Come Hell or High Desire (17 page)

“Yes, Sloane, right now, there’s no one for you but me.” And he breached her with
one long, slow stroke that left her breathless, aching, and painfully aware that it
was so much more than he’d said.

Because there would probably
never
be anyone else for her but him.

His eyes burned into hers as his body ground deep, then stilled until the only movement
was the rhythmic pulsing of him inside her. She bit her lip and moved her hips in
an effort to ease the ache that was re-building.

“More?”

She wrapped her legs around his waist in answer. His arms shook as he pulled back
slightly, throbbing at her entrance. She tried to push herself up at him, but he held
himself back. “Then say it, Sloane. Say the words, and I’ll give you anything you
need.”

Why? You can hear my thoughts, damn you
.

“I want to hear you say them out loud.”

No.

“Yes,” he said.

“No! Yes!
Oh, yes.
I need this. I—”
Love you
, she thought, and his body took hers with wild abandon. Every point of contact between
their bodies shimmered with light, a conflagration of energy finding its perfect balance.

Acutely aware of her own heartbeat, she sank her fingernails into the shifting muscles
of his back. He grabbed one of her legs, pushing on the back of her thigh and changing
his strokes so they were a shorter, sharper angle, rocking against her pelvis until
she gasped for air as a whole new world of ecstasy beckoned her.

“Look at me, Sloane.”

She did and found him watching her, his eyes black, fathomless, as though he’d crawled
inside her very soul. So much pleasure. There was no place for her to hide.
What do you see inside me?

And then all thought vanished.

Her vision grayed and suddenly exploded into a mass of impossible blue light that
flashed across her brain, removing inhibition and ambiguity. She screamed his name
and felt him spasm. In moments, he collapsed and rolled onto his back, bringing her
with him so she was resting halfway across his trunk and legs, her head pillowed on
his shoulder. They lay that way for a long time.

Whoa
. Just,
whoa
.

For her, sex had always been healthy, fun, recreational. Then she moved on. But now,
what she’d lived through with Zack…

How could she move on after an experience like that? He’d gone someplace within her
no one else ever had.

Wait!
She reared up, alarmed that he might have read her thoughts again. But he was sound
asleep, his eyelashes forming jet black crescents against the dark circles under his
eyes.

Ah, now you’ve done it. You’ve fallen for a complicated, dangerous man.

Earlier, he must not have heard her sudden declaration of love because he really hadn’t
reacted.
Thank God.

So her butt was covered for now. No way was she going to gush any feelings yet. They
still had too many horrors to iron out.

She should crawl out of bed and turn on the radio to see if they were saying anything
new about the case. But she wanted to savor this time with him.

Softly, she brushed a hand across his bruised midsection and the swarthy skin low
on his abdomen. His penis jerked, but his lips were still parted in slumber. Her eyes
tracked back down his body and saw that he was now slightly hard again. She smiled,
nestled more comfortably into the crook of his arm, and tried to go to sleep. But
he shifted and his hand brushed her nipple, making her ache once more.

As she rolled away to take a cold shower, he flattened her on her belly, hooked his
arm under her pelvis to raise her hips, and mere seconds after the foil ripped, he
entered her from behind. She moaned as he undulated against her, his left hand grasping
her hip, the fingers of his right hand massaging her in the most perfect spot.

His breath rasped over her skin, a blanket of sensation. “God, woman. Your need called
to me in my sleep.”

Oh, how she wanted to deny it. But she was already climaxing.

Chapter Twenty-four

Zack walked into Sloane’s kitchen bare-chested, towel-drying his hair, and gave her
a grin that would melt a freightliner of ice. She turned to the stove to plate the
eggs. She’d managed to get out of the shower first. Or perhaps crawl out would be
a more apt description. Her cheeks heated when she recalled how the cool tiles had
felt against her back as she’d clung to him, the steam cocooning them in an Eden of
erotic sensation.

She took both plates to the table. “Eat, then we talk.”

He looked carefully at her. “Okay.” He filled her cup with milk, his with coffee,
and then slid into a chair beside her. “Amazing what a couple hours of sleep, a decent
meal, and…
you
can do.”

A trickle of water from his hair streamed down the side of his face, and even as ravished
as she was, she wanted to lick it off, climb on top of his wicked body, and find nirvana
again.

She got up from her chair, bustling over to the pantry, pretending to look for something
until she got her hormones under control. The man was a sexual warrior. He undid her.
Completely. As in,
no control
. Her hand stilled on a box of cereal.

Lord, it was glorious
.

He burst into delighted laugher behind her. She swiveled, then smacked at the arms
that encircled her waist. “Stop that! You can’t just jump into my head whenever you
feel like it!”

“How can I help it when you think so loud?” He laughed again when she pushed past
him to the table and sat down. A smile of her own threatened to break surface at hearing
him laugh so freely. He rejoined her at the table. “This psychic business sure gives
me an edge. I like it.” He winked at her, and her heart turned over.

“
I’m
supposed to be the kook here. I don’t understand why you can hear me whenever you
want, but I can only hear you when you’re under duress.”

“You can usually
see
what happens to me.”

“Yeah, but I can’t
always
hear you—your thoughts—like you can hear mine,” she said, puzzled.

He studied his coffee for a moment, then looked up and brushed a strand of her hair
back from her eye. “I’ve heard you bit by bit since yesterday morning. The longer
I’ve been around you, grown to trust you, and I suppose the more you trust me, the
more I’ve been able to hear.” He paused. “I guess I’m open to it. And… I’m beginning
to listen for you.” His lips curved.

Seriously, she wanted to crawl in his lap. His smile grew wider, and he patted his
thighs. “Come here, I’m all for it. See? This telepathy’s good shit.”

She wadded a napkin and threw it at him. “Get over yourself. I’m not sitting in your
dang lap. What if you don’t always like what you hear?”

He shrugged. “I can take it. As long as you’re always honest.”

“Can’t sensor one’s thoughts,” she said.

“You’d be surprised.” He leaned back, tilting the chair onto its rear legs. She couldn’t
take her eyes off his magnificent abs and chest. She started to feel warm again. He
cleared his throat. When she finally managed to look him in the eyes, he was smirking.
“With thoughts like those, however, don’t worry about censorship.”

“For the love of God, Zack. Give me some privacy. I’d think you of all people would
understand.” She grabbed their plates, clinking them together as she set them in the
sink. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but it was unsettling to know someone shared
your mind. She swung around to return for the mugs only to bump into him. When she
tried to grab the cups from his hands, he managed to turn it into an intimate exchange.
The teasing light had gone from his eyes.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t intrude. I’m sorry.” She could see that he meant it. She
nodded. Things were happening so fast.

She turned back to the sink to busy herself with the dishwasher. She could feel him
standing behind her, probably wondering what to do or say next. She wondered the same.
Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him reach out a hand to touch her shoulder,
but before it got there, he pulled it back and jammed it in his jeans pocket. “As
far as you not being able to hear me all the time, maybe you should try trusting your
abilities as much as I do.”

She turned around. “Okay, maybe I’ll try. Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Her girly parts tingled when he smiled again. How had she never noticed the tempting
hint of dimple in his chin before? That, paired with his sculpted lips…
wow
. Her gaze went back to his, but he gave no indication that he’d heard her that time.
Perhaps he was going to honor her request and stay out of her thoughts.

She frowned.

By the time she’d started the dishwasher, he’d left the room and returned with a zippered
pouch, a CD, and a notebook. He slid back into a chair. “I’ll be out of here before
the cops come with a search warrant.”

“Oh, stop it. You’ve only been here three hours. You had to sleep, you know.”

When his lips tilted up, she didn’t have to read his mind to know they were both remembering—vividly—what
had come before and after their sleep.

“Mind if I use your phone? Archie hasn’t been able to get one to me yet.”

Phone.

Phone!

“Crap! I almost forgot!” She went to the coat closet and pulled Zack’s phone out her
purse. “On my way back to my car after giving my report, I spotted this halfway under
a bush. It was in the established police perimeter, but they obviously hadn’t gotten
that far yet.”

“Sloane—”

“Don’t worry, I took the battery out right away so they couldn’t trace it. At least
I think that’s how it works.”

He stood up and a cold wind blew through her. She put a careful hand on his chest.
“It’s okay. Okay? If you won’t go to the police, I want you here.”
So I know you’re safe.
“I need to go into the store for a bit today. Without Tori—”

For a while, she’d forgotten.

His eyes were intent on hers. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Do what? I told you—”

“I don’t have to be in your head to know you’re beating yourself up. It’s all over
your face.”

His words released the choke hold on her throat. “But she was
murdered,
and I was—”

“Living.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “We’re going to find Ann and avenge Tori,
but we’ve got to be tough. Your body—what we shared—was a balm I can’t begin to explain.
You needed it, too, so stop feeling guilty and let’s get to work.”

She watched him for a moment. She felt more than saw the torment in him. Subtle waves
of energy that brushed against her skin, whisper-soft, as though they were holding
back echoes of pain. There was so much to this man. What forces had shaped him to
be so guarded, yet so tender? He was so warm when he let down his defenses.

When she realized he was waiting for her to respond, she nodded, and he led her over
to the table. He sat down and opened the zippered pouch. Absently, she picked up the
CD and immediately dropped it again, her fingers tingling painfully.

Zack looked up from a piece of paper. “What’s wrong?”

“What is that?” She pointed at the CD.

“No idea. John never shared any of this stuff with me, though he did say one day he’d
fill me in on his past. Guess we both thought we’d have more time.”

She squeezed his arm. “I hope someday you’ll tell me more about him.”

He nodded. “This was in a box I found in the office vault. Twenty years’ worth of
bodyguard and home security invoices, along with this.” He handed her a newspaper
clipping.

The resemblance between Ann and the woman in the photo—Serena Galasso—was uncanny.
“There’s no denying she’s her mother, is there? How come Ann never knew her?”

“It’s a mystery,” he said.

“Maybe she was psychotic and all the security was John’s way of protecting Ann from
her mother.”

He cracked his knuckles. “I don’t think so. Even though John wouldn’t talk about Ann’s
mother, I never got the impression he hated her or was afraid of her. Quite the opposite.
The only thing he ever told Ann was that her mother was a beautiful woman who could
sing like an angel.”

“Ann never even knew her name?” It was mind-boggling. Zack nodded. “And she was okay
with that?”

“Ann may have tried to press him, but I doubt it. Besides, there was no moving John
once he made up his mind,” he said.

Sloane backed away from the table. “Why do you think this stuff is important right
now?”

He waited until her eyes met his. “Why do you?” He spoke in hushed tones, almost as
if he were talking to a frightened child.

“Apparently you don’t need to ask.”

He smiled slightly. “You make it so easy for me.”

“I don’t understand all this.” Her arms gestured vaguely.

How could she begin to encompass everything that had happened to and between them
in the last couple of days?

He pulled out a chair for her next to his, and she reluctantly sat down. “Don’t try
so hard,” he said. “Your response to the CD only confirms that there’s something to
be learned from it.”

“Like what?”

“John clearly wanted to protect Ann from someone. Why else would he have these?” He
looked at the invoices. “Why else would he have made only one request before he died?”

She didn’t want to see the guilt spilling shadows in his eyes. “No. You’re the one
who told me not to—”

“He said, ‘Look after her, Zack. She’s young and maybe too soft for this world. Not
like you and me. After I’m gone, she’ll need your guidance.’” Zack got up and walked
into the living room.

She followed him. “You can’t possibly blame yourself for her disappearance.”

His back was to her as he observed the slow moving fish in her aquarium. “Really?
He gave me the chance to re-earn my self-respect. He gave so much—
so damn much
—and asked only that one thing in return.”

“What were you supposed to do? Live with her? Be her chauffer? Hold her hand when
she crossed the street? She’s an adult for heaven’s sake!”

“She was
so sad
, and I left her to fend for herself. After everything her father had done for me.”

“Maybe you didn’t know all the gory details of her life, but you still called to check
on her the night of the storm. What else were you supposed to do?” She moved to pull
on his arm, and he swung around, jaw tight. Her breath caught. This was her Zack.

But different.

More dangerous
.

“Yeah, what? Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m good for fucking nothing.” He backed her into
the wall, sending a framed print swinging on its wire.

An electrifying heat clawed through her. “No pity parties, Zack. You’re the one who
said we had to be strong.”

“I
am
strong.” A potent whisper.

Oh, Lord, she felt it. Felt that strength in the coiled power of his thighs, spread
to box her in, his jeans lightly abrading her bare skin.

Felt it in the solid wall of his chest that made her simultaneously weak and aware
of her own power.

Felt it in the calloused hands that flattened on the wall on either side of her head.

In his eyes.

His eyes
.

Her nostrils flared with the effort to keep oxygen pumping to her brain. “You don’t
scare me.”

He leaned in to sniff her neck. “I could.”

She shivered, unable to prevent her head from listing to the side. “No.” His breath
feathered warm torture along her clavicle. Her fingernails curled into the hem of
her shorts. “You…you won’t win this one. Take it back.”

“Take…what…back?” He punctuated each word with a graze of his lips against the line
of her jaw.

She was well and truly on fire now. A keen yearning that transcended anything she’d
ever known. Her palms came up, dying to touch him, but not. Not yet. “That good-for-nothing
BS. Take it back.”

“Why does it matter?”

In the green depths of his eyes she saw her future. “Because
you
matter. To me. You’re good for
me
.”

She felt the stillness in him, the turning over of her words, the weighing, assessing.

She swallowed hard.

“Okay. For you, Goldie,
anything.
”

His lips were a phantom moving across her skin. She wondered at his restraint.

Passion. Tenderness.
So often exclusive.

Not with him.

His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she felt it like a physical caress. Her lips
parted in response. When he looked into her eyes, they smoldered with a question.

Yes. Oh, yes
.

She thought she’d spoken aloud, but then, it wouldn’t have mattered.

This time, he would’ve heard her either way.