by Nina Croft
She balked when she realized where they were going, digging in her heels. “No. I want to dance.”
“Later.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Now. And after that I want tequila. Lots of tequila.”
The small dance floor was crammed. It would be an excuse to hold her close, which he needed because, the fact was, she was drunk, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of that. But surely dancing was allowed within his somewhat hazy code of ethics.
“Okay, one dance.” The music was slow, and he pulled her to him. Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck and plastered her body against his. He slipped his hands beneath her jacket and dragged her even closer. They didn’t dance, just swayed to the music, and for a brief time he shut himself off and stopped thinking, accepting the feeling of rightness. The restlessness that had been plaguing him fell away, and he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and breathed in the scent of her hair…lemons and flowers.
Her breasts were pressed against his chest and her head tucked into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He went still as she kissed him, nuzzling his throat, and his cock stiffened. She must have felt it because she raised her head and peered up at him through her lashes. Her eyes were dark blue, a flush stained her cheeks, and she slowly licked her lips.
“Have you any more fantasies, Logan?”
He groaned. Maybe it was time to get her off the dance floor. “Why don’t we go to my office, and I’ll tell you all about them.”
She flashed him a huge smile. “Excellent idea.”
He spoke to one of the waitresses and ordered coffee in his office before ushering Abby out in front of him. This time she went without a fight. She flung herself on the leather sofa and kicked off her shoes, reached up behind her and pulled the remaining pins from her hair so it fell in a messy tangle down her back. His Ms. Prim and Perfect was coming undone in front of him. She wriggled out of her jacket and tossed it behind her, then patted the seat beside her. “Come and join me.”
“I’ll wait for the coffee.”
“You don’t want me anymore.” She sounded woebegone.
“Not true. But you’re drunk and it would be taking advantage.”
She pouted. “I’m not that drunk. I’ll show you.” She got up, took a step, wobbled, and sat down again. “Oh.”
“See? Drunk.”
“I don’t mind if you take advantage.”
“You would tomorrow.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t. But it’s sweet—you’re worried I won’t respect you in the morning.”
A knock sounded on the door and he went and collected the tray of coffee, kicking the door closed behind him. He brought the tray back, put it on the table, and sat down in the opposite corner of the couch. After pouring for them both, he handed her one, wrapping her fingers firmly around the mug. “Drink.”
“Okay, maybe I am a little drunk. But I like it.”
“Why are you drunk?”
She heaved her shoulders in a huge shrug. “Crap day.”
“What happened? Is Jenny okay?”
“She’s fine. I’d hardly be out getting drunk if she wasn’t.”
He exhaled. “No, of course not.”
“She’s at my mum’s. Actually, my mum and dad’s.”
“So what went wrong today?”
She pushed out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “I didn’t get my job. I wanted to be a detective. I’ve always wanted to be a detective, and they said I couldn’t.”
“You can’t?”
She shook her head and swayed. “They said I needed to be more circumspect in my private life. But I’m Logan McCabe’s fantasy girl, and apparently that’s not very circumspect at all.”
Shit. She was going to hold him responsible for this, and his good mood crashed. He’d fucked this up for her. He’d no doubt she would have made detective if he hadn’t been on the scene.
“I don’t blame you,” she said as if reading his mind. She put her mug down and shuffled along the sofa until she was next to him then patted his arm. “I blame them. They’re hypocrites and…and stupid people.”
He chuckled. Stroking her hair back from her face, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, the skin soft beneath his touch. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your job. But maybe you were right. I’m not good enough for you.”
“No, no, no.” She leaned into him heavily. “It’s me who’s not good enough. You’re perfect. Just perfect. If you weren’t so perfect, I could be your fantasy girl, and when you’ve run out of fantasies, we could say good-bye and it wouldn’t hurt. But you are, so I can’t.”
She wasn’t making a lot of sense. He was as far from perfect as it was possible to be. He’d always been happy with the way he was. Now he wished he could be somehow better for her. Jesus, he was getting maudlin.
He rose to his feet and held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“You look tired. I’ll tuck you up in bed.”
She pursed her lips and thought for a moment before giving a small nod. “Okay.” Her hand slid into his, and he tugged her up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
They were both quiet on the drive, though she turned to him at one point. “This isn’t the way home.”
“You can have a sleepover at mine. I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
He cast her a look, actually she was sobering up fast. “A little bit tipsy.”
“So why can’t you stay at my house?”
“Because Grunt doesn’t like me to stay out all night.”
“Fair enough.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Within seconds, her breathing changed, and she was asleep.
She hardly awoke as he led her to the spare room where she’d slept the last time she was here, but she balked at the door, blinking up at him. “No, I want to sleep in your room. You have to keep an eye on me.”
He didn’t argue. This might be the last chance he got to sleep with her, and while he had no intention of making love, not when she was so out of it, it would be good to hold her.
He didn’t think he’d ever slept with a woman and not had sex. But Abby was different in so many ways.
Taking her hand, he led her down the hallway and into his room. She peered around, blinking slightly, then kicked off her shoes, crawled onto the bed, and burrowed under the bedspread. She punched the pillow once, snuggled her face in it, and was asleep in seconds. Logan stood looking down at her, just her head showing, her dark hair spread across the pillow.
Something warm uncoiled inside him, and for the first time he acknowledged that his feelings for Abby went way beyond friendship. He just wasn’t capable of putting those feelings into words.
Which was probably for the best. Because they made no difference. He was still no good for her.
All the same, he wanted to make things right for her, to go punch those sanctimonious bastards in the face, but that would hardly help. No, the only thing that would help is if he disappeared from her life, and that was impossible with Jenny between them. But he could distance himself. Avoid getting between Abby and her dreams.
What could he offer her? Fuck all, that’s what.
Sighing, he scrubbed at his scalp, trying to shift the dull headache. He was a little puzzled that she didn’t blame him for her not getting the job. That was a total turnaround from what she’d told him the night of Jenny’s sleepover.
And she thought he was perfect. Hah. Perfect for what? He certainly wasn’t perfect boyfriend material. And definitely not perfect husband material. A shudder ran through him at the thought. Look at Rory and his two marriages. The first had been, from all accounts, a trip to hell. His mother and father had lasted until six months after he’d been born, and Rory reckoned it had been the most miserable six months of his life. And while his second marriage had lasted much longer, and neither seemed inclined to seek a divorce, they
spent the absolute minimum of time together, usually with the Atlantic Ocean between them. He’d thought Abby was like Judith, his father’s second wife—uptight, prim and proper. But with Judith it went deep to the core. That was her true self. With Abby, it was a mere surface veneer, covering the real woman. But then, from what he’d gathered, she’d grown up thinking she had to show a perfect front to the world. Sort of the opposite of him, who’d grown up believing he had to show a tough, badass attitude.
Beneath that surface layer was the wild girl of his fantasy, but she was too ingrained in her ways to change now. She’d decided what she wanted in life and no way did he fit in. So he’d have to accept being Jenny’s father and Abby’s friend. From a distance.
Leaving her sleeping, he went downstairs and let Grunt out into the garden for a last sniff around. Once the dog was settled back in his bed, he returned to his room. He shut the door behind him, not quietly, but Abby didn’t move. And she didn’t stir when he went into the bathroom, or when he came out five minutes later, drying himself. He tossed the towel onto the chair by the bed, and slipped under the covers. Her back was to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. His dick was happy to be there, but he ignored the way it stiffened against her ass.
Abby was the sort of woman you had for keeps. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the sort of man who anyone kept long-term. He’d always known that. He’d screw up somehow. Better he backed off now and let her have a good life.
Just let him have this one last night.
He breathed in the warm scent of her, loving the sense of rightness, then closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes.
Chapter Fourteen
She didn’t want to move. Abby woke up disorientated, with no clue where she was or how she’d gotten there. But she was warm, the bed was big and soft, and the body behind her hot and hard.
She snuggled backward, felt the twitch of Logan’s cock against her ass. But she could tell from his breathing that he was still asleep, and she settled again, not wanting to wake him until she remembered how badly she’d behaved.
Peeking under the cover, she discovered she was almost fully dressed, so not that badly. Though as the memory filtered back, she realized it wasn’t so much her not behaving badly as Logan behaving well. He’d been the perfect gentleman, refusing to take advantage of her. However much she’d begged him to. She burrowed her face in the pillow, but it smelled of Logan and only made her feel worse.
She hadn’t wanted to go home the previous evening. When she’d left work, she’d phoned her mum, asked her to take Jenny for the night, and then called up her old school friends and asked if they would meet her. It had been a long time since they’d gotten together. She’d let her old friendships slide. It had been Mel and Sue who had organized her eighteenth birthday celebration, so they were sort of responsible for her relationship with Logan. Though “relationship” was probably the wrong word. Anyway, it had seemed appropriate to be with them last night.
She’d been so angry and frustrated. And for the first time she’d seen things from Logan’s perspective, known what it was like for someone to look at you and make assumptions based on nothing more than what they saw on the surface. She was hanging around with Logan therefore she would make a crap detective. More likely it was because she’d said no to the chief inspector’s advances when she first joined the force, and this was payback. He was using Logan as an excuse, and the others backed him up because that was the way things worked.
Well, she was fed up with it.
She’d always been good and look where that had gotten her. Nowhere.
Most of her life she’d gone out of her way to do the right thing. One little slip. Okay, maybe Logan wasn’t so little—she pushed her ass back against his now truly impressive erection. And he wasn’t really a slip. Whatever his appearance, or his past, Logan McCabe was a good man.
The reason she was running away was not because he was bad, but because she liked him too much. She winced as she remembered telling him last night that he was perfect. Well, perfect except for his total inability or wish to commit. And now, with what she knew of his background, she could understand that. But if he were a different sort of man, she’d be trying to make it work between them, trying to give Jenny a proper family.
Or if it were just her, she’d risk it, take him for however long she could have him, because she had an inkling that what they had was special, and she’d never find it with another man. But she couldn’t risk Jenny being hurt when her heart broke. How had she even let her heart get involved with his?
She sighed, and the hand around her waist tightened. Logan was awake.
“I can almost hear you thinking,” he murmured against her ear.
She wriggled and managed to roll over so she was facing him. He was so beautiful her heart ached. His hair was loose around his shoulders, and this close she could make out the black line around the silver of his eyes. His cheeks were shadowed; he’d be scratchy when he kissed her. If he kissed her. The thought that he might never kiss her again, never touch her, was like a pain lodged deep inside her. But right now they were in bed together, and he was naked. Surely she deserved one last time. Then she would go back to being good.
She had to make it happen. Apart from the arm around her, he wasn’t touching her now, and she needed him to touch her. Just once more and afterward, she’d find the strength to walk away.
He was returning her assessment. “How do you feel?” he asked. “Any aftereffects?”
She presumed he meant a hangover, and she gave a little shake of her head. “Fine. No aftereffects at all.”
“Good. Come here”
The arm around her waist tightened and drew her closer, and at last his lips were on hers—soft at first, questioning. She pressed against him, opening her mouth, sliding her tongue along his lower lip, nipping him with her teeth, pushing inside. The glide of his tongue against hers turned her body hot and heavy, heat pooling in her belly, need pulsing between her thighs. Her clothes chaffed against her sensitive skin. She craved the feel of him naked against her, and she shifted restlessly.
He moved her so she was beneath him, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her again, harder this time, taking control. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” He lifted his head to stare down into her face. His eyes held a question and a need that she guessed equaled her own. One she wouldn’t deny.
“I know. Do you want to do something about that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
He rested on one elbow, shoving the covers off them with his other hand, then studied her for a second, heat flaring in his eyes. He flicked open the buttons on her shirt, spreading the sides to reveal the white lace of her bra. As he stroked his knuckles over her nipples, spikes of pleasure raced along her nerves. He pushed the shirt from her shoulders, and she wriggled out of it, twisting to unfasten her bra.
“Christ, that is so pretty,” he said, lowering his head to take one swollen nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, sucking gently.
His lovemaking was unlike anything that had come before. Or maybe that was it—always before they’d had sex, fantastic mind-blowing sex, but this was so slow and gentle and intense. He moved to the other breast, kissing the tip, stroking his fingers over her until she was squirming beneath him, craving more.
His hand moved lower, opened the button at her waist, lowered the zipper on her pants, and she shoved them down, taking her panties with them and leaving her naked. “Much better.” He cupped a hand between her thighs, and a groan escaped her.
“Is this another fantasy?” she asked.
His gaze lifted to her face. His expression was serious, his usual amusement absent. “No. This is real. This is you and me. Just once, and afterwards I’ll leave you alone. I promise I won’t hold you back. Now, I’m going to make love to you, slowly and completely, and you’ll never forget the feel of me inside you.”
She melted at his words, at the knowledge that
he felt the difference, also. Maybe it was because they both recognized that this was the last time, and that they couldn’t continue. The knowledge freed them to be themselves.
She traced the pattern of the tattoo on his chest, a red and black dragon, beautifully done, curling over his skin, breathing fire over his heart. Then she flicked a finger over the silver nipple ring and gave it a tweak. Moving lower, she trailed her fingers down the sleek, hard muscles of his stomach, twirling them in the silky hair that led to his groin. Finally, she wrapped her hand around the steely, burning length of his erection, squeezed, and heard his breath hitch.
His fingers moved between her thighs, slipping into the wetness, sliding over her sex, teasing her clit, pushing inside her. First one, then two, rubbing her inner walls so that everything tingled, and the desire in her belly tightened, growing heavy.
She needed him inside her, and she shifted restlessly.
“What do you want?” he murmured.
“You. Nothing else.”
He pulled away for a moment while he rolled on a condom, then he moved over her body, balancing on one elbow as his other hand continued to move on her. The head of his cock pushed at the entrance to her body, and she lifted her hips, impaling herself on the thick, hard length of him. He filled her completely, and her eyes fluttered shut as she absorbed all the sensations swirling through her. She’d missed him so much. Missed this. How had she lived without him? How was she going to in the future?
Then he moved inside her, and she shoved everything from her mind. Everything but the feel of him, the slide of his body in hers. She wrapped her arms around him, hands on his ass, fingers digging into the satin skin, urging him closer, pulling him down to her so every inch of him pressed against her. He buried his head in the curve of her neck, kissing her throat, his chest rubbing her sensitive nipples, his hips pumping slowly into her.