by Lola Karns
The rose petals looked ridiculous across the snow-white covers. Too hopeful and naively romantic. She raised the duvet and with a snap and sent the petals flying in a rain of blood. The healing would begin. Logan better join her. She wouldn’t beg. The robe, T-shirt and her panties joined the roses on the floor before she crawled under the covers.
Pure bliss. Her sheets at home were sandpaper compared to these. The bed faced a floor-to-ceiling view of the strip and the lights of a fantasyland. She’d come all this way to play make-believe. Creaks and clinks from the other room heightened her senses.
“Thought you might want some water overnight. Half the glasses in my kitchen ended up in the bedroom.”
“Thanks.”
“I kept that stand for you.” He walked to her side of the bed and set down a glass.
Her brows pulled together, stitched in memory. That first night she stayed over, he had a nightstand on his side of the bed, not both. She’d dragged a cardboard box from the living room for her glass. After they had sex, he got out of bed and disappeared. He returned at some point and woke her up. “Here. For your cup. Glue’s still wet.” He’d built her a nightstand at 3:00 a.m.
“Thanks. You remembered.”
His lips pursed. “Some things. Not enough.” He climbed into the bed, robe and all. “Good night.”
The nerve! Logan didn’t even try to kiss her. Instead, he lay on his back, eyes closed. His breaths grew slower and a low almost snore rumbled from his throat. Bastard.
That orgasm he gave her earlier had been good, no, fantastic, but not closure. Time to take charge. Even without a little help from friend Margarita. She pressed her body against his and draped her bare leg across the robe until she nudged into bare flesh between his knees. He huffed once but didn’t flinch.
Her hand snuck under the fabric across his chest. The cushion that once covered his abs disappeared and left a row of ridges. She traced them from his belly button to sternum. His jaw twitched. She pulled upright. As her hand ran down his chest, she studied his face, a land of contrasts. The strong line of his nose, bent from a break, his pale skin, with eyebrows and hair that seemed too dark to be natural, and those thin lips that hid his magical tongue. Thank goodness he kept his eyes closed. That translucent blue might have sucked her into his world again.
Micro-movement of his lips and eyelids egged her on. Two could play this game. She paused at the band of his briefs. Her splayed fingers dragged over the fabric. His cock hardened, but nothing happened upstairs. She moved her mouth down his body as his muscles jolted to attention. The fabric covering the goods lacked that salty heat of skin, but she wrapped her lips around his cock anyway. It pulsed with life. A low groan belied his inaction.
Keira snapped the elastic.
“Hey!”
“Faker.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“So.” She straddled him, grinding her bare crotch against him. Dry humping they called in high school, but there was nothing dry about this. She readjusted against him to allow maximum contact between her back and his cock. “You don’t seem adverse to the idea, or at least Lucky doesn’t.”
Logan’s mouth stretched into a grin, safer to keep her focus there. “Lucky’s always been partial to you.”
“Really?” Heat pooled between her legs and left her lightheaded. She could justify half credit for her list if nothing else.
“He’s been rock hard most of the night, without you grinding on him.”
“Maybe he’d rather be in me, then.”
Mid-pulse, she ended up on her back. Logan blocked her view of the ceiling.
“Careful what you wish for.”
She sensed his gaze on her. She strained to look past his shoulder toward something, anything in the vista but him. Freckles and scars filled her field of vision. “I need you.” And she did. One last time to excise the past and move forward.
His pelvis ground against her in a slow circle.
“Then I better give the lady what she wants.”
He leaned away and kicked off his remaining clothes until Logan knelt before her in all his glory. His penis was perfection, long and firm with a slight curve that meant he hit her G-spot without fail. Her carpenter kept his best tool beneath the belt. Her mouth watered in jealousy of her hands as they stroked his length. She leaned forward, determined to give him the best head he’d ever get in his life. His salty silken skin filled her mouth. He moaned and grabbed her hair. She worked him with slow strokes designed to induce agony until he pushed her shoulders away.
“No more. I want to be in you first.”
“Good.”
The goodie basket on the nightstand contained plenty of sheathing options, but he didn’t seem to look too hard, and she didn’t care, so long as he hurried up. She reached to help roll the condom down. “Nuh-uh, darlin’. You tortured Lucky so much, and I don’t want him to burst yet.”
“You better start thinking of baseball because he’s got a job to do.”
“Down here?”
The head of his cock tapped against her floodgates, a slight dip in and out, but not the fulfillment she wanted.
“Yes, there. Get in.”
“Not till you look at me, Keira.”
“I see all those muscles in your neck working too hard keeping your shoulders up and not hard enough being inside me.”
“You’ve been avoiding me all night.”
“I’m begging you to fuck me. How is that—”
“You haven’t looked me in the eye once. The least you can do is let me look in those eyes as I fill your pussy.”
In one night, he’d revealed more about his past and his inner demons than in the entire time they dated. Then, she’d wanted his heart. Tonight, Keira wanted his body, nothing more. Or so she lied. His confessions unsettled her, but introspection could wait. She needed him inside to fill the ache in her soul. She opened her eyes.
Logan plunged inside. Her eyes grew wide and round and dreamy and Lucky stayed hard. He drove into her a second time, her lids fluttered. He moved a hand to her chin. Stay with me. Hear me.
He didn’t have long, he could tell, so he stared into her eyes, willing her to listen. One thrust, one word. Hold it together.
“Keira, Jones, I, love, you, this, isn’t, good—”
Lucky went off like a rocket ship. Stars swirled before his eyes. This was heaven.
The wind knocked out of him.
“Isn’t good? Are—”
His mouth found hers, and he sucked the words right out of her mouth.
“Lucky didn’t let me finish.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Well, he finished, did you?”
“You couldn’t tell? I came so hard I thought I might squeeze your cock off.”
“Glad you didn’t.”
“Yeah, well. Not good?”
He stroked her hair and her ass. He couldn’t tell which was smoother.
“Lucky was overeager for your beaver.”
Her mouth gaped in shock, and her cheeks flushed red. Keira glanced away as a squeak escaped. Their connection evaporated, but this time, it offered a kick in the gut. Something knocked the air from his lungs. The thirst for an easy answer made itself known. The twitch in his hands and burn in his throat demanded attention. The demons grew strong. Under closed eyelids, he battled the impulse. One day, one moment, one indiscretion to ruin all the work.
Warm hands pressed his cheeks.
“You didn’t say that.” The soft chuckle caressed his face. He opened his eyes. The beauty across from him urged him to victory. “You are unbelievable.”
Logan shrugged off the remnants of fear. He might need a dictionary to find new ways to surprise her.
“Lucky wants you to know that even while my mouth made dumb decisions about what and who to put in there, he stayed true.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Her confused expression made him want to confess all.
“I was going
to rename him if he refused to cooperate tonight. He went soft on me on the night of that wedding. Hasn’t been game for any action since. I went to doctors. First one said quitting the booze might help. It didn’t. They ran all these embarrassing tests. Nothing. The docs decided it must be something in my head, that I needed to relax.”
Keira shook against him.
“Stop laughing.”
“It’s hilarious.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I do.”
“You’re a woman.”
“One with an admirer.” As soon as her hand dipped lower, Lucky perked back up to say hello. “We better get you out of that wetsuit before you suffocate.”
“Yea-a-h. Give me a minute.”
Nerves poked at all his sensitive spots. She didn’t act like a woman interested in good-bye sex, not when she went for his pecker a second time. But Logan knew, if he took too long, she’d pack up and run away.
Relief swept through him at the sight of her in the bed. The doorframe added support to his shaky legs.
“You’re still here.”
“There are a couple of hours till sunrise.” Her shoulders shrugged.
“About that.”
Her brow furrowed. She looked at him, eyes full of expectation. It hit him with the force of a hammer on a nail. Her gaze focused on his eyes, not his ear or chin or Lucky. She saw him. His heart pounded faster, and pushed blood through him like a warm hug on the inside. His voice didn’t want to work. Neither did his brain. A smile spread across his face as he watched her.
“Hmmm?” She cocked her head to the left.
Keira’s waiting. Say something. His feet carried him across the room and to the bed.
“I don’t want this to be good-bye.”
“Who said—”
“You. In the other room.”
“Right.” The way she drew out her vowels revealed uncertainty.
He touched her hair, her lids lowered, but she met his gaze.
“I’ve been focused on one day at a time, sometimes one minute at a time, but when I’m with you, I can’t help but think about a future.”
A low noise emanated from her throat, as his hand stroked her nape.
“I know you signed up for one night and were pissed when it turned out to be me, but I can’t stay here any longer if this is it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you.”
Logan had said those words to her before, sort of, but not like this. His love professions came as they fucked, sometimes with added detail about which specific body parts or actions merited such a declaration. Keira pressed her fingers to her sternum to try to slow the racing within her. Before her sister’s wedding, she would have welcomed those words and spit them back without thinking.
“I can’t say it back to you.”
His hand continued to stroke her neck and hair with a tenderness exciting and unfamiliar.
“I understand.”
“And you’re not angry?”
His mouth contorted, and he glanced toward the ceiling for a brief moment before his focus returned to her. Her chest warmed even as her heart rate slowed.
“I’m not asking you to say something you don’t believe to make me feel good. But I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to, to try and convince you to see me again on another day or another night. I want a chance to prove myself worthy of you.”
Not long ago, she dreamt of having babies with Logan. She stared at the city lights. Promises and vows in Vegas might not mean much in a day or a week. With closed eyes, she tried to see them five years down the road. Nothing appeared on the canvas in her mind. No babies, no house, no pile of empty bottles. She inhaled. His musky scent filled her lungs. A translucent-blue question mark shimmered in the darkness.
She rolled to her side, rested a hand on his cheek, and studied him. The hour was late enough stubble had broken through his once-smooth shave. Literally rough around the edges.
Their physical intimacy was never an issue, but conversations began and ended steeped in alcohol. Being sober hadn’t brought a sadness to the evening as she’d feared. Maybe Madame Eve was right after all.
“When you opened the door, I was angry, convinced there had been a mistake. If you had come to my home and said those words to me, I would have dismissed you. No chance, no way. I set my course for closure, but when the window on the past closed, a door opened.”
Emotions crossed his face as she spoke, micro-moments of confusion, sadness, and hope.
“Dayton’s not too far away.”
The smile on his face broadened. “Less than an hour from where you’re living. My truck’s reliable, and there’s some flexibility in my schedule, especially on weekends.” He kissed her fingertips.
“We can start slow, lunch or coffee. As for worthiness, I may have a few issues to work on, too.” Like laying off the self-help magazines and liquid courage.
“You’re perfect.”
“Hardly, but you know who is?”
“No.”
“Lucky.”
He chuckled and pulled her against his chest. Her legs followed suit.
“And he’s hard.”
“Always for you, Keira.”
“Good. I’m glad he’s up to the job. I’ve got something that needs hammering.”
Logan rolled her onto her back and ground against her lower half. “Your dirty mind. I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Rub in”—she yanked his shoulders closer—“but kiss me first and last.”
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Bad Traveler By Lola Karns
Chapter One
“Where on earth is that teething ring?”
Gwen Jones patted the sides of the stroller, stuck her finger into every crevice she found, and tried not to catch one of Chloe’s flailing legs in the chin. Pain pierced her scalp as her baby clutched a fistful of her hair and pulled. Hard. If only she could howl as loud, but crying wouldn’t help. It hadn’t helped her inconsolable daughter in the two hours since encountering turbulence on their last flight.
Liberating her hair from Chloe’s grasp brought more discomfort and her heart sank. The last time she had seen the teething ring, it was flying through the air, along with a leaky airsick bag and an Arizona Diamondbacks novelty rattle. She wouldn’t miss the stupid rattle her ex bought, but that nubby little teething ring…. A loud exhale pushed the oxygen and hopefully the bad luck from her body as she stood. Salvation lay across the crowded airport terminal.
Pretending the dirty looks and wrinkled noses of disgust from her fellow travelers didn’t exist, she pushed the umbrella stroller with the same determination as the day she pushed her little girl into the world six months before. With any luck, the newsstand would have something, anything, to ease their mutual misery, but luck was a luxury.
The tag on a “special sale” I Love Detroit T-shirt showed, no, twenty dollars! She couldn’t tolerate the stench of her sweat and vomit-stained shirt. Chloe had a fresh outfit, but she didn’t and wouldn’t until retrieving her luggage at the end of her journey. Spending twenty dollars on something of such poor quality was absurd. The teething ring was more important. Moving to the back of the store, she passed the mints.
Is that? It is! Who knew they still made Binaca Blast? She tossed the blue blister pack into the stroller cup holder and continued toward the small-kid section. Nothing. Well, not quite. There were plenty of choking hazards and diapers. A sticker on the corner of the package drew her attention. “Holy Cow. Is that the price for one?” The teething ring, if they’d had one, would likely cost more, but she couldn’t find a binky for sale.
Chloe’s cries grew shriller. She peeked in the stroller. Her little girl appeared ready to explode, her face the color of a ripe tomato. Her eyes disappeared behind two lines of eyelashes, tears no longer forming. She was upset, overtired, and hungry. Gwen’s breasts ached. Only
a meal would bring them comfort.
“Soon, baby. I promise. Mommy will feed you soon. We just have to get to our next flight. It will be better, soon. I promise. Mommy’s here.”
She disbelieved the optimistic words and the soothing, singsong tone known to mothers around the world. In a few short hours, she’d be back at home with her mother. If Mom spoke those same words to her, she’d cling to the hope they offered.
She slid six singles and two quarters across the counter. The cashier wrinkled his nose and curled his upper lip at the crying baby, the stench, or both. Leaving the change, she steered the stroller with her elbows, freeing her hands to rip into the package. After stepping into the corridor, she spritzed herself head to toe with the powerful liquid mint. One problem solved. A million more to go.
Looking at her watch, she rushed toward the crowded gate area, fearing the time for pre-boarding had passed. Instead, the flight board listed a delay. Her abdominal muscles twitched in preparation to either laugh or cry, but she suppressed any response. She had a baby to feed. After reaching an open spot of carpet by the window, she lay out a receiving blanket and sat holding Chloe in her arms. The woes of the world slipped away.
Her exhausted, precious little sweetheart snuggled against her chest. She offered Chloe puffed rice, which she accepted, but rather than gobbling it up and reaching for more, she sucked on the piece and stared out the window with oversize, round, bluish eyes. Papery eyelids fluttered and then closed. Tiny lips pursed. At last, Chloe slept. She didn’t mind cradling the sleeping girl in spite of the numb wrist from the limp weight. Watching the rise and fall of Chloe’s chest soothed her into an almost hypnotic state.