by Avery Flynn
Logan reached around and busied his hands with the string holding her silk dress’s top in place. “Both. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the vault, but you’ve been avoiding me.”
Her heartbeat ratcheted up to Mach five when his fingers brushed the bare skin at her nape. “Not avoiding, just keeping a distance.”
He tilted his head and kissed the sensitive spot where her jaw met her ear. She nearly came unglued in his arms.
“What about how you backpedaled the moment you saw me in the grocery store?” He punctuated the question by nipping her earlobe.
“I forgot something in another aisle.” Her voice sounded so far away to her own overheated ears, so lost was she to the tiniest stroke of his fingers and lips.
“And at The Kitchen Sink?” He pulled the loose end of the tie holding her dress in place. It swung across her back and she clenched her thighs together against the yearning building deep within her core.
“Didn’t want to interrupt your lunch with Hud.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything.” If only he could ask the question that mattered: Why had she left before? His fingers grasped the knot and paused as if to give them a last chance to back out. The attraction between them was as crazy as it was doomed, but her breath caught in fear that he’d changed his mind.
The fabric knot behind her neck slipped free, and silk poured over her sensitive skin, revealing the pink upper swell of her areola peeking out from the cups of the black bustier bra. With a shimmy of her hips, the dress glided over her ass, down her thighs, and landed in a pool of scarlet at her feet.
Logan glided the backs of his fingers down her throat, across her collarbone, and between the swell of her breasts. “You’re beautiful.”
She spread open his shirt, reveling in the expanse of sinewy muscle on display. “You’re not bad yourself.”
Everything about the moment felt perfect and right. Being with Logan was like coming home.
Skimming her fingers across his flat nipples and continuing south down his washboard abs, she found her next target: the buckle of his black leather belt. As her fingers took care of the buckle, she ran her tongue against his peach nipples. She unfastened the top button on his pants and inched the zipper down. His hard length strained to break free from the confines of his navy boxer briefs, twitching beneath the pressure of her palm and rubbing against it through the ribbed underwear.
His moan vibrated against her cheek while she followed his dark happy trail until it disappeared behind the elastic waistband.
Bracing her hands on his strong thighs, Miranda looked up at Logan’s hooded gaze. “I need you naked.”
“Whatever you want, you get.”
While he flipped off his shoes, Miranda twisted his gold cufflinks so she could tug his starched white dress shirt off his arms, revealing thick biceps and corded forearms. Next, his pants fell to the deck, followed a moment later by boxer briefs. Once again he stood as naked as a proud Adonis before her, and the sight of him made her mouth dry while other parts went molten. He rubbed against her lace-covered folds, slick with desire and aching with want. In this, if in nothing else, they were perfectly aligned in purpose and plan.
Logan ran his palms down the black satin bustier covering her ribs until his long fingers curled around her hips. He slipped his hands behind her, lowering them to her ass and tucking a finger underneath the lace of her thong. In one swift motion, he yanked her against him. Desire pulsed deep within her core, and she twisted her hips, the delicious friction teasing her and hinting at the sweet relief only he could provide.
“If you don’t want me to rip these in two.” He twisted the back of her thong around his finger and pulled the material tight against her sensitive clit. “You’d better take them off now.”
The rough edge to his voice made her quiver. The underlying affection underneath made her breathless. It gave her hope that she wasn’t the only one losing herself in this madness of something so wrong being so right on so many levels. And that realization took her higher than even his skilled touch.
She captured his mouth with hers, sucking his bottom lip into her warmth and nipping the tender flesh. Confident in her control of the situation, she ignored his words, teasing him a bit longer by cupping his balls and gently squeezing. In the next heartbeat, the unmistakable sound of tearing material broke through the lust fogging her brain, and what was left of her lace thong fell down one leg.
Before she could protest, Logan spun her around, his lips caressing her shoulders as his hands unfastened her bustier’s hook and eye closures with the ease of a man who knew her body as well as his own. He kissed and licked his way down her spine, hitting each inch of revealed skin. Her thighs were quaking by the time the bustier fell to the floor, and when he stood, she leaned against his steady form.
Logan squeezed her around him and rocked against her. “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”
Both of his hands snuck around the front of her body. One hand cupped one breast, squeezing her hard nipple between his thumb and finger. His other hand delved lower, his fingers sliding between her slick folds and pushing inside.
Miranda threw back her head against Logan’s shoulder as his fingers drove her closer and closer to orgasm. Her hips moved of their own accord, twisting so that she rubbed against the heel of his palm. Energy curled into a tight ball in the base of her spine, tightening and constricting as her pleasure built.
“You are so wet and soft.” He stroked the bundle of nerves inside her while increasing the pressure. “I can’t wait to taste you later. I’m going to spread those long legs wide open and play with you until you explode all over my tongue.”
He emphasized his intent by rolling her nipple until the bliss bordered on torture. And just when she thought she couldn’t take another minute of his divine torment, her thighs buzzed, and her orgasm crashed against her, drowning her entire body in a wave of pleasure so intense it bowed her spine.
Chest heaving, she melted back against Logan, his dark chest hair tickling her back. “That was amazing.” She snuggled back, her ass brushing against him, already plotting her next move. They had tonight to feast on each other, and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.
“I hope you’re not ready to call it a night already.”
She spun around on her heel, pressing her breasts against his hard chest and wrapping her hand around his length. “Far from it.”
Stroking him, she brushed her thumb across the head. Miranda lowered herself until her knees hit the smooth teak deck and let go of him. Maintaining eye contact with Logan, she slid her wet thumb tip across her bottom lip, then licked the remainder of the salty liquid from her thumb.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Fuck.”
“Not yet.” She winked.
Anchoring herself by holding on to his solid thighs, she kissed the head before sliding his girth between her lips. He filled her mouth, forcing her jaws wide as she took in more of him before withdrawing and starting the process again, each time relishing his moans of pleasure. His thigh muscles tensed and relaxed under her palms in sync with her mouth’s movements. She undulated her tongue against the sensitive underside, wanting to take him higher. His thighs tightened under her palms. Intoxicated on her ability to bring him pleasure, she rubbed her tongue along his shaft while he filled her mouth. She reached out to cradle his balls, one finger rubbing the small patch of skin behind his sac. His legs quaked.
“That is so damn good.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, his fingers soft against her head. “Do that thing with your tongue again.”
Emboldened by his pleas, she took him deeper, stopping only when he bumped against the back of her throat. Her free hand snaked down between her legs, and she moaned around him.
“God yes, baby, touch yourself. Are you ready for me?”
Spurred on by his
words, she took him deep again as she circled her sensitive nub. The pressure from her fingers pushed her over the edge. Her moans of pleasure made her throat tighten, eliciting a growl of pleasure from Logan. He clenched his fingers in her hair, unwinding it from the tight bun.
With a half-swallowed groan that mixed agony and ecstasy, Logan pulled back on her head. “If you keep doing that I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Not ready to let him off that easy, Miranda grabbed a condom as he sat down in the captain’s chair. The wrapper crinkled as she tore it open and removed the condom before sliding it home in one smooth motion.
“My God, look at you.” Her hands caressed him, trailing her fingers down until she grasped his hips, lowered herself and positioned him at her slick entrance. “You’re beautiful.”
He pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, letting her body adjust to his size and the angle. Looking over her shoulder at Logan’s closed-eyed ecstasy, she pushed her own ecstasy higher, blanking out everything but him. They came together like nothing else in the world existed or mattered. Hands touching. Lips tasting. Bodies moving together. It was too much and not enough. It was everything. Logan was everything.
Miranda’s skin burned with need for him as he filled her body and soul so completely she couldn’t imagine the night ever ending. But no matter how much she wanted it, that wasn’t the plan. Tonight was about one thing only—relieving an itch she’d needed to scratch since she’d walked into the Martin Bank and Trust weeks ago. Maybe if she kept saying it enough, she’d start believing it, because in her heart she knew it was much more than that.
He leaned forward, changing the angle and driving deeper inside, rubbing against her most sensitive spots. The buzzing started in her calves, gaining strength as it traveled up her legs and driving out any logical thought. Swept along by the overwhelming intensity of sensation, she lost herself to the moment and let her body take her where she needed to go.
“Logan.” She only managed the single word before her world exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure vibrating through her limbs.
Plunging deeper than he had before, Logan buried himself to the hilt as he cried out his own climax. He collapsed against her back, his cheek fitting perfectly in the hollow of her shoulder.
“I’m never going to look at the helm the same way again.” Logan kissed her shoulder and pulled them both into a standing position before picking her up and carrying her down the narrow stairwell to the enormous cabin below deck.
“That makes two of us.” She snuggled deeper into his embrace, praying the steady drumbeat of his heart would drown out the little voice demanding to know what she planned to do now.
Chapter Twelve
Miranda eased her way down the wide staircase at Uncle Julian’s old house, her thighs protesting each downward step. Despite the image her lingerie drawer projected, it had been a while since anyone besides her had seen her lacy underthings. Muscles she’d forgotten she even had were making three condoms and six knee-jellifying orgasms worth of complaints.
After a night of naked fun and long talks, Logan had dropped her off just before dawn, and she’d snuck inside the isolated country house like a teenager who’d broken curfew. She’d navigated the large sitting room in the dark, avoided the squeaky stair right before the second floor landing, and tiptoed past Natalie’s room. Once in her own room, she’d spent a fitful night ping-ponging between hope and self-recriminations.
Now, four hours later, she was heading back down the stairs for a cup of coffee big enough that she wouldn’t need toothpicks to hold open her eyelids.
The cell phone camera flash stopped her mid-stride as she was coming off the bottom step. She jerked to a stop and blinked away the bright balls of white light dancing across her vision. “What was that for?”
Natalie stood in the kitchen doorway, cell phone in hand, clicking away with her thumbs. “I figured Olivia needed to see what happened when someone follows her advice. You look like hell.”
Oh, the joys of sisterhood. “I love you, too, darling sister.”
Natalie grinned and pushed up her glasses. “So spill.”
“Let’s see.” She flicked up her pointer finger. “Tyrell Hawson did not take kindly to our proposal and threw a total fit in the middle of the country club.” A second finger went up. “Someone slashed all four of my tires.” A third finger stood up. “Oh yeah, and I had mind-blowing sex with Logan Martin.”
Natalie blinked her large, blue eyes several times before spinning on her heel and striding into the kitchen. “Coffee and marshmallow crunchy cereal. Now.”
Miranda mowed through a bowl and a half of cereal and sucked down a ginormous cup of coffee while explaining the events of last night to her silent sister. The caffeine and sugar had kicked her pulse into high speed by the time she finished. Natalie, meanwhile, still drank her first cup of certified organic green tea and took dainty bites of a toasted whole wheat bagel.
“So what did the police say about your car?”
She shrugged, ignoring the spike in her blood pressure at the damage done to her baby. “Not much. I told them that I’d recently let an employee go under less than ideal circumstances. The officer said he’d go talk to Carl, but unless he confesses, there’s not much evidence to tie him or anyone else to the slashing.”
“That’s comforting.” Her cup clanged against her saucer. For Natalie, that equated to a scream of protest.
“No kidding, but right now I’m more pissed than scared. Carl’s a slimy little malcontent, but he’s not a psycho. Still, it’s a good idea to keep the house locked up.”
Uncle Julian’s house—which belonged to her and her sisters now—was an old two-story farmhouse that had been home to the Sweets for more than half a century. Solid oak doors, double-paned windows, and old-school craftsmanship made the place as safe as a Cold War bunker.
“Will do.” Natalie took a sip of tea. “Nothing we can do about Carl, but what about our good mayor?”
A hammering at the back of her skull added to the angry flush from her pounding heart. “Another goose egg. We can’t force him to accept our offer of help. Logan hasn’t given up, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“Speaking of Logan…”
She slid down in her seat. The last thing she wanted was to dissect what had happened last night. “Do we have to?”
“Does he know your plans for the brewery? That it’s just a stepping stone and you’ll be out of here in a few months?”
Hearing the words out loud stung.
“No, and he doesn’t need to know. This…” Miranda searched for the right word to describe what she was doing with Logan.
“Idiotic folly?”
She rolled her eyes so hard at her sister that they nearly fell out of her head. “Look, Judgey McJudgeypants, he’s a nice guy.”
“What about the bet? Did he call it off?”
Miranda bristled. It wasn’t like Natalie was asking anything she hadn’t wondered about while tossing and turning last night, but still. “We didn’t talk about the bet.”
“Could it all be a ploy to screw us over figuratively as well as literally?” Natalie pushed up her glasses and pierced Miranda with an inquisitive stare.
“You know you’re a real Pollyanna. I’m telling you, he’s different.” An image of him naked in the captain’s chair flashed in her mind. “He’s nice.”
“I bet he’ll seem real nice when he’s stabbing you in the back. You know what those Martins are like.”
“Listen to you, you’re just as bad as the assholes in town who never gave us a chance because of our last name.”
“Oh you’ve given him a chance before. Did he come to your defense then? Or did he just take the that-a-boy pats on the back while you were shunned?”
“That was a long time ago. He’s grown up. I’ve grown up.” She resisted the urge to bang h
er head on the table in frustration. “I know a roll in the proverbial hay without benefit of a relationship is beyond the pale for you, but I know the score. Logan knows the score. It was hot, no-strings sex, and that’s it.” Yeah, sure it was.
Natalie pursed her lips and drained her lukewarm tea. “You two talked about this and agreed to it?”
Staring intently at the hand-painted flowers on her coffee mug, Miranda avoided her sister’s surely skeptical gaze. “Not in so many words.”
“Uh-huh.” Natalie stood up, took her dishes to the sink, and flipped on the water. “This isn’t going to blow up in your face at all.”
Like a four-year-old caught with her hand stuffed in the cookie jar, Miranda wanted to ignore the whole situation. “Will you just give me a ride to Fix ’Er Up so I can pick up my car without lecturing me the entire way?”
“Lecture?” Natalie turned and grinned. “I never lecture.”
The Fix ’Er Up Auto Repair and Body Shop sat a few miles outside of town on Highway Forty-Eight, a stucco monument to rebuilt carburetors and oil changes. Hud Bowden had gone straight from the Salvation High School football field to the garage bay right after graduation. Today, he had his head under the hood of a cherry red Ford Thunderbird. Miranda would have admired the view more, if it wasn’t for the fact that, even after a shower, she could still smell Logan’s woodsy cologne in her hair.
“Hey, Hud.”
The former linebacker straightened up, wiping away the black grime from his hands with a rag. He didn’t glare at Miranda and her sister, but his look wasn’t exactly welcoming either. “Sounds like you had an eventful evening last night.”
Her feet froze to the garage’s concrete floor, and her toes curled up in her ballet flats. “What do you mean?” She coughed to cover the embarrassed squeak in her voice.
“It’s not every day that someone in town makes the mayor blow his top and has her tires slashed.” He cocked his head. “Why, what did you think I meant?”