’m prepared to accept all liability.”

Lane grinned down at her. “As if I’d fall for that one. A lawyer willing to assume all liability is one I definitely wouldn’t trust. In fact—”

“Hey!” She pinched him on the arm. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

“You’re right.” He winked at her. “I know of much better things to do with my mouth than talk.”

A blush stole across her cheeks and she ducked her head to avoid his amused expression.

“You look so cute when you blush,” he whispered and tilted her face toward him.

Her heart thumped at the desire that burned in his gaze. Seconds later, his lips came down on hers, tasting, teasing, coaxing. She groaned from the onslaught of emotions that surged through her as she opened her mouth to his tongue.

His hand stole down to cup her breast and test its shape in his palm. His tongue stroked deep into her mouth and his thumb imitated the action against her nipple. Fire burned low in her belly. Need weighed heavily inside her. She moved against him, tugging at the sheets that were tangled around them. She needed to feel him, hot and hard and naked against her.

Lane broke off the kiss and gasped for breath. As if reading her mind, he rolled slightly and tore the sheet away from them. Taking her in his arms once again, he drew her flush against him.

Zara’s sigh of relief mingled with his. The press of their bodies fueled the fire that raged between them.

“Please, Lane. I need you. I need you inside me.” Zara blushed at her forwardness, but was beyond controlling the primeval urges inside her. Now that she knew how good it could be, her body was as desperate for his love as an addict for another hit.

He rolled her onto her back and quickly reached for a condom. Seconds later, his cock pressed against her, seeking entrance.

Zara thrust her hips upward in silent encouragement, urging him on. He stared down at her, his eyelids heavy with need.

“I’m going to explode if I don’t get inside you. I’ll try to take it slow. I don’t want to hurt you, but—”

“I don’t want it slow. Please, Lane, I want you.”

With a low growl in the back of his throat, Lane surged into her. Her legs clung to his hips and she met his hard thrusts and silently begged for more. She stared at him, urging him on with her eyes and with the gasps of pleasure that were torn from her throat.

Desire built low in her belly and radiated upward. She clung to his shoulders and absorbed the weight of him on top of her. Her orgasm continued to build until it almost overwhelmed her. And then she was toppling over the edge, gasping and crying out, clinging to Lane while her body shuddered and finally was spent.

Taking his weight on his elbows, Lane grinned down at her. “So much better than talking, don’t you think?”

Zara smiled back at him. Lane shifted a little and she gasped at the feel of his hard cock still deep inside her. Bending his head, he suckled her nipple, tugging it into his mouth in time with the slow movement of his hips.

Despite her recent orgasm, Zara’s clit tingled. When Lane scraped her nipple with his teeth, she moaned.

“You like that, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice husky with need. She lowered her gaze and offered him a shy nod.

He directed his attention to her other breast and continued the rhythmic stroking with his cock. His movements had slowed and were deeper, more intense. She stared at him and tightened her legs around his hips and lifted to meet each long thrust. He tore his mouth from her breast and grasped her hips in both hands, holding them steady while he moved inside her.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned.

Zara clutched at the sheet beneath her, loving the feel of him inside her.

Lane picked up his pace and plunged into her again and again. Finally, his body tensed and his face stilled. Seconds later, he climaxed on a groan of relief.

A little while later, he rolled onto his side, taking her with him. She sighed in contentment, even though a part of her niggled with dread at the thought of all that was still unsaid. They needed to discuss their future, or even if they were to have one. She couldn’t bear the thought of turning her back and walking away but the decision wasn’t hers to make. Only Lane could decide if he would choose her over his fear.

She turned over onto her back and noticed the strip of morning sunshine had gathered in strength. Another day had begun. Life went on. She didn’t want to think about work, but she needed to call her boss. He’d probably caught the gist of it on the news by now, but he deserved to hear it from her.

She thought again of everything she and Lane still had to speak about and wished for just an instant they could stay this way forever—wrapped up in each other’s arms, holding the world at bay. But it wasn’t realistic and if she was anything, it was a realist.

Moving out of Lane’s arms, she went to climb out of the bed. His arm snaked out and caught her around the waist and dragged her back close to his side.

“Hey,” she protested lightly. “I-I need to use the bathroom.” She looked away, embarrassed.

Lane levered himself up on one elbow and smiled at her. “Okay, but be quick about it. I want you back in here in less than…a minute.”

Zara smiled back at him and shook her head and then remembered she was naked. It was one thing to sneak out while he was asleep. There was no way in the world she was going to stroll across his bedroom with no clothes on.
So what if they’d spent the previous hour getting to know every inch of each other?
It was different after… She stayed where she was.

Lane frowned down at her. “I thought you had to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“What’s the matter? It’s right through there.”

She ducked her head under the sheet. “I know,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Then, what’s the problem?” Lane sounded bemused. Zara grimaced beneath the bedclothes. Trust a man not to get it.

“Close your eyes,” she demanded, still hidden.

“Why on earth…? What are you talking about?”

“Just close your eyes. Have you forgotten I have no clothes on?”
There, she’d said it.
Her face flamed.

Her announcement was met with choked laughter. Lane peeled back the sheet that covered her head and gazed down at her, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

She shook her head and refused to look at him.

“Sweetheart, we just spent the past hour—”

“I know,” she interrupted him, her cheeks ablaze. “But…” She stared at the bedspread and shrugged. “You know…”

Lane brushed the hair back off her face, his fingers gentle. “Zara, look at me.”

Through a sheer act of will, Zara raised her gaze and met his. Her mouth dropped open at the love and tenderness that filled his eyes.

“I love that you’re shy,” he whispered. “It reminds me how new you are to all of this and that’s so very special.”

Zara offered him a lopsided smile. “Thank you. I know it sounds silly after all that we’ve done, but I…it’s kind of different when we’re not…we’re not…” She couldn’t say the words aloud.

“Making love. I know what you mean, sweetheart and if I hadn’t grown up in a family of boys, I’d have probably learned to have a little more modesty, too.”

She swallowed a sigh of relief. He leaned over the side of the bed and produced the shirt he’d worn the day before. He tossed it in her direction. She caught it and hugged it to her, grateful for his understanding.

“I’ll grab you a clean towel and some more clothes.” His gaze traveled over her. “I can’t say they’ll be much of a fit, but they’re something. You’re probably not keen to pull on the prison garb again.”

“Thanks, Lane. I guess I should be grateful the police kept my dress as evidence. If I never see it again, that will be too soon.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, but disappeared just as quickly. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. “Anytime.”