Hired

by Lily Harlem

  “Everything all right?” I swallowed a lump in my throat.

  “Perfect.” He smiled. “Fergal says he’s just about to call your father and smooth things over. Are you sure you don’t want to call him first?”

  “No, no.” I shook my head. “He’s best off speaking to Fergal, they’re good friends, have been for years.” I mashed my lips together, wishing I didn’t have to spout such untruths.

  Logan shrugged. “Yeah, they must be, ’cause Fergal sounds pretty chilled about everything, he’s usually real uptight after a midweek game, his voice high and fast, you know, like he’s a rubber band about to snap. Said he’d had a lovely afternoon with a friend.”

  I nodded and tried to rid myself of the mental image of Fergal’s skinny, old body covered in whipped cream and Giselle standing above him with an apron and a wooden spoon.

  “Mmm, that’s nice.” I could just imagine the state of the silk sheets. They’d have to be dry-cleaned.

  Logan huffed in amusement and pulled on his shorts. “Probably his girlfriend. Bet he didn’t have as much fun as us though,” he said through a cheeky grin. “Bet she’s nothing on you.”

  “Mmm,” I said, thinking of Giselle and her long, lean body and her glamorous, no-expense-spared style. We were certainly very different, and she probably was the sort of woman Logan would normally go for, apart from the whore bit of course.

  I shook the negative thought from my mind and wondered what Giselle would make of what Logan and I had done that afternoon. Would she find it perverted or was anal play part of her repertoire? Maybe it was on her extras list for special customers? I had no idea and I didn’t want to know. What Logan and I had experienced together had been so intimate, so trust-based, that to talk about it to anyone else would alter the erotic memory and somehow make it feel dirty when it had been amazing.

  “Fergal’s upped security on the outer perimeters of the villa,” Logan said. “So we shouldn’t get any more intrusions from the press, no doubt they’re all hotfooting it down here for a shot of their own.”

  “Good,” I said. “That’s really good.”

  “You stay resting.” Logan shoved a hand through his messy hair. “I’ll make us some food.”

  “That sounds great. I’m starving.” I pulled the cool sheet to my waist and looked out the door at the waves. The breeze tickled over my still-sensitive nipples. “What did he say about tomorrow evening?” I called as he reached the door.

  “Brick’s coming.”

  “Brick?”

  “Yeah, my teammate, you know the one from the game the other night.”

  “What, here?” I shifted around to look at Logan, concern creasing my brow.

  “Yeah, but don’t worry, he won’t be here until late. Apparently he’s on the next island visiting a sick aunt and he’s hitching a ride back.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’ll stay over and catch the plane with us the next day.” Logan shrugged and strolled away.

  I looked out the door again. The small yellow bird I’d seen earlier hopped onto the deck, searching out more crumbs. Brick was coming here, to our villa. On our last night. My heart slumped in disappointment. I didn’t want to share Logan. I wanted it to be just us…here…forever.

  I frowned at the bird, which cocked his head and looked at me with his beady eyes. Who was I kidding? Guys like Logan didn’t hook up with girls like me. When we got back to reality it would be all over. Sure he said he wanted me to go to the game, but the chances of tickets turning up were slim to none.

  I couldn’t beat down the negativity. I pictured him going back to his sportstar lifestyle while I got down to intense study and gritty, hard work. It would’ve been so much easier with one hundred thousand dollars in the bank, but that was history now. There was no cosmic event in the Universe that could persuade me to take a penny from Fergal Gunner. I would just have to accept the way this was going to end, me not only poor but also with a crack in my heart—but just a crack, because if I didn’t fall in love with him then it wouldn’t actually break. That was how it worked. Right?

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning Logan woke me by peppering kisses across my cheek.

  “Keep your eyes shut,” he whispered as I squinted at the brightness of daylight. “Stay in that dreamy slumber while I worship your beautiful body.”

  Who was I to argue? If Logan Taylor wanted to worship my body, I was going to savor every single second of it. Record it all in a delicious memory to recall on cold nights and use as a blanket against loneliness.

  He kissed down my neck, slowly, leisurely, thoroughly. I sighed in appreciation, curling my hands over his warm, smooth shoulders. He shifted his weight over me, using his knees to nudge mine apart. I spread my legs, inviting him.

  “You taste of sleep and sex and candy,” he whispered onto my lips as he hovered over me. “All my favorite things.”

  I kept my eyes shut and ran my palm over his jawline, let the spiky hairs scratch my flesh until my thumb rested on his bottom lip.

  “I can’t believe I’ve only woken up with you twice,” he said as his cock nudged at my entrance. “I feel like we’ve known each other forever.” My thumb moved as he spoke words that further inflated that annoying bubble in my chest. He was a cruel man, Logan Taylor, ambushing my heart when I was sleepy and vulnerable.

  He pushed his cock into my damp folds. I arched my neck, pressing my hands into his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his hips. I groaned, tilting my pelvis for more, encouraging him in to the hilt, until I was sure he was touching my cervix. He was so deep, he felt so good. How could it be wrong? All I could think of was Logan inside me, becoming part of me, becoming part of my world. Nothing could take this memory away and I savored the sensation of flesh on flesh.

  “Ah, fuck,” he groaned by my ear. “Why is it I want to come as soon as I get inside you, Brooke?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and pressed my cheek to his as his pubic bone woke up my clit.

  He pulled out and rode back in, set up a slow, steady pace that rubbed all my sweet spots, inside and out. We had all day but our bodies had other ideas and within minutes I was clambering for an orgasm. My skin was hot, his weight was heavy and I had to drag in quick breaths as I got closer and closer.

  “Logan!” I said desperately as bright lights flashed behind my eyelids.

  “What, sweetie?” he said in a strained voice.

  “Please, I’m gonna come…”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Faster, harder…please.” It was what I needed, what I wanted. “Now.”

  He shifted his weight up onto his hands. “Open your eyes now, Brooke,” he said. “Watch me enter you, watch me drive into you hard and fast the way you want it.”

  I blinked at the harsh light. Logan loomed over me. His biceps balled, the tendons on his neck strained and his shoulders were so wide he was like a building.

  “Watch my dick,” he said, his eyes flashing before he dipped his head to view our connected bodies.

  I followed his line of sight. His wide chest heaved over my jiggling, side-slung breasts and his abs had contracted into neat rows of power. Lower down our pubic hair meshed—his black, wiry curls tangled with my thin blonde strip of hair. He lifted his hips and began to withdraw. The deep scarlet of his shaft came into view, shining with my moisture. The angry purple veins had dilated thickly and as he pulled out completely, I saw the crest flushed to burgundy with arousal and the slit expanding.

  “Logan,” I cried. “Where’s the condom?”

  “Fuck,” he rolled off me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “It doesn’t matter, just get one.” I sat up and spun to search the bedside table.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. I heard the tearing of foil. Already he was rolling one down his shaft. “I’m really sorry, Brooke, you make me lose my head, you make me forget everything.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, lying down and holding out my arms. “Just
get back to where you were.” I smiled. “Exactly where you were.”

  He repositioned and we both watched as his sheathed cock disappeared into my pussy. With each inch that went from view, the sensations in my core amplified tenfold. We groaned in synchrony and pleasure rocketed through my abdomen as he began to thrust in and out, watching each movement with his hair hanging over his face and his breath coming in long, controlled breaths.

  He stilled at the hilt with his hips pressed against my inner thighs, held himself as hard and deep as he could possibly go.

  “I could stay here forever,” he murmured.

  I tried to answer but coherent words wouldn’t form. My orgasm was there, blossoming, growing, there was only one conclusion now—release. I shivered and shook. He was pressing so hard on my clit with all his weight, that combined with the fullness tipped me over the edge. He didn’t need to move a muscle and I was climaxing.

  “Oh god, Logan,” I wailed as I flew apart at the seams. My pussy clenched his cock as my stomach flooded with red-hot release.

  “Lord, give me the strength to survive this,” Logan muttered then withdrew and forged back in, pounding deep and fast. I cried out, consumed by waves of explosive pleasure crashing through me.

  I gripped his shoulders as he steamed into me with uncontrolled lust. When his cock hardened to steel, I felt his muscles shudder beneath the surface of his skin. He buried deep one last time, threw back his head and bared his teeth. “Ahh, mother fuck…ahh, good god…” His cock pulsed and pumped deep within me as he poured into the condom. His arms gave way and he collapsed, shifting just enough so that I was cradled in his arms without being flattened.

  He pressed his mouth to my hair. “One hell of a start to the day,” he panted on a jagged breath.

  * * * * *

  We dressed, drank coffee and decided on a stroll to the beach cafe. The air was still, the sun hot and the small beach village held an air of calm laziness. Logan glanced around and, happy we weren’t being watched by press, picked a table under a blue umbrella. A terra-cotta pot of white jasmine sat next to us, flooding the air with sugary summer scents and reminding me of Aunt Belinda’s yard.

  We received a welcome from the waitress as if we were old friends, and since it was now lunchtime, ordered the catch of the day, salad and a bottle of white wine.

  “Cheers,” Logan said, clinking his glass to mine.

  “Cheers.” I smiled. “What are we celebrating?”

  “Meeting,” he said before taking a sip. “Us meeting is definitely something to celebrate. We’ve made some fabulous memories to take home.”

  I took a sip of the crisp wine and glanced out to sea. Memories to take home, that’s all this was. But I’d known it from the start. Logan was destined for the “holiday romance” file in my brain—I just hoped my heart knew that too.

  “What?” He set down his drink. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yes, there is.” He tipped his head to the side. “What did I say wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  His hand reached for mine. “I might be a bit slow sometimes but I know when I’ve put my big foot in my mouth.”

  I took a deep breath and pasted a smile onto my lips. “We’ve made fabulous memories,” I said. “Ones that will stay with me for a long time so yes, we should celebrate.”

  He studied me with narrowed eyes. “Are you still coming to the game on Saturday?”

  I swallowed and shrugged. “If you want me to?”

  “Of course I do.” His brow creased.

  “You don’t have to say that, Logan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you don’t want me to come you can take the invite back. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  I looked down at the delicate jasmine flowers and watched a tiny bee examining them. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to get me tickets. Perhaps you just said it to be polite… We had, after all, just had sex.”

  His jaw dropped and he stared at me for a long moment. “Did you suck my dick to be polite?” he asked incredulously.

  “No, of course not and that’s not what I meant.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand where this has come from? I thought we were all good.”

  I pushed a hand through my hair. I felt hot and flustered, prickles of heat spiked at the flesh on my back and between my breasts.

  His voice dropped low. “I offered because I want you to be there. I want to see you after the game. I want to see you the next morning too, in my bed, all sleepy and sexy like you were today.”

  “But where will it go Logan? Where will we go?”

  His jaw tensed and his eyes darkened.

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You’re a highly trained, highly paid, successful athlete and I’m a chubby girl who wants to be a nurse.” I glanced out to sea. “And I know I’m a bit kooky, everyone is always telling me that.”

  “Don’t say all that stuff about yourself like it’s a bad thing, Brooke.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles.

  I shrugged.

  He gave a huff of amusement but there was no humor in the sound. “You’ve got it all wrong. I love the fact you want to be a nurse, it’s a more commendable career than flicking pucks into a net and checking opponents into boards.” He lifted his hand from mine, crooked his finger beneath my chin and turned my face to his. “And as for being a bit…kooky.” He smiled. “I just happen to think kooky is cute, hell, I’m even getting used to it.” He licked his lips and his gaze dropped to my cleavage. “And your curves, well, they’re the best damn shapes I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing naked, bar none, like…ever.”

  I raised my brows. He was such a skilful liar. So damn persuasive that I almost believed him.

  “Don’t fight it, Brooke.” His face creased into a smile that went right up to his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t fight it, I’m not.” He paused and dropped his finger as the waitress set down plates of barbequed fish and bowls of vibrant salad glazed with a honey and mustard dressing.

  “Anything else?” she asked, rubbing her hands on her floral apron.

  “No, this is perfect,” Logan said, his gaze not leaving mine. “Absolutely perfect.”

  I spread out my napkin and picked up my cutlery but I didn’t feel hungry. My emotions were spiraling and threatening to spin out of control. Logan was just digging a deeper hole for me to bury myself in with all his compliments and smiles.

  “What color is my aura today?” Logan asked, spooning a mountain of salad onto his plate.

  “Pardon?”

  “What color is my aura? Any streaks of black?”

  I concentrated through the blue haze the umbrella cast over us. It was hard to see his aura but from what I could make out it was a perfectly clear scarlet. Unblocked and unstreaked, it shone from him in a powerful but controlled way.

  “It’s just red, a deep, vivid red,” I said.

  “See.” He popped a sliver of flaked white fish into his mouth.

  “See what?”

  He swallowed and shrugged. “You’re good for me, Brooke. Why the hell would I give that up just ’cause we’re going back to the mainland?”

  I took another sip of wine, let the liquid coat every inch of the inside of my dry mouth. “But—”

  “There’s only one variable in all of this,” he said, suddenly clattering down his knife and fork and resting clenched fists on the table by his plate. “And that is do you want to get involved with ‘Phoenix’ and all the crap that entails?” His brow creased into three neat lines and the muscle in his cheek jumped. “The lies the press write and the hockey management’s grip on my life. The relentless rink bunnies who even if we’re together will try to drape themselves over me. Could you stand to get involved in that media circus? Could a woman like you really consider giving up normality
for me?”

  I looked into his blue eyes, sparkling the same way the sun was hitting the sea behind him.

  “A woman like me?” My brain was spinning, my heart melting. There was no question about it, Logan Taylor was a dangerous guy. He should come with a big yellow warning—hazardous to the health of your heart.

  “A woman like you,” he said, reaching for my hand. “A beautiful, intelligent, caring woman who could have a normal life with a normal guy, white picket fence on an ordinary street, two point five kids.” He frowned and tugged at his bottom lip. “Could you, would you give us a go?”

  “Well, I think we’ve made a pretty good start,” I said hesitantly, wondering if I’d see a retreat in his face if I started going along with his suggestion.

  “Hell, yeah.” He grinned. “But what I’m suggesting is more than a fling in the sun. I’ve always been a selfish guy when I see something I want and, Brooke, I want you.” He shrugged. “I want you here and now and I want you back home, when I’m on the ice, when I’m off the ice.” His voice lowered. “What do you say? I know you’ve been hurt before, lied to, but can you find enough trust to give us a shot?”

  I looked at the new pink scar on his forehead and the muscle flexing in his cheek. Against my better judgment, I itched to touch him, kiss him, I couldn’t wait to have him inside me again and feel his body shudder as he took pleasure from mine. But there was so much at stake now, it wasn’t just sexual satisfaction, it was my heart, still tender and bruised from Sam. Was I ready to put it up for another pounding? One that would be more obliterating than that last, since pounding was Logan’s profession and he’d managed to get much deeper into my core than Sam ever had.

  But looking into his face my common sense fled, my stomach twisted and my heart spilled over. “Yes,” I said on a breath that threatened to judder with both fear and joy. “Yes, I do trust you and I will give us a shot.”

  He pressed his knuckles into the table and stood, leaning over our lunch to brush his lips to mine. “Good,” he said onto my mouth. “Just don’t go making me feel like I’ve had another damn stick to the head.”