Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One

by Robin Kaye

  After spending the day in Logan’s jacket, surrounded by his scent, his warmth, and his own brand of geeky, bad-boy humor, for her own sanity, she’d planned to get rid of him at the door. Then he went and did something so thoughtful, she caved. Who else would think to walk her dog because she was cold?

  She stepped out of the shower and dried off. She wanted him. What could it hurt? He was only going to be working with her for a few more weeks, and it wasn’t as if they hadn’t proved they could work together even after the chocolate cake and whipped cream incident.

  She rushed into her bedroom and grabbed the phone. “Kelly, what do I wear?”

  “When?”

  “Now. I just got out of the shower, and Logan took Pepperoni for a walk. He’ll be back any minute.”

  “And what are we dressing for?”

  “Sex?”

  “So I guess I won the bet. How long has it been? Oh yeah, three days.”

  “Would you mind gloating later? Help me out, would you?”

  “What time is it out there?”

  “Seven thirty. Why?”

  “Too early to put on a naughty nightie, huh?”

  “I don’t have any of those.”

  “What do you have?”

  “Not a lot.”

  “Yoga pants?”

  “Yes.”

  “With nothing underneath.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely. Do you have a low-cut sweater, maybe something fuzzy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put that on with a sexy bra.”

  “Why no panties?”

  “Just trust me on this. They’ll only get in the way or get ripped and your panties are too expensive to replace on your budget.”

  Skye tossed the phone on the bed. “Hold on a sec.” She pulled on a racy little bra with a lace strip that would peek out of the sweater when she leaned forward. Hot but not slutty. She picked up the phone and pulled her black yoga pants up her legs. “Any other advice?”

  “Dry your hair or you’ll get bed head.”

  “You really do think of everything.”

  “Do you have protection?”

  “No.”

  “Skye, what am I going to do with you? You got close enough to take Logan’s measure and you didn’t go out and buy condoms in his size?”

  “I wasn’t going to sleep with him until about twenty minutes ago.”

  “What happened to change your mind?”

  “He took my puppy, Pepperoni, out.”

  “Okay. It’s not a sin to be easy; just don’t be cheap.”

  “Kelly, I’ve spent the last three days looking for his one big fault. I haven’t found it yet.”

  “Amazing.”

  “He’s interesting and funny and hot. He even smells good. God, if he hadn’t been engaged to Payton, he’d be perfect.”

  The door slammed and she heard Pepperoni’s nails race across the hardwood floor.

  “Skye, we’re back. Did you get warmed up yet?”

  Just thinking about Logan while she showered got her downright hot. “He’s back. I gotta go,” she whispered.

  “Okay, have fun, but be safe and call me when he leaves.”

  “Yes. I just have to dry my hair.” She tossed her phone on the table and pulled her sleeves down over her hands.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Not for food. “Not really. Go ahead and raid the fridge if you want. There are a ton of leftovers.”

  “You cook at home too?”

  She stepped out of the bedroom and the way he looked at her made her think that having bed head wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  She ran her hand through her hair, not sure of what to say. “What are you in the mood for?” She made her way to the kitchen—the one place she felt comfortable—and opened the refrigerator.

  Behind her, he rubbed his hands together as if he was trying to warm them, and then leaned against the counter.

  She felt his eyes on her ass. Damn, she should never have listened to Kelly about going commando. “I have chicken scaparelli—it’s chicken with mushrooms, Italian sausage, and enough garlic to keep the vampires away for the next year.”

  “Only if you’re going to eat with me. It’s the garlic—we both have to eat it so we’ll cancel each other out.”

  “I have some leftover roast. I can make you a French dip sandwich on ciabatta bread with provolone and au jus.”

  He pulled her away from the refrigerator and slid his hands under her sweater, covering her stomach. He kissed the side of her neck. “I think I lost my appetite for food.”

  She closed the door and leaned back against him. “We can always raid the refrigerator later.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” His kissed his way to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. “I couldn’t get the taste of you out of my head. I had almost talked myself into believing it was my imagination. It wasn’t.”

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think the man wrote romances in his spare time. “Logan? Do you have protection? I don’t—”

  “I stopped just in case.” He pulled a bag out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the counter.

  “Thank God.” She blew out a breath, and sucked in another as his hand toyed with the rolled waistband of her yoga pants. Her stomach tightened and heat rushed everywhere. She felt as if she were on fire and he hadn’t even really done anything yet. She turned in his arms and reached up to kiss him. She was on her tiptoes, her mouth pressed against his, and she groaned as he lifted her off her feet and then set her on the counter like she weighed nothing. It wasn’t as if she was fat or anything, but the man didn’t even grunt.

  She stared into his eyes. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are the color of a rich caramel?”

  “No.”

  “Caramel is my favorite—it can be even better than chocolate if it’s made right.”

  He pulled her to the edge of the counter and slid between her legs.

  “Don’t tell anyone—I don’t want to be forced to turn in my Chocoholics Anonymous Bar. But then it’s not as if I don’t love chocolate. Sometimes you just have to have it, you know?”

  “Is that what you want, Skye? Chocolate?”

  “No.” She swallowed and felt as if she were drowning in caramel. “I want you to kiss me.”

  “That I can do.” He smiled—even his teeth were perfect.

  She was expecting a full frontal assault. Okay, maybe she was hoping for one. If he’d move things along, she wouldn’t have much time to think, and thinking at times like this was highly overrated. But then she really didn’t remember—she’d been quite a bit younger and more than a few pounds lighter the last time she was anywhere near this position. Instead of putting her out of her misery and kissing her, Logan took his sweet time.

  He stared into her eyes until she swore he could read her thoughts, before brushing his nose against hers like she used to do with her dad when she was little. Then his hand slid from her hip up her back and cupped her neck.

  Damn, at this rate she was going to go gray or chicken out before he actually followed through—and she really didn’t want to chicken out. The one thing she always wanted and never got was good sex. She had a feeling that whatever Logan was willing to give her would be a far cry better than her past experiences. Not that she had that many—she had been with only three men.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  “I’m wondering what’s taking you so long to kiss me. Then I started thinking about how I’d wish you’d hurry up because I don’t want to think. Thinking right now would not be kind to either of us—”

  “I guess the theory that nine-tenths of the seduction of a woman is between her ears is a fallacy. At least for you. Personally, I’ve always compared women to a fine red wine. You have to let them breathe.”

  “Logan,
I’ve been breathing all day.” She slid the jacket off his shoulders, folded it, and laid it beside her on the counter—out of Pepperoni’s reach. “You’re not going to need this for a while. The sweater needs to go too.”

  He reached behind him and yanked the dark brown turtleneck over his head—it was so soft, it had to be merino wool, maybe cashmere. It was one of those sweaters girls stole from their boyfriends and guarded with their lives when they broke up with the guy.

  He tossed it on the counter and stood between her thighs wearing a plain white T-shirt and slim-fitting jeans that on most men would make her question their sexual orientation—but not him.

  She lifted the T-shirt’s hem and he sucked in a breath that tightened already-tight abs. She kissed the center of his chest as he tugged off the shirt and tossed it. She didn’t care if the T-shirt ended up as Pepperoni’s plaything, as long as Logan ended up as hers.

  He stepped back and blew out a breath. Under the fluorescent lights every muscle in his arms, his chest, his neck, even his face, stood out in stark relief. “Skye, are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes. I want you.”

  * * *

  Logan grabbed the bag and hauled Skye off the counter so fast, she yelped. Pepperoni jumped against his legs as he carried her to the bedroom. There was no way their first time was going to be kitchen-counter sex. No, he needed room to maneuver, and a hard, cold, granite counter was fine for a quickie, but this wasn’t going to be quick. He hoped.

  He’d spent weeks wanting her, weeks thinking about exactly what he’d do if he was ever lucky enough to find himself in this position. He didn’t have weeks, but he’d take a night to start with.

  He laid her on the bed, kicked off his shoes, and climbed up beside her, pulling her over him. “We have all night. I plan to make the most of it.”

  He kissed the sexy little smile right off her face. The kiss went from sweet and shy on her part to down and dirty on his. Her taste was seductive like the finest merlot—velvety smooth—as smooth as her skin. Her scent was overwhelming—vanilla and blueberries and musk—her touch, electric. He wanted to climb inside her and take up residence. He wanted to consume her, control her, brand her—he wasn’t sure where these strange feelings came from, but he was too far gone to contemplate it.

  He needed Skye and he’d never needed anyone.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders and she sucked on his tongue, drawing a groan from deep within him.

  He grabbed hold of her ass and surged against her. Skye’s soft sweater brushed his chest, her scent surrounded him, and he threaded his hand through her hair, holding the back of her head, anchoring her mouth to his.

  Her heat penetrated his jeans. If he didn’t slow down and get a grip, he’d take her like an animal. That wasn’t him. He was a gentle lover, but something about her had his inner beast pulling all the strings.

  She moaned and nipped at his chin.

  He slid the hem of her sweater up and over her head, revealing beautiful, pale, satiny smooth skin—he’d never felt anything so soft—a lacy pink bra, and the best set of natural breasts he’d ever seen. She sat astride him and he stared—probably for a while, but damn, it wasn’t every day a man got to disrobe the woman he’d been lusting over for weeks. But this was more. She was more—ripe, pink, lush, and overwhelming.

  When her hands moved to cover her breasts, he realized his mistake. A blush ran from her chest right to her hairline. He blew out a breath. “God, Skye, I always thought you were gorgeous, but I was wrong. You’re exquisite.” Her breasts filled the cups, nearly spilling over; the dip of her waist fit his hands perfectly. No protruding bones, no sharp edges, just beautiful, soft, tempting curves.

  He slid a strap off her shoulder with the tip of his finger. Her breath caught when his lips came in contact with the lacy edge. He traced it with his tongue and her hands fell from her breasts to his head. He smiled as she arched her back, pressing her nipple into his open mouth, and the taste of her had him craving more. With a flip of his wrist, he took care of the back closure and let the scrap of silk and lace fall. “So sweet.” He switched breasts, drawing the other deep into his mouth.

  Skye slid closer and rocked against his erection. If she didn’t stop, he was going to embarrass himself.

  His hands locked on her full hips, and when that didn’t stop her, he flipped her onto her back. There was no way he was going to lose it before he got inside her. He’d waited too long. He’d been a walking hard-on ever since she stepped into his life.

  She bounced into the pillows, her arms spread to catch herself. He took full advantage of her shock, yanked her sexy, clingy black pants off, and threw them over his shoulder. He’d wondered if she’d worn a thong ever since she bent over to look in the refrigerator, but he’d never suspected she was bare under there. He knelt beside her and groaned. “So beautiful.” Pale skin from head to painted black-and-white polka-dot toenails, cut only by a small triangle of dark curls covering her mons. She snapped her legs together and did a modified hand jive.

  God, she was sweet, and looked edible. “I don’t know what to kiss first.” He settled on her lips, the color of ripe berries, thinking he’d move south from there to be sure he didn’t miss anything. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath.

  He stretched out beside her, pulling her into his arms. She fit against him as if she were made for him. Her breasts pillowed against his chest, molding to him—real, soft, the tips of her pebbled nipples burning into his skin. He explored her mouth as his hands mapped the hills and valleys of her pliable body, listening for the change in her breathing. Watching, learning, discovering.

  She tugged the button of his jeans and he brushed her hands away. When she made a second try, he caught her wrists in one hand and held them above her head, which did amazing things to her breasts. He rubbed his cheek against their softness.

  He swallowed hard and prayed for strength and control. He was going to need both. He looked into her dark blue eyes—almost black with arousal. “Sugar, I’m a ladies-first kind of guy. But right now, the only way I have a prayer of making that happen is if you keep your hands to yourself for a while.”

  She licked her lips and his dick jumped in his jeans. God, what a mouth she had. “And if I don’t?”

  Her deep voice nearly did him in. He was screwed. “If you don’t, I’ll have to resort to desperate measures.” He’d already recited the periodic table in his mind, and then added the atomic weights for good measure—it wasn’t helping. “I’m good at tying knots.”

  Skye had never considered bondage a turn-on until that moment. She certainly wouldn’t mind tying Logan up. Just the thought of it shot a surge of heat into her already overheated system.

  She’d always known that there were some men, somewhere, who took foreplay seriously—she’d just never slept with any of them. Logan seemed to take it to the extreme—something she might appreciate later, but right now, not so much—especially if she wasn’t allowed to join in on the fun.

  He nibbled his way down the column of her neck and she slid her foot up his jean-clad leg, his razor stubble igniting her already oversensitive skin.

  She might not be allowed to use her hands, but he’d never said she couldn’t use the rest of her body. She held back a moan, tossed her leg over his hip, and groaned when she came into contact with his fly. “Oh God, yes.”

  His hands were everywhere, big, strong, long-fingered, and rough, as if he worked outside, but so gentle. They skidded over her body like a virtuoso’s over ivory, hitting just the right notes to make the music come alive.

  The tug on her breast drew the tension to her core as his hand squeezed her ass, then held her hip, pressing her back against the mattress. He overwhelmed her, controlled her, and felt almost too good. So big and broad, so freakin’ beautiful. His skin was dark compared with hers. He was whipcord lean, muscular, and cut. He looked, smelled, and tasted like something out of a dream—but he was real and he was with her.
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br />   His knee slid between her legs, his tongue invaded her navel, and a hand brushed the inside of her thigh.

  She sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut—embarrassment mixing with intense pleasure as he kissed a path over her belly. Sparks of need shot through her. She never thought having Logan kiss her belly would be a turn-on. And she definitely had a belly. It had never bothered her before, but then she hadn’t had anyone see her naked in…well, a long, long, long time.

  She reached for him, but he’d already wedged himself between her thighs, which would not have been a problem if he still hadn’t had his pants on.

  Strong hands spread her legs, making room for his broad shoulders, gripping her hips, lifting, and then he sent her a sexy smile. “Dessert.”

  Her sputtered protest trailed off to a guttural moan. She’d known he had a talented tongue, but she had no idea he could do that with it. Her back arched, her toes curled, and she reached for his head, not sure whether it was to pull him away or hold him there forever. Pleasure so intense it skirted the edge of pain assaulted her, heat seared her, gathered, and then exploded.

  He slipped a finger inside her, filling her, increasing the pressure, the pleasure, the intensity. She felt like a windup toy, wound past the breaking point. She couldn’t think, she was incapable of words, of movement, of anything. As if his fingers, lips, and tongue weren’t enough, the addition of his teeth sent her flying. It seemed to go on and on; she’d never survive. Her heart felt as if it were galloping right out of her chest; her throat was raw—the scream she’d heard must have been her own. Still, he didn’t let up. One orgasm built on another and all the while her body trembled, her muscles convulsed—her entire world seemed to collapse on itself and then splinter into a thousand shining pieces.

  When she opened her eyes, all she saw was Logan’s smiling face. If she could speak, she’d say something, but then he looked pretty pleased with himself—almost relieved, which was amazing, since all the pleasure had been hers. “I need a minute—or an hour. I’m not sure.”

  He grinned again, and she melted a little more and told herself that no guy was perfect—not even him. He had to have a fault.