by Bella Andre
They were alive. And Logan had nearly died trying to save them both.
Violent shaking started at her chest and worked down her arms and legs, even beneath Logan's heavy weight. Her teeth chattered and sobs built up in her stomach and chest.
She heard herself moan, heard him whisper gentle, encouraging words against her hair, but the sounds came at her through a long, dark tube.
Everything faded to black and she welcomed the darkness.
He'd thrown her too hard. She hadn't had time to prepare for the landing. He was too heavy for her. He shouldn't have crushed her like that, could have broken her ribs when he'd landed on top of her.
But she was alive. And getting her out of the truck had been the only thing that mattered.
It was obvious that they were both moving targets. And odds were it was only a matter of time before the next attack. They had to figure out who was behind all this, and fast. Before they paid with their lives.
His back and legs stung like hell, but he ignored the pain as he shifted to his hands and knees. Gently, he ran his fingertips over Maya's rib cage. Thank God, everything was where it should be. Moving to his feet, he scooped her up in his arms.
Her eyelashes fluttered open, then closed. She moaned again, working to focus on his face as he carried her toward the house, and he was so damn glad to get the chance to look into her beautiful brown eyes again.
Her golden skin was ash-gray and pockmarked with indentations from the gravel. The color had fallen from her lips. No longer rosy, they were pale, sallow.
He wanted to kill the person who'd done this. Coming after him was one thing. But almost killing Maya was unforgivable.
For now, the wildfire--even the investigation--had to fade into the background. Everything else would wait while he tended to Maya.
"You saved my life."
She didn't owe him anything. He didn't want her thanks. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
"Someone tried to kill us," she whispered.
He hugged her closer to him, the heat of her body further reassurance the she was all right. She'd had an enormous shock. And he wasn't ready to let her go yet.
"We don't have to talk about this now."
She tried to wriggle out of his arms while he carried her to his front door and kicked it open. He'd taken care of countless survivors. Her legs would buckle when they hit the floor. Not because she was weak. But because she was human.
Still, he admired her pride. Her strength. Slowly, he let her toes touch the ground, keeping the bulk of her weight in his arms.
She pushed back to stand on her own and her face immediately lost all its color. He pulled her close again.
"Steady, now."
She wrapped her arms around him and gasped. "Logan, you're hurt."
His back had taken the brunt of the damage from the explosion. It was going to hurt like a bitch to clean up.
"I've felt worse. I'll be fine. Right now, you need to focus on getting your equilibrium back."
"No," she said, that determined glint in her eyes, "I need to focus on helping you." Her eyelashes fluttered down. "I can never repay you for saving my life, Logan. Please, let me help you. It's the very least I can do."
He was helpless against her soft plea, against the warmth of her touch. She slowly ran her fingers over his shoulder blades, down his spine to his lower back, making contact with cuts and bruises and a couple of pebbles embedded in his skin.
He bit back a groan of pain. He didn't want her to see his wounds and feel at all responsible for what had happened.
"You're probably still in shock. Go lie down on the couch," he instructed in a rough voice. "I'll be right back."
"I need to help you," she insisted, ignoring his command as her hands found the edge of his T-shirt.
She didn't wait for him to agree as she walked around his body. She sucked in a breath when she saw the damage his back and legs had sustained, but she didn't faint.
"Hold still."
He clenched his teeth as she pulled the sweat-and bloodstained CSI Tahoe shirt away from his battered skin.
"I hope this wasn't David's favorite shirt."
Any other woman would have been babying him, crying over his wounds, maybe even getting sick at the sight of so much blood. But not her. Instead, she was trying to make him smile, just as he had with her. She inherently understood he needed to focus on something else.
It felt like white-hot flames were dancing across his shoulders. "His wife probably staged the explosion to get rid of the damn thing," he said through clenched teeth.
Maya's hand stilled on his back. "You don't deserve this, Logan. Not any of it. I'm sorry."
"It's just a truck," he said, even though he knew she was talking about much more than that. She was apologizing for doing her job and pulling him off duty. She was apologizing for coming into his home to take back samples for the lab.
"I'm sorry about your truck too," she said in a wry tone as she lightly traced the outline of another wound with the tip of her finger. "You're a mess. A complete mess."
She'd barely walked away from an exploding truck. And she was worried about him.
"I'll heal." He looked over his shoulder at her. "The only thing that matters is finding out who did this. And staying alive."
Her eyes met his, full of resolve. "Hotshots always were some of the toughest people I'd ever met." She searched his kitchen cupboards for a dish towel. "You'd better take your pants off too."
He twitched at her words, ready for action despite everything. "I don't think that's a good idea."
She pulled a blue-and-white-striped towel out of a drawer and turned on the tap, waiting several seconds for the water to grow warm. After washing her hands, she picked up a bar of soap and moved behind him again.
"This is probably going to hurt."
He braced himself. "Go for it."
Slowly, gently, she brushed away dirt and pine needles with the pads of her fingers down the length of his back. The soap and water stung like a mother, but her touch was the perfect distraction, far better than any drugs would have been.
He could feel her breath on his spine, the heat of her body warming his back. He wanted to turn around and heal himself with her lips, her curves, her responsive moans of pleasure.
And then her hands stilled against his skin. "You could have died trying to save me." She laid her cheek against his back. "I should have known something was wrong. I should have gotten out as soon as you said the word."
"No," he said, undone by her touch.
He didn't give a crap about control anymore, not when he'd almost lost her. He turned and threaded his bloodstained hands into her hair.
"Don't you dare blame yourself. Not for a goddamned thing."
All he wanted was to forget the image of her sitting in a ticking time bomb and the utter helplessness of watching smoke rise from the engine. He had to taste her, had to confirm that she was flesh and blood and not just a figment of his desperate imagination.
"I lost you once," he said as he lowered his mouth to cover hers. "I won't lose you again."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOGAN'S WORDS muddled together inside Maya's head. She tucked them away for a different time and place, when she could breathe normally, when she could think straight. Right now, all she knew was that she couldn't stop rubbing her hands over his abs, over his pecs, over every square inch of his glorious broad, tanned chest. And that she'd die if she didn't kiss him that very second.
She'd never been so close to death before. His warmth, his heartbeat thudding against hers, the desire she read in his eyes--they all meant life to her. Keeping her distance from Logan and staying safe in her little world suddenly meant nothing. Not when one malicious act had almost robbed her of her chance to feel joy, to feel anything at all. She wanted to sample life's sweetness and allow herself a taste of the pleasure she'd refused for so long.
Their mouths came together and it was a blur of heat and passion. No
one was in charge. Instead, they were both taking something they desperately needed, something they could only find in each other's arms.
He backed her to the kitchen island and she opened her legs to take him in closer. He was so big, so strong, so wonderfully hot as his hips shifted into place between her thighs. Ever since she'd seen him again on top of the mountain, barely twenty-four hours earlier--no, ever since she'd kissed him six months ago--she hadn't stopped wanting him.
The floodgates flew open as she melted in his arms.
She was discovering him all over again, just as he was discovering her. Little things like his scent and the way his stubble rubbed against her cheek sent dangerous emotions slithering in between her ribs, aiming straight for her heart.
His hands were gentle as they cupped her face and she instinctively tilted her face up as his mouth moved from her lips to the concave place between her chin and shoulder bones. Her limbs felt heavy, drugged with his kisses. Her skin buzzed and her nipples were stiff and tight behind her bra as he nipped at her jaw.
Through it all, she worked to hold herself apart from him and deflect the strong emotions threatening to overtake her, the voice in her head that was whispering something about Logan being her soul mate.
No, that was crazy. He couldn't be.
But when he flicked his tongue behind her ear, then pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, her body made the decision for her.
She knew the instant he felt her capitulation, by the tender way he caressed her shoulders and back muscles with deep, soothing motions. And then his fingers moved to her waistband and he pulled at her borrowed cotton T-shirt, dirty from her face-plant into the gravel. She shifted her hips slightly to give him better access, to help him strip her down.
She knew better than to go here with him again. But knowing better didn't change anything. Knowing better couldn't possibly stop the heavy heat in her pelvis or the slick arousal that gathered between her thighs.
Not when she was already so far gone.
Not when being alive meant being with Logan.
He pulled the T-shirt slowly up her body, over her aching breasts. When it was on the floor, she pressed herself against him. The muscles on his beautiful naked chest were tight and corded, the perfect foil to her curves.
"You're beautiful," she whispered, only realizing she'd spoken when she heard the words in the room.
He looked down at her as he ran his thumb over the swell of her breasts. "No," he said, bending his head down to lick the crevasse where her breastbone was, "you're the one who's beautiful, so beautiful you take my breath away."
Her breath caught at his words, his sweet caresses. No one had ever touched her like this, like he wanted her more than he wanted to breathe. No one but Logan.
She found herself losing track of time again, six months fading to nothing since they'd last stood like this.
She tried to right her thoughts, worked to lodge herself back into the impossibilities of the here and now, but when his mouth, hot and wet, came down over her lace-clad breasts, and his hands played against the sensitive skin at the small of her back, urging her to let go, she instinctively arched into his mouth.
Goose bumps covered her skin as he softly raked his teeth over her hard nipple. Logan's fingers were warm and steady on her shoulders as he slid first one bra strap down, then the other. The heat in his eyes intensified as he stared at her naked breasts, and she was powerless to do anything but stand there and let him look his fill. Reverently, he cupped her flesh with both hands and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.
She closed her eyes and a low moan emerged from her throat. Moment by moment, touch by touch, he was seducing her defenses away.
She grabbed at his hips to pull him in closer--oh God, she wanted him closer--to her wetness. Her hips bucked into his thick shaft and he held himself still as she rocked and rubbed and pushed against him, desperate for release.
"That's it," he said, encouraging her madness. He bent his head back down to her chest, pressing her breasts close together so that he could take both stiff peaks into his mouth at the same time.
"You taste so good. So sweet."
He lifted her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs as if she weighed nothing at all. Even as he navigated the steps and the hallway, he nipped at her lips, tasted the sensitive crevasses of her mouth with his tongue.
He was taking her to his bedroom.
To his bed.
Her sex clenched at the thought of being naked beneath Logan. She shivered as he flicked the tip of his tongue against the corner of her mouth, and he smiled against her lips.
"Do you like that?"
She was hesitant to look into his eyes, frightened to give too much of herself away if he saw how much this meant to her. At last, she found her voice.
"Yes."
He captured her mouth again, harder this time, his lips and teeth and tongue telling her just how much he desired her. He pulled back, his blue eyes dark with passion.
"And that?"
She reached a hand up to his mouth and let her thumb and fingertips graze his full, masculine lips. "Yes. So much."
More than he knew.
He sucked her index finger in between his lips and she closed her eyes and relaxed into his strong, muscular arms, drunk from his tongue on her skin. She'd never known fingers could be so sensitive; never had a man spent so much time on her. Other men were only interested in foreplay as a means to an end. With Logan, she could tell that her pleasure pleased him.
He pressed a kiss onto her palm. "Tell me everything you like. Tell me everything that makes you feel good."
She stroked his chin, his stubble deliciously rough. "I don't need to. You already know."
A low growl vibrated in his throat and she watched, mesmerized, as his Adam's apple moved in his tanned throat. She ran her hand down to his neck, then past his collarbone and over his tight band of pectoral muscles. His heartbeat was strong and fast as he continued to hold her without strain, allowing her to explore his body at her leisure.
His nipple grew hard as she leaned closer and pressed a kiss into his shoulder. His skin jumped beneath her lips and, for the first time, she realized just how badly he wanted her; that he was barely holding on to his own self-control.
She swept her tongue out along his collarbone and tasted a faint sheen of clean sweat on his skin. His erection swelled against the side of her hip and his passionate reaction emboldened her further. She grazed a stiff tendon with her teeth, loving the taste of him, his masculine scent. He was just as beautiful beneath her lips as he was to her eyes.
He carried her across the room, laying her beneath him on his bed. "I've wanted to do this for so long." He bent his head down to one breast and suckled her. "And this," he said as he laved the other.
She gasped with pleasure and arched into his mouth. Back and forth, he swirled his tongue on her breasts, kissing her flesh, softly nipping her sensitive skin. Every move he made aroused her, made her grow increasingly damp and desperate to feel the hot, hard length of him pressing into her sex.
"Please," she said, and a moment later his hands were on the waistband of her jeans and he was undoing the zipper and pulling them down her thighs.
"So beautiful," he said in a low voice as he slid her shoes and jeans to the floor. "So damn beautiful."
She waited with delirious anticipation to feel his fingers--or possibly, if she was really lucky, his erection-- between her legs, and was utterly unprepared for warm breath on her heated skin. Her hips bucked into his mouth of their own volition, as utterly out of control as she'd ever been.
She was frightened by this intimacy, yet she craved it too badly to possibly make him stop.
And then his mouth came down fully over her cotton-covered mound and she stopped thinking altogether. She cried out his name as she moved against his lips, his teeth. His tongue found her clitoris through the fabric and waves of satisfaction moved through her, over her.
His tou
ch was turning her inside out, but right now, right in this moment, losing control felt right. Because she felt safe with Logan.
His fingers grazed her hipbones, then stalled. She instantly knew what he was asking. His erection pressed hard against her--he was as crazed with lust as she was--but even then, he waited for her to lead him forward.
She whispered "Yes" to tell him it was all right to continue, that she wanted him to remove her panties, that she was desperate to drop all the remaining barriers between them.
He pressed a kiss to her stomach, just below her belly button, and she sucked in a breath, waiting. And then, slowly, much too slowly, he slid her Love Lake Tahoe panties off her hips.
"I can't wait another second to taste you."
The fabric was still at her thighs and she should have been prepared for the slide of his tongue on her clitoris, for the muscles at the base of her stomach to clench and pull, but she wasn't.
Nothing could have prepared her for Logan.
Slow warmth moved through her as his tongue slipped and slid over her heated flesh. He cupped her butt cheeks to shift her mound higher, closer to his mouth. She wanted to watch this beautiful man touch her so intimately, but her eyes closed as she arched her neck, her body straining toward him. Alternately he sucked at her clit, pulling and dragging on her arousal, then swept his tongue down the slick length of her labia.
Her muscles clenched with need. She wanted all of him, wanted to be filled with his huge, hard shaft. She opened her mouth to beg, to plead, but before she could utter a word, he slipped one thick digit inside of her.
Her breath stopped as she clamped around his finger. With painstaking slowness, he slid it in to the knuckle. She pushed against his hand, trying to take more of him inside. All the while, his tongue kept a steady beat on her clit. He added another finger to his sensual onslaught and she rode his fingers, pressed into his tongue. But instead of letting her crest the peak, he forced her to ride the ridge of pleasure, backing off when she got too close. He slid his fingers in, then out of her slick passage.
Higher and higher she flew, her muscles tightening one by one until she thought she might shatter.
"Please, Logan," she finally begged, even though she was a woman who'd never begged anyone for anything, ever.