And she was trying to catch Logan, not scare him off.
When she returned to the kitchen, she found Logan in the midst of stealing a chocolate chip cookie from her cooling rack. He swung around when she entered, the cookie poised halfway to his mouth, a look of comic sheepishness on his handsome face.
“That’s dessert, you know,” she informed him tartly, depositing the bassinette on the floor by the kitchen table.
“Hmm.” A sexy grin curved his lips. “I was hoping you were dessert.”
Simple words, but they stole her breath, made her heart beat in triple time. Shameless images filled her mind. “My doctor says it’s a go, so maybe I can arrange that,” she said, breathless.
“Oh I can definitely arrange that.” Logan took a bite of the cookie, closing his eyes in culinary-induced ecstasy. “Christ, Claire, you make the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. How do you do it? I could eat nothing but these for the rest of my life and never get tired of them.”
She laughed. “Of course, you might not be able to fit through doors anymore.”
He joined in her laughter, popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “Julie, your mommy makes the best cookies in the world.” Swallowing the cookie, he continued to address his daughter in a serious tone. “You know, I would let you taste it, but you don’t have any teeth yet. I guess that means Daddy will just have to eat them all.”
“After Daddy eats the dinner Mommy spent all afternoon preparing,” Claire said pointedly.
“After that,” he agreed, leaning down to drop a kiss on Julie’s cheek. “We would hate to disappoint Mommy.” Crossing the room, he gently placed their daughter into her bassinette.
Julie immediately began making noises of protest.
“If we want to eat at all, we’ll have to hurry,” Claire said, rushing to the oven to remove the roasting pan containing her apple cider chicken. She recognized the sound Julie was currently making as the precursor to the deafening Wail of Hunger. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that she would have about half an hour before Julie would demand to be fed. She closed the oven door with her knee as she hefted the roasting pan into the air.
“Can I help you with anything?” Logan asked solicitously. His voice was right behind her. She jumped and set the roasting pan on the stovetop with more force than necessary.
Logan’s hands settled on her waist and he pulled her back against his body. She could feel every tantalizing inch of his hardness against her. Including his arousal. He pressed his face into her neck and kissed the spot behind her ear he knew drove her wild. His hot breath fanned against her sensitized skin. She turned her face and their lips met.
Before she even realized it, he spun her in his arms and their bodies were flush in earnest. The kiss deepened, intensified. It struck her that she should have done this weeks ago. She should have taken a chance and showed him how she really felt. A relationship between the two of them would either work or it wouldn’t but she would never know for certain unless she was completely honest with him. It was time to tell Logan that she loved him.
“Mmm.” His arms tightened around her. “You taste delicious.”
She smiled against his lips. “You taste like chocolate chip cookie.”
“Also delicious,” he murmured.
“Mmm.” It was Claire’s turn for a nonverbal response. Being in Logan’s arms, with his skillful lips on hers, was sweet.
“I love your vanilla perfume,” he whispered, kissing her neck again. “It makes me want to lick every inch of your skin.”
“That sounds promising.”
He looked up at her, his eyes serious. “Thank you. This birthday dinner is the best gift anyone could have given me.”
I love you, she wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but it stuck before she could release it.
“Why don’t we eat?” she suggested instead, extricating herself from his arms.
Logan stowed the last dirty dinner dish inside the dishwasher and closed it with a barely audible click. Sighing, he began rummaging through the all but empty cabinets for some plastic wrap for the leftovers. By his fourth cabinet, he was more than just a tad annoyed. By the eighth cabinet, he was shoving things around and closing doors with a bit more force than necessary. By the tenth cabinet, he’d finally located the elusive plastic wrap. He turned to the kitchen table, his thoughts churning restlessly.
His mind was made up, had been ever since he’d walked into the kitchen and seen the place settings. It was now or never. Derek had given him a pep talk before he’d left the house, which hadn’t really made sense at the time, but did now. He must have been in on Claire’s birthday surprise. Logan didn’t know that he liked the idea of Claire conspiring with Derek, but given the results, he thought it wise not to complain. Besides, Derek was right. Now-or-never time had definitely arrived. Since Claire’s father had given him a similar, though slightly more threatening pep talk at the hospital, Logan had been able to think of little else. He lived for the time he spent with Claire and Julie in the evenings, which never seemed to be enough. He hadn’t wanted her to move out of his house, but the only way to keep her from doing so was to flex his custodial muscles. And that would have caused an impregnable rift between them.
So he had let her pack up his daughter and move back here, to her sister’s old house. It was a lovely old house, Logan thought now as he prowled around the kitchen. But it wasn’t home. There was a reason why all the cabinets were virtually empty. Looking at the spartanly furnished but clean kitchen, he knew he didn’t want to spend the next eighteen years of his life making evening visits here. It sure as hell wasn’t where Claire and Julie belonged. He wanted Claire and Julie with him, under the same roof. To achieve that, he had to take action.
He was going to tell Claire he loved her.
He hadn’t prepared a speech. Hell, he hadn’t even known that he was coming here for this. But here he was, cooling his heels in the kitchen while Claire breastfed Julie, and the night seemed perfect. Her gesture had moved him. That she had remembered his birthday at all amazed him, but that she would go to the extreme lengths of cooking him a surprise dinner floored him.
It also gave him hope. Even if she didn’t return his love, Claire still must harbor some sort of warm feelings for him. He could discern from the events of the evening that she still desired him, at any rate.
The dinner they’d shared had been exquisite. Claire was a talented chef and the chicken had been delicious. Naturally, the best part was simply being with his family and knowing that Claire wanted him there, in her life, in their daughter’s life. Just the idea of he, Claire, and Julie as a family made his gut clench and his eyes burn. For so long, he had wanted to belong to a family, first as a foster kid no one wanted, later as a man leading a lonely life. No, he’d never thought of himself as a family man before. But he liked the idea of waking up every morning next to Claire, raising Julie together, first steps, high chairs, dolls, kindergarten, soccer games.
He wanted it all, forever. He wanted Claire in his life forever. Now he was seeking a more official role.
Husband.
He’d proposed to her before and it had been off the cuff, totally unprepared, totally unromantic. And she had refused. Here he was again, preparing to do the same thing. He didn’t have a ring, of course, which put a kink in his plans, but he was hoping that Claire would overlook that minor flaw. After all, his first proposal had also been sans ring. Then again, the first proposal had been met with a sound refusal.
Damn it.
By the time Claire reappeared, Logan was pacing the kitchen, nearly insane with an attack of nerves. She looked mussed. The sexy dress was wrinkled from sitting so long and her hair was tucked behind her ears, a habit that asserted itself whenever she was preoccupied. Heat seared through him. God, but she was beautiful, with her lush lips and petite but curvy body. Her legs were bare and sleek, naked to mid-thigh, and his hands were itching to touch them.
A soft
smile curved her lips. “Julie’s sleeping in her bassinette upstairs in my bedroom.” She deposited a baby monitor on the kitchen table.
“Do you know how badly I’ve been wanting to run my hands from your ankles to your thighs?” he asked, his voice thick. It wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, but the sight of her was like a blow to his gut. Each time he saw her, he wanted her more.
She stopped midstride, eyes widening, pupils dilating.
He took it as a sign of encouragement. He closed the space between them, her legs brushed against his pants. Drawing his arm around her waist, he pulled her flush against him, leaving his other hand free to enjoy a lazy perusal of her upper thigh. Her sharp intake of breath was like the most potent aphrodisiac.
“I’ve been wanting to brush my fingers across your skin,” he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips. “To see if it feels as smooth as it looks.” His hand crept upward, along the outer portion of her left thigh, higher until his fingers hooked in the thin elastic band of her underwear.
“Logan,” she whispered, half protest, half plea. She licked her shiny, cherry-red lips.
He couldn’t resist tasting them. As his mouth swooped down on hers, he smelled vanilla. “Is your lip gloss vanilla flavored?” he asked, his mouth half an inch from hers.
She smiled. “Yes.”
Logan groaned. “You know I’m just going to have to lick it off.”
Claire brushed her lips against his. “Lick away.”
Another groan sounded deep in his throat as a freight train of lust slammed into him. “If you insist.” His best intentions faded. Claire arched against him as his hand slid to her bottom, cupping it beneath her skirt. Only a flimsy layer of lace separated his hand from her bare skin.
He ran his tongue over the lush curve of her lower lip, tasting the sweetness of vanilla on his tongue. “Mmm. Delicious.”
Claire’s fingers were on the buttons of his shirt, frantically tearing at them. Their kiss deepened, grew more insistent, tongues mingling in frenetic, spiraling heat. Logan heard the tiny plink plink of his buttons raining to the floor. His shirt was gone in a millisecond. He shrugged out of it as Claire pulled it from his arms, their kiss never ending. When her hands landed on his bare chest in teasing, caressing circles, Logan swore he was about to jump out of his skin.
“I love what you do to me,” he growled into her mouth.
“Take my dress off,” she whispered.
Logan’s right hand was still enjoying the delicious curve of her bottom, so he slid his left hand up over the small of her back, his fingers searching for the ridge of a zipper. He felt only the soft fabric of her dress. Frustrated, he pressed her closer to him, her pliable body curving naturally into his.
“Can’t find the damn zipper,” he muttered between kisses.
Claire’s fingers were working on his zipper at the moment, and making much better progress. “On the side,” she ordered, breathless.
His pants slid down and he kicked them away along with his shoes and socks. With his left hand, he searched the side of her dress for the zipper and still came up with nothing. “Damn it.” He pulled back for a moment to look down at her. “Where the hell is it?”
A sultry smile curved her kiss-swollen lips. “Other side.”
Before he could respond, she shocked him by grabbing his ass to pull him even more tightly against her. She planted her lips back on his. Logan reluctantly pulled his right hand away from its exploration of her bottom to feel for the elusive zipper. Finally, he was gratified by the cool ridge of metal and the zing of its teeth scraping against each other. He peeled her dress from her and it fell to the floor in a swish of black fabric and soft, sexy sound.
He tore his lips from hers to look down at her and immediately felt the blood rush straight to his groin. Her breasts were incredibly full and lush, straining above a scarlet lace bra. A satin bow nestled between them that matched the one on her left hip. Her underwear was sexy as hell and barely there, in the same red lace. The slinky heels on her feet completed the ensemble.
“You look like a present I’m about to unwrap,” he muttered.
The look she gave him almost lit him on fire. “That’s the point.”
He pulled her to him and gave her a fierce, hungry kiss before coming up for air. If they didn’t stop right now, there was no way in hell they would make it to her bedroom. “Bed?”
Claire shook her head. “Not going to make it. Are you going to unwrap me, or are you waiting for Christmas?”
He grinned, reaching for the bow between her breasts first. One swift tug and the bra fell apart, her breasts springing free. He flicked it away and touched her. A low moan slipped from her lips as he ran his thumbs across her nipples. Logan crushed her lips beneath his, desperate with need.
She yanked his briefs down and he pulled the second bow. They were both naked, skin against skin. Without ending their kiss, he pressed her backward, until she was trapped between him and the wall at her back. This was not going to be a slow, leisurely seduction. It had been far too long since they had been together and they wanted one another too much to care.
Logan settled his hands on Claire’s waist and lifted her, lowering her until he was sliding inside her. The burst of hot sensation made his head whirl. “Put your legs around my waist,” he ordered her in a guttural growl.
She did, taking him deeper, and they began a quick, frenzied rhythm that had them both shattering before too long. They were panting, every inch of their bodies sealed together. Logan pressed a kiss to her lips, then another to the corner of her mouth. The words were on the tip of his tongue. I love you. Three little words that seemed so simple, so easy to say. Followed by two more. Marry me.
He couldn’t. His voice choked in his throat.
Kissing her again, he breathed deeply of her sweet vanilla scent, and said the words in his mind instead. I love you.
“Wake up, sweetheart.”
Claire had been in the midst of a dream involving copious amounts of chocolate bonbons and Logan. A steady, familiar voice brought her back to the surface of reality. She kept her eyes pressed tightly closed against the sunlight streaming in a window somewhere. Hadn’t she closed the curtain last night before changing for bed? If she’d forgotten, she’d inadvertently given the neighbors an unexpected peep show.
“Claire.”
Damn that insistent voice, she thought, feeling equal parts groggy and grouchy from one too many nighttime feedings. Who was it, anyway? It sounded like Logan, but how could that be?
It was Logan.
Her sleep-dimmed mind finally began clearing itself of the nighttime cobwebs and she pried her eyes open. Memories, skin-tingling memories, shot through her mind. Ah yes. Last night.
He hovered over her, looking unfairly handsome and sexy this early in the morning. And also as though he’d indulged in a bath. His hair was damp.
“Morning, Claire,” he drawled, giving her a slow, I-have-you-exactly-where-I-want-you smile.
“Mmm.” Stretching like a cat, she stifled a yawn, never taking her eyes from him. She couldn’t even if she wanted to, not really. “You’re annoyingly cheerful this morning.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “Your fault.”
She kissed him back, stifling the niggling voice inside her head that reminded her she probably had morning breath. “Why is your being annoying my fault?”
Logan sat down on the bed next to her, curling his arm easily around her shoulder. “Not the annoying part,” he said pointedly. “The cheerful part. And it’s your fault because you made me a very happy man last night.”
Last night had been, well, the word incredible came to mind, but it seemed so flat and inadequate. After the kitchen, they had moved to the bedroom and had spent the night making love until being interrupted by Julie around her feeding time. Claire actually felt a blush stealing across her cheeks. God, he made her blush like a teenager. How did he manage to do it? “As I recall, you were a willing participant.
”
His grin widened and he leaned down to kiss her again. “Most willing.”
Somehow, her hands found their way into his hair, and when he would have pulled away, she held him to her. Logan’s kisses had become something of an addiction for her, much like the man himself, an addiction she wholeheartedly wanted to indulge.
“Claire,” he murmured against her lips, his voice sounding oddly gruff.
She continued kissing him, her tongue enjoying a leisurely exploration of the seam of his lips. Conversation didn’t hold nearly as much appeal for her as Logan himself did at the moment.
But Logan was persistent. He pulled back, still close enough to be a temptation. “I think we should talk.”
Uh-oh. Those words were invariably followed by something she didn’t want to hear. Claire pulled his head back down to hers for another kiss, deciding that distraction was likely the optimal tactic. “Let’s not and pretend we did.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to distract me?”
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?” Claire adored his sulky lips, couldn’t get enough of them. It seemed that she had only succeeded in distracting herself.
Logan pressed a kiss to her forehead before straightening. “Get dressed, sweetheart. I have breakfast waiting for you downstairs.”
“You made me breakfast?” Warmth blossomed in her chest and seeped through her.
He nodded, looking suddenly like a little boy who was very proud of himself. “Waffles. I found a waffle maker in one of your cabinets.”
Waffles. Claire felt as if she wanted to cry, and just over something as trifling as waffles. It was like her pregnancy all over again. That Logan had taken the time to make her breakfast at all, let alone waffles from scratch, reinforced his wonderfulness in her mind.
“You made me waffles,” she repeated stupidly.
“You don’t like waffles?” he teased her with a devastating grin.
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 26