Page 25 of The Captive
Her eyes glimmered with reluctant heat.
Their heads moved closer, their lips mere inches apart.The scent of her hair drifted into his nostrils, sweet and feminine and so very addictive.He breathed her in, drowning in the scent, while his body hummed eagerly and his mouth tingled with the need to taste her.
So he did.
CHAPTER 7
Lana’s heart was beating a million times a minute as Deacon’s mouth covered hers.Her disloyal body melted against him like butter on a sizzling pan.He smelled so unbelievably good, spicy and masculine, and she couldn’t think straight surrounded by that intoxicating scent.And his mouth…it was warm and firm.Familiar.She found herself responding to the kiss, brushing her lips over his even as her brain screamed for her to pull away.
God help her, but she couldn’t move.The attraction she’d felt for this man a month ago came crashing back in full force, sending streaks of heat through her body and making every inch of her tingle.As his hands slid down to her waist and moved in a featherlight caress, she was reminded of the slow caresses and lazy kisses he’d bestowed upon her body the night in the hotel.
The night they’d conceived this baby.
She broke off the kiss at that sudden reminder, stumbling backward and sucking in a gulp of air to try and clear her head.“You…you should go,” she squeezed out, as her heart thudded relentlessly against her rib cage.
Something that resembled dismay flashed across his rugged face.When Lana glanced south, she noticed the thick hard length of him straining against the zipper of his black pants.His obvious arousal only made her heart beat faster.Lana wanted to kick herself for it.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.He edged toward the door like a stray dog wary of strangers.“I…shouldn’t have done that.I’m sorry.”
A third mumbled apology and he was out the door.The click of the lock was like the final touch to a ghastly drawing.She’d kissed him.Kissedherabductor.
Lana’s body felt ravaged, hot and needy and tingling with residual desire.The reaction horrified her, had her staggering toward the bed and collapsing on the hard mattress.
“Your mommy is out of her mind,” she whispered to her belly.“This ordeal has obviously messed your mom up, big-time.”
Her tiny son or daughter didn’t respond, of course, but Lana could swear she felt a ripple of movement in her womb.Her brain told her it was impossible; she was only four weeks along.Babies didn’t start kicking until, what?Sixteen, seventeen weeks?But the phantom flutter succeeded in calming her down.Her pulse slowed to a regular rhythm, and her chest, seconds ago tight with shock and desire, loosened considerably.
“Okay, this isn’t so terrible,” she said.“Mommy and Daddy kissed.No big deal.”
But itwasa big deal.Deacon Holt had lied to her, seduced her and kidnapped her.She wasn’t supposed to have any feelings for the man.None.Zilch.Zero.
Yet for some reason, she still couldn’t lump him into the same evil category as the others.Her instincts had never failed her before, and right now, they were telling her that deep down, Deacon Holt was a good man.
Was she crazy to think that?
Several hours later, she got the answer to that question when Deacon entered the back room with stiff robotic movements, a dinner tray in his hands.He barely looked in her direction as he held out the tray.Steam rose from the plate, carrying the aroma of grilled chicken and roasted potatoes.It smelled so good her mouth watered involuntarily.
If there was one good thing about this ordeal—and good was a real stretch here—it was the food.Sure beat the bland pasta dishes she cooked up for herself back in her Florence apartment.She took after her mom—couldn’t cook worth a damn.Her aunt Bonnie Gene was a whiz in the kitchen, though.Lana always looked forward to Bonnie Gene’s yummy home-cooked meals whenever she visited her brother Cole in Maple Cove, Montana.
Accepting the tray, Lana slid back so she was leaning against the wall.She picked up the plastic fork, then hesitated.“Who’s doing the cooking?”she couldn’t help but ask.
“Me.”
Her head lifted in surprise.“Really?”When he nodded in confirmation, she said, “How’d you learn to cook so well?”
His response came in the form of a shrug.
“Do you like it?”Okay, she was totally grasping at straws here, but making idle conversation was the only way to ensure she didn’t bring up that explosive kiss.
Obviously, it wasn’t even on his mind, which meant she needed to follow his lead and pretend it hadn’t happened.Pretend that she hadn’t kissed her kidnapper.Hadn’tbrushed her mouth against his, or parted her lips in anticipation, longing for the taste of his tongue.
“Are we going to talk about this?”she blurted out.
Wonderful.So much for pretending it never happened.
“What’s there to talk about?”Deacon’s tone was indifferent, almost cold, and it totally grated on her nerves.
“We kissed,” she said, her stern voice reminding her of the tone her brother Cole’s housekeeper, Hannah, used to reprimand her when she stole cookies off the baking sheet.
