by E. E. Burke
No. He’d given Jen a promise not to interfere. He wouldn’t go back on his word.
He and Troy drank their beers, lapsing into silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like what he’d felt driving Jen home the other night. He hadn’t known what to say to her. She made it clear she didn’t welcome his questions or his concern, and acted like she was too strong to need it.
That’s what it was—an act. The few times she’d let down her guard, he’d gotten glimpses of her uncertainty and vulnerability. Enough to know she needed caring for more than she wanted to admit. That was the real Jen, the woman he felt drawn to.
Or maybe his soft heart was messing with his hard head. Something his brothers had warned him about. Something he usually guarded more carefully than he had over the past several days.
He took another long drink. Couldn’t help glancing at the phone, but he didn’t pick it up, and he damn sure wouldn’t obsess over it anymore. He would enjoy the evening and the time he had left with Troy and Celeste. If Jen called, she could wait.
His phone twanged the “Watermelon Crawl.” He’d set the ring tone for Jen’s number after seeing her dance. Damn, she was a natural, and her bold little move when she backed up to him and wiggled her ass had turned him on something fierce.
Troy laughed. “Great ring tone.”
The riff started over. He better not answer too fast. She’d think he was desperate.
But if he waited too long, she might hang up, and he wasn’t certain she would leave a voicemail. He grabbed the phone. “Hey, Jen—”
“Logan! You have to get over here. Now!” Her shout damn near pierced his eardrum.
He shot to his feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Come quick.” She wasn’t screaming anymore. Her voice trembled with anxiety, verging on panic, making his heart pound. Whatever the hell was going on, he couldn’t stand here and chat with her about it. For all he knew, she’d cut herself and was bleeding or something.
“On my way.” He stuffed the cell phone into his back pocket and took off at a run, not bothering to explain. There wasn’t time. If he needed to call 911, he had his phone.
Logan raced around the shrubs he’d trimmed two days ago. Her gate was open, so he let himself in the back yard and thundered across the patio to the sliding glass doors. The dog’s wild barking sent a rush of adrenaline through him.
Grabbing the outside handle, he tried the door. Locked, of course. He hammered his hand on the glass. He’d use a chair to break it if he had to.
On the other side of the door, Freckles raced back and forth, yapping like crazy, although her tail wagged, whatever that meant. She always wagged her tail, even when she sounded like she’d bite your head off.
Jen appeared, dressed in a big sweatshirt, bare legs, looking a little sleepy, like she’d just woken up, or she was groggy, or drugged. Shit, an overdose?
She pulled the security pin from the top of the door, then snapped open the lock.
Logan dragged the door open and rushed inside. He pulled her into an embrace. “I’m here, baby. It’s all right.”
His brain caught up with the wild emotion careening through him and cautioned him to handle her with care. She could be hurt. He kept hold of her arms, in case she might be weak, and checked her over. Didn’t look injured. A flushed face could mean fever.
“What’s wrong?” His voice came out sharp due to his concern.
Her astonished gaze fell from his face to his chest. “You...you don’t have a shirt on.”
He’d forgotten to grab it, and it was soaked with sweat anyway. “You told me to hurry.”
The dog stopped barking and racing around in circles and began sniffing at his leg. Freckles displayed no sign of distress.
Jen’s cheeks were bright, though not unnaturally rosy. No bloody knives lying around, no glass on the floor, nothing broken as far he could see.
“Is there some reason you called me in a panic?”
She swallowed hard before nodding.
“Do I have time to take my shoes off? They’re muddy.” His shorts were dirty too. But he didn’t think she’d appreciate it if he shucked them along with his shoes.
She waited long enough for him to take off his sneakers. Then she grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”
“Yes, ma’am...” He allowed her to guide him through the hallway toward the stairs. Her palm felt so smooth, incredibly soft. Was the rest of her skin like that? She didn’t seem willing to stop long enough for him to find out.
Logan dragged his mind back to solving the mystery that had put her in such a panic. “Is your toilet overflowing?”
“No, I didn’t call you over here to fix my toilet.” Her voice had a wry edge to it.
She started up the steps to the second floor.
Well, hell. She hadn’t called him over here for no reason. Nor could he believe she was so eager to have sex with him she’d phoned in a panic—after waiting three days.
He stood at the base of the stairs, riveted by the sight of her swaying backside, then ran to catch up. She still hadn’t explained why she’d panicked. However, it appeared that whatever had unnerved her wasn’t life threatening.
Logan’s tension drained enough he could focus on something other than impending doom. Two large works of art on the stairway wall caught his attention. Vivid landscapes with abstract, oversized flowers, painted on glass panes of what looked like old windows. “I like these paintings. Where’d you get them?”
“My friend is an artist. I love her work and those are my favorite pieces. She goes to estate sales and antique shops and scours abandoned buildings to find old windows. I’m not sure how she makes the colors so vivid, unless it has something to do with how she paints on the back of the glass.”
The stairs ended at a landing that overlooked a three-story marbled entryway lit by a wrought-iron chandelier. A loud tick-tock from a grandfather clock echoed in the cavernous space. “You’ve got a beautiful home, and a nice blend of modern and antiques.”
“Eclectic.”
“Right. The house I grew up in looks like the set of Bonanza.”
“Is that what you like? Western décor?”
“Some of it, I guess. But it’s not my house. If I were to build, I’d make it different.”
“How different?”
“Haven’t really thought about it. I’ve been focused on finishing vet school. Expect I’ll settle somewhere near the ranch. Details beyond that are fuzzy.”
“I’ve had my future planned out from the time I was twelve.”
“Twelve?” He released a laugh, amused, but not really surprised. “At that age, I wasn’t thinking past what I wanted to eat for dinner.”
She pushed open a door and he followed her into a huge bedroom. Light shone through oversized windows with decorative leaded glass. He barely saw what else was in the room as his gaze fixed on the bed.
Blankets and sheets were thrown back. Pillows lay scattered as if she’d just crawled out of bed. Sleeping in on a day off?
She whirled around and went for the waistband of his shorts. She’d unbuttoned the first button before he snapped out of his shock.
His hands went to hers, enveloping them, stopping her frantic tearing at his buttons. God almighty, she’d lost her mind. “Jen, what the hell—?”
She looked up, tossing loose dark hair out of her eyes. Her hands were trembling. “We-we have to do this now.”
“That’s why you called me over here like the house was on fire?”
“It’s the right time. I’m ovulating, and there’s a only a short window of opportunity.”
“Okay, I get the technical stuff.” He drew her to him and slipped his arms around her waist. God knows, he’d been eager for this, and based on how his dick was reacting to her pawing, he’d have no problem doing it as fast as she wanted. But one look at her wild expression and the fear in her eyes told him she wasn’t anywhere near ready. Not to mention, he stunk to high heaven.
/> “We can afford to take a little time, you know, to set the mood. Let me wash off. I’ve been working in the yard. I’m sweaty and dirty.”
She gripped his upper arms tight, her expression strained. “We don’t have much time. Besides, this isn’t about getting into the mood. I just need you to...to impregnate me.”
Her blunt demand cooled the heated blood pulsing through his veins.
A stud, that’s all he was to her, and he had damn sure better remember it.
“Fine, I’ll do the honors—after I get a quick shower.”
“No, no, there isn’t time. We need to do this.” She backed away from him, practically yelling. That, more than anything, told him she wasn’t ready. Her way of dealing with fear was to put her head down and batter her way through the obstacle like a Billy goat. If he did her bidding, it wouldn’t hurt him, but it would sure as hell hurt her.
He responded in a controlled tone. “Jen, I need to be clean, and you...you need to calm down.”
The flush on her face deepened. “I am calm.”
Logan couldn’t help smiling at her outright lie. “No, you’re not. You’re anxious and scared.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “And you’re being a patronizing asshole.”
“Maybe. But this patronizing asshole doesn’t want to hurt you. If you aren’t ready for me, I will.”
Jen marched to the bedside table and picked up a tube. “Lubricating gel.”
Of all the... Damn if she didn’t confuse him one minute and make him laugh the next. “You got this all planned out, haven’t you?”
“What do you think?”
This was the same woman who had her life charted from the age of twelve. She’d probably printed out instructions on intercourse.
“I think I need a shower.” He strode through the doorway that led into the master bathroom and stripped off his clothes before heading into a walk-in shower. He wasn’t getting into bed with her stinking so bad he offended himself. Turning the knob, he waited until the water warmed, then stood beneath the rainfall, found the soap and washed.
A shower would cool him off. He refused to be rushed. Their deal was that she would go to bed with him and they’d make a baby the old-fashioned way. That didn’t mean wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.
He would take whatever enjoyment he could take, and give her as much pleasure as she’d let him, and their time together, however brief, wouldn’t be a bad memory for either of them.
Chapter 7
Logan Hardt had the most amazing ass. His buttocks were well muscled, slightly concave on each side, but with enough fullness to fill out his jeans. She’d followed him, angry, and yes, scared and a little bewildered, as he’d marched into her master bathroom, dropped his shorts and briefs, and strolled into her shower. The incredible sight of his bare backside rendered her speechless.
She stepped away from the shower’s entrance. Spying on him while he showered seemed so...voyeuristic. She hadn’t planned on studying him, and she didn’t want him to study her. The only way she’d get through this would be to make it quick. If the foreplay dragged on, her heart would give out.
Her hand hovered at chest level before she lifted it, still shaking, to push her hair away from her face. Now what? She could undress and wait under the sheets and feel stupid. Or she could sit on the bed and wait for him to get out of the shower, then undress and slip under the sheets. Or, she could run away. That’s what her body was primed to do. The level of epinephrine in her bloodstream had to be off the charts, considering her rapid heartbeat.
Logan was concerned about being sweaty. She could tell he’d been working, but she didn’t think he smelled bad. He certainly didn’t revolt her.
She lifted an arm, sniffed, didn’t smell anything. But just in case. She grabbed a bottle of Vera Wang, pulled open the collar of her sweatshirt and spritzed her chest. Not too much. He might start sneezing.
Oh God, what if he was allergic to perfume?
The shower went off.
Jen’s heart jumped. She turned in time to see Logan emerge from the shower, naked and dripping wet. She stared at his magnificent body for what seemed like, oh, at least a full minute, before he broke the trance by wrapping a towel around his waist.
Too late, his image was etched in her mind.
He had the washboard abs that the guys at the gym worked so hard to get. She found the light sprinkling of brown hair on his chest alluring. He’d been semi-aroused when he walked out of the shower, and the towel bulged over what appeared to be a growing erection.
She jerked her eyes upward and met his gaze.
Amusement gleamed in the blue depths. “Do I pass inspection?”
Heat rushed to her face. Was that what he thought she was doing? Inspecting him?
“You fit my requirements,” she mumbled. What a stupid thing to say. She walked into the bedroom before she made an even bigger fool of herself. Trembling. Honest to God, trembling, and not with fear or even hyper-anxiety. This quivering had a hot, urgent quality that she recognized as arousal.
She hadn’t thought she would be so affected. Anxious, yes, attracted to him, of course, but totally turned on? This was something new. She hadn’t been able, or willing, to give in to sexual attraction before because she was so uptight around men. Even the two men she’d dated the longest. Maybe it was different with Logan because she already knew he would be leaving. There was freedom in knowing she didn’t have to face him again if he ended up disappointed.
He put his hands on her shoulders and she tensed, out of habit more than as a reaction to his touch, which didn’t make her freeze up or want to run away. When he massaged the tight muscles in her shoulders and neck, she relaxed.
She still trembled though. Had she been wearing boots, she would be shaking in them. She could pretend she wasn’t afraid, but she was a coward and she knew it, and she suspected he knew it too.
After a moment, he turned her to face him. His eyes met hers and this time there was no amusement in them. “Let’s not make this about requirements. Put aside all that for a little while and let’s just be me and you, Logan and Jen, a man and woman who want each other.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.” She hated how her voice wavered. It made her feel more vulnerable than she already felt, which was a lot, and she hadn’t even taken her clothes off yet. She couldn’t afford to want him, because want could be dangerous. Want could turn into need. Need could be rejected.
“Forget the deal. For now.” He reached up, tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek with his palm, sending warm honey flowing through her veins.
Her fluttering pulse slowed, her breathing slowed, as did her heartbeat. Even time seemed to slow down, allowing her to focus on the moment. She put her hand over his, holding his palm against her face, not wanting to break the connection, afraid the spell would end and fear would rush back in.
Dipping his head, he touched her lips and she inhaled his warm breath on a gasp.
Suddenly, kissing him was all she could think about.
Eager to return his kiss, she leaned into it as he smoothed his thumb over her cheek in an affirming caress, a tender gesture that gave her courage. The defenses she’d spent half a lifetime building began to crumble.
When his arms went around her, she melted against him, sinking into his warmth and into his strength. With Logan, she felt safe. Something she hadn’t felt in such a long time. How ironic that she should be so secure despite the uncertainty of the situation.
She allowed him to pull her forward until she was pressed against him from breast to hips. He moved his hands down her back, shaping her curves, her hips and buttocks. He touched her with confidence, like a man who knew what he wanted. She had no idea what to do next, so she would follow his lead, even though she’d never given any man that much trust, fearing what might happen. Pain. Humiliation. Rejection.
Logan wouldn’t reject her because she would send him away first. She’d set
the ground rules, and he’d accepted them. For the first time, maybe the only time, she could put her fears aside and enjoy being with a man. This man.
She wound her arms around his neck and gave herself to the kiss.
Hesitant at first, she soon grew bolder, running her hands over his shoulders, finding his lean, corded arms endlessly fascinating. She traced her fingers over the defined muscles in his back. Touching him telegraphed pleasure to some primitive part of her brain.
When she came to where the edge of the towel wrapped his waist, she hesitated. He didn’t. He dragged it out of her way and let her continue her exploration. Downward, over those firm buttocks she’d seen. Touching his butt was even better than looking at it.
He grasped the hem of her sweatshirt and drew back long enough to pull it over her head.
She hadn’t bothered to put on a bra, having rolled out of bed only a few moments before she’d called him. Instinctively, she raised her arms to cover herself.
Logan grasped her wrists and gently pulled her arms away, then raked her with a hot look that branded her.
She stared at his full-on erection. Good God, he was huge. How would it fit...?
He dragged her back to him, bending to kiss her again, this time open-mouthed and demanding. Her questions and doubts, her frantic thoughts, floated away like dandelion fluff in a breeze. The only thing she could focus on were the physical sensations—the feel of his lips and tongue, where his heated skin touched hers, his arousal pressed against her stomach, hot and hard. Thinking about what he would do with it made her a little dizzy.
She couldn’t let her mind go there yet, or she would invite fear back into the mix, and she was enjoying this pleasurable prelude. Now wasn’t the time for insecurity and uncertainty. That would come later, and with it, the gnawing emotional hunger that seemed impossible to satisfy. Logan couldn’t fix her. He couldn’t fill the emptiness. But his touch could make it go away for a little while.
He continued to kiss her as he moved them both to the bed, pressing her down onto the rumpled sheets, pausing only long enough to hook her lacy panties with his fingers and tug them off. Then he came over her, rising up to trail kisses from the side of her mouth along her jawline and down her neck. He traced her collarbone with his lips. All the while, his hands skimmed her body, worshiping. That was the only word she could come up with to describe how he touched her.