The Ransom (The Munro Family Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  “I’m okay, you know. I-I wasn’t hurt. Terrified out of my mind, maybe, but you got there in time. You saved me.”

  He spared her a glance, his eyes narrowing on her bruised and battered face and then returned his gaze to the road. A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I just can’t help thinking what might have happened if we’d arrived another five minutes later.”

  She closed her eyes at the fear and anger that still coated his voice and took hope from its presence. He cared. She was sure he did. She prayed he’d be willing to admit it.

  “Thank you…for everything.” The words felt inadequate, but it was all she could manage. He acknowledged her gratitude with the barest of nods.

  In less than ten minutes, he pulled over to the curb outside his condo and switched off the ignition. Zara released her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Lane met her on the pavement. He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to his side. His casual action sent butterflies fluttering in her belly. She risked another glance at him and her breath caught.

  From the corner of her eye, she spied her BMW. It was parked where she’d left it and looked so normal, she couldn’t believe the terrifying string of events that had occurred since she’d last seen it. Lane followed her line of sight and his arm tightened around her shoulders, drawing her even closer. She looked up at him and sent him a wobbly smile of gratitude.

  “Let’s go inside,” he murmured and together they walked in through the gate that led to his building.

  A few moments later, Lane tugged out the key to his condo and unlocked the door. Zara followed him inside. Lane walked on down the hall toward the living room, switching on lights as he went. He picked up a jug and began to fill it with water from the sink.

  “Coffee?”

  She met his gaze briefly and then both of them looked away.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, although coffee was the last thing she wanted. She watched while he pulled two mugs from a cupboard near the cooktop and then spooned in coffee from a jar. She thought of the last time he’d made coffee and her face grew warm.

  His actions slowed and then came to a halt, as if he also remembered. He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

  “Do you really want coffee?”

  “No. Do you?”

  He shook his head. Slowly, he rounded the counter and held out his arms. With a sigh of relief, she stepped into them and laid her head against his chest, taking strength from his solid warmth. Gently, he tilted her chin up and lowered his head until his lips found hers. The kiss was whisper soft and so sweet it nearly brought her to tears.

  And then she was crying. She thought she was through with it at the station, but hot wet tears once again coursed down her cheeks as the terrifying memories bombarded her yet again.

  “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again, I swear.” He stared down at her, his eyes bright with emotion. She reached up and pulled his head down to hers.

  The need to obliterate the horror she’d endured surged through her. Her lips moved over his, hot and explosive until both of them were gasping for air. Lane broke the contact and lifted his head, his breath coming hard.

  “Zara, no. I know what you’re doing and I know why. It’s normal to want to reach out for something or someone after experiencing a trauma like you have. There’s nothing I’d like more than to make love to you all night, but it’s not what you need right now, even if you don’t agree.”

  His face was filled with such tenderness and love and yearning, Zara’s breath caught.

  “Please,” he added, his voice husky with emotion. “Please trust me on this.”

  She dropped her arms and took a step back and kept her face averted. He was right. Of course he was. Her actions were nothing more than the reaction of someone who’d survived a trauma.

  But he was wrong on one count. It wasn’t just someone, anyone she wanted. It was Lane. It had been only him from the moment she’d first seen him and nothing would change that.

  “Zara, sweetheart, please look at me. I need to know you understand.”

  She drew in a deep breath and released it on a sigh and then bravely met his gaze. “I understand and you’re right. I even believe you when you tell me you want me.”

  A smile tugged up the corners of his lips. “Want you? Christ, if I wanted you more I’d explode. I’m going to have to take a cold shower if I’m to have any hope of sleeping tonight.”

  She blushed and returned his smile, pleased at his response. “Do you think… Um, I mean… Could you maybe just hold me awhile? I-I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  His eyes darkened with emotion and he immediately stepped forward and claimed her with his arms. He held her in tight against his chest and rested his chin on her head.

  “Of course that’s all right. I’ll hold you for as long as you want. It might kill me, but I’ll do it. For you, I’ll do anything.”

  His expression turned fierce and his arms tightened around her protectively. A moment later, he relaxed his hold, but with his arm still around her shoulders, he guided her down the hall.

  “You can take the spare bed, but there’s more room in mine.”

  Heat seared her cheeks, but she bravely met his gaze and said, “I’d rather stay with you.”

  Lane groaned under his breath and pressed a kiss against her hair. “No problem. My bed’s right through here.”

  She walked with him into his bedroom and he released her to switch on a lamp. Soft, golden light illuminated the room and glinted off the polished wooden headboard. His bed was huge—a king-size at least. It was unmade and pillows were scattered around. Lane blushed and looked away in embarrassment and then began hastily collecting clothing, newspapers and other things off the floor.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy these past few days and I’ve barely had time to close my eyes before I was heading back to work. I-I make it most times, I assure you. I just haven’t had time—”

  She reached for his arm and squeezed it. “Shh,” she whispered and pressed a finger against his lips. “I know how busy you’ve been. You’ve been helping me and my family, remember? What kind of person would I be to complain about the state of your house?”

  He stopped and looked back at her and then smiled in relief. “Thanks for understanding. I’m not the tidiest of people, but I try and make an effort most of the time.”

  She smiled back at him. “Lane, be quiet. I don’t care how messy or neat you are. You’re so much more than that, I can’t find the words to describe it.”

  Slowly, her smile faded and she was filled once again with need. As if sensing her change of mood, he dropped the pillow in his hand and closed the distance between them.

  His lips were warm and firm against hers and she pressed herself up against him. Her arms crept up around his neck and she returned his kiss with as much passion as she could muster.

  “Oh, God, you taste so good,” he muttered against her lips.

  She could only moan in response and cling to his broad shoulders. She relished the feel of him, his muscled arms encompassing her, protecting her from harm.

  He gentled the kiss and slowly pulled away. With a tender touch, he drew her down with him onto the bed and lay down beside her. Gathering her in his arms, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

  Zara snuggled into his warmth and sighed. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve already thanked me.”

  Zara lifted a shoulder up in a shrug. “Yes, but it doesn’t seem like enough.”

  “You’re safe now, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

  He pressed another soft kiss on her lips and her eyelids fluttered closed. She was sore and achy and tired, but she’d never felt so happy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Thursday, February 1, 6:03 a.m.

  Zara came awake slowly, aware of something warm and firm beneath her cheek. A glimmer of light shone through the half-open curtains indicating that mornin
g had arrived. She reached out a tentative hand and connected with a solid wall of bare skin and muscle.

  Lane.

  He must have stripped off his shirt sometime during the night. His skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingers. He stirred and mumbled in his sleep and his arm tightened reflexively around her. She loved how he made her feel safe and protected, even while he was asleep. She sighed in contentment and snuggled back into his side. Laying her palm on his chest, her fingers skimmed across his nipple. She was immediately rewarded with a soft gasp.

  “That’s one hell of a way to wake up,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss in her palm and her belly somersaulted. Time and a sound sleep had taken the sharp edge off her memories of her kidnapping and she shyly smiled back at him.

  He winked at her and her pulse took off at a gallop. Rumpled from sleep, she’d never seen any man look sexier.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked, his eyes shadowed with concern.

  “Great. I slept great. I don’t think I woke even once. Th-thank you,” she stammered. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would have slept at all.”

  A tiny frown appeared between his eyes. “Would you stop thanking me, Zara? I wanted you here. I wanted to help. I wanted to take care of you. I still want to take care of you.” His last admission was made in a tone only just above a whisper. She stared at him and he held her gaze, intensity burning in his eyes.

  He rolled onto his side, taking her with him until she was lying on her back. He lifted his weight off her with his elbow and stared at her a moment longer, before slowly lowering his head to her lips.

  Zara’s breath came short. Her heart thumped so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. His lips touched hers with the lightest of pressure and then came back to sample more. Again, his lips grazed hers and again, they moved away. She squirmed beneath him, wanting more, but too shy to come out and tell him.

  He held her gaze and his eyes darkened to earthy green.

  “I want to make love to you, Zara.”

  Relief surged through her. Yes! That’s what she wanted, too. She stared back at him and saw the need in his eyes and was suddenly enveloped in heat. She didn’t know if he’d changed his mind about steering away from commitment, but right there and then, it didn’t matter. She wanted to love him; she wanted him to love her. There would be plenty of time afterward for reflection and debate about the wrong and right of this.

  “I want to make love to you, too,” she whispered and was rewarded by a flare of his nostrils and a sudden intake of breath. It was like she’d opened the door on his passion. All of a sudden, it was as if he couldn’t get enough. He bent his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss that left them both gasping. And still, it didn’t seem enough.

  His lips trailed fire everywhere they touched. Her mouth, her ears, her neck. He even pressed the gentlest of kisses on her still-swollen eye and damaged cheek. Her skin was on fire and still, she craved more.

  She clung to him, holding tightly to his shoulders and rejoicing in the feel of his hard body against hers. The feeling was so foreign and yet so totally right that she blinked away tears of contentment.

  His erection pressed insistently against her belly, burning right through their clothes. She blushed at the thought of him inside her. Gently, he reached up and unclasped her hands from around his neck and moved his weight off hers. With fingers that weren’t quite steady, he inched up the shirt of her prison garb and worked it over her head. When he saw the bruises around her nipples, his expression darkened and his jaw clenched.

  As if forcefully removing the images from his mind, he drew in a deep breath and eased it out and then gently reached out and cupped her breasts. The reminder that she was braless beneath her shirt would have embarrassed her had she not caught sight of the sheer wonder in Lane’s gaze.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Even more beautiful than I remember.”

  His words filled her with confidence and she lifted her bottom and took off the loose prison pants. Now, fully naked, she lay there beneath his gaze. The memory of her standing in front of Draco in the same state flashed through her mind, but she set her jaw and forced the image aside. That was over. She was safe. Lane had found her. Rescued her. Lane had brought her home.

  Emboldened by the desire in his eyes, she reached out and tugged at his suit pants. His belt slipped easily out of its loops and then she started on the button and zipper. He stared at her all the while, his eyes dark with need.

  With her help, he shucked off his pants until he was down to his underwear. A moment later, even that scrap of fabric was gone and he laid down beside her and let her look her fill. She placed her palms flat on his warm, firm skin and relished the feel of his strength beneath her fingers. Slowly, she eased herself up above him and then bent low to kiss him.

  The feel of his lips, full and soft, kissing her back with a magic that was all his, sent a need so strong surging through her, she nearly gasped at the wonder of it. He increased the pressure and then his tongue sought entry and she gladly let him in. The few kisses she’d had in the past could never compare to this and she was amazed at how wonderful the simple action could be.

  Without breaking contact with her mouth, Lane drew her flush against him. Every part of her body touched a part of his. She shivered with desire.With a low growl, he rolled her over once more and kissed her long and hard. His lips lowered to her neck and lower still and he kissed the tops of her breasts.

  She gasped at the heat of his mouth on her skin and silently begged for more. As if reading her desperate thoughts, he suckled and nipped and kissed her like he’d never get enough. She knew how he felt.

  She moved against him, loving the feeling of his weight and hardness against her. His hands found her breasts and gently he kneaded them and shaped them and teased them with his tongue. She gasped and pressed her legs together against a sudden surge of need.

  Lane eased away from her and sat back on his haunches. “I want to look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

  Zara blushed, thankful the early morning sun hadn’t yet made a dent in the shadows, but Lane was having none of it. Reaching over, he switched on a lamp that stood on the nightstand near her head.

  A soft yellow glow gently illuminated the room, but the heat spread across Zara’s cheeks. She closed her eyes and turned her face away and hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed in what he saw.

  “Look at me, Zara.” The order was issued in a tone just above a whisper. She sighed and forced her gaze back to his and was surprised by what she found there.

  His face was open and full of tenderness, his eyes were filled with desire. Forgetting her nakedness for a moment, she took in his golden magnificence. The breadth of his shoulders swept into a muscular chest and then tapered to narrow hips. Amidst a thick bush of dark hair, his erection stood proud and impressive. She looked at it with a mixture of curiosity and nerves. He was so much bigger than she imagined.

  Everything about him was bigger. When he lay down on the bed beside her, his legs stretched so far his feet were almost off the bed. Her gaze returned to his cock, jutting out from his flat belly and she bit her lip in sudden indecision.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll fit.”

  Flames lapped at her cheeks. She looked away—mortified—but Lane smiled and shook his head.

  “Come here.”

  As he tugged her toward him, she reluctantly sat up and wriggled closer until he drew her against his chest.

  “You’re so tiny,” he murmured against her hair. “I can understand why you might be a little wary, but it will be okay, I promise.” He applied pressure to her chin with his fingers until she looked up at him. “Do you trust me?”

  She stared at him and read the sincerity in his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, knowing it was true.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers one by one. It tickled and sent ripples of heat and desire th
rough her belly…and lower. He took her hand and laid it flat on his chest and then moved it back and forth, like she was stroking him. She was stroking him.

  Of her own volition, her fingers moved through the fine scattering of hair on his chest, teasing, caressing, and she reveled in the feeling of his warm, male skin. He groaned with pleasure and moved until he was stretched out on his back, offering himself up to her.

  Gaining confidence, she slid her hand lower, across the smoothness of his taut belly. Her finger dipped into his navel and tested its depth. He laid still beneath her hand, but she felt the tension in the muscles that crowded his belly. She glanced at his face. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. Feeling bolder, she inched her hand closer to the thick length of him that lay stiff against his belly.

  With the lightest of pressure, she touched him. He sucked in his breath and she pulled her hand away as if she’d been burned.

  “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop.”

  Checking to make sure his eyes were still closed, she moved closer and encircled his erection with her hand. Her fingers strained to meet around the impressive width of him and she tried not to think about how it would feel inside her. She stroked her hand inexpertly along his shaft, hoping that was what he wanted.

  His hand covered hers and stilled it. Moments later, he moved her hand under his, showing her how to pleasure him. After a little while, he released her hand and at once, she felt bereft. With murmured words of encouragement, he urged her to continue.

  Taking a deep breath, she tightened her fingers around his cock and applied pressure the way he’d shown her. She was rewarded by his groan of satisfaction and renewed vigor in his erection.

  With her confidence growing, she increased the pace and pressure of her strokes. He moved restlessly on the bed. The tip of his cock glistened.