Caught Up in the Touch (26 page)
She wore a simple blue tank top, dark wash jeans, and flip-flops. Certainly not something she’d brought with her from Richmond. The simple outfit suited her, made her look younger and softer, and the cool blue highlighted the red glints in her hair.
“You look perfect.”
Her gaze dropped, but not before he noticed her flushed cheeks and pleased but embarrassed smile. The woman was used to accolades on her work, but not her looks. Logan happened to admire the entire package.
He escorted her to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door. Without her heels, he topped her by several inches. While he could admit fucking her on his porch with her sexy high heels still on had been amazing, there was something about looming over her that was a turn-on too. Hell, who was he kidding, everything about the woman did it for him.
Barely controlling the urge to kiss her, he closed her door and took a deep breath. On his walk around to his side, he looked to his crotch and whispered, “Down, boy.”
They hit the blacktop out of town. Night air swirled through the cab from his cracked-open window, the noise negating the need for conversation.
He rolled up his window as soon as he noticed her chafing her arms. She broke the loud silence. “Did you find Scott?”
He gave her a brief rundown of his conversation with both boys, the retelling depressing him. He was good-time Logan. Charming, easygoing, funny … except he didn’t feel like any of that tonight. He wanted to scream his frustration to the woods, wanted to drink enough Jack he was oblivious to the world, wanted someone else to see him. The real him.
He turned onto a narrow dirt road. Branches screeched like fingernails against the sides of the truck. The track was bumpy and washed out—an unmaintained and seldom-used path to the highest ridge in the county.
She braced herself with a hand on the dash and her feet planted wide. Bugs swarmed his headlights, and an endless sea of trees stretched on either side of them. They climbed steep hills, his tires losing traction more than once in mud.
Topping the last rise, the truck’s headlights swept down, illuminating a field overlooking the plains below. A few houselights twinkled in the black carpet. But that’s not what drew him to this place. On clear nights and without the light pollution of town, stars covered the night sky so densely a flashlight was unnecessary.
He parked so they could enjoy the view from the tailgate. The engine sputtered off, and she hopped out. He found a country station and slid the back cab windows open. She stood at the edge of the ridge, wrapped in stars.
His chest tightened, full of conflicting emotions. Anger at the unfairness of the situation, despair he might not ever be allowed to coach again, gratitude she had never doubted him, but mostly a sad inevitability of the future.
He lowered the tailgate and pulled blankets out of his storage boxes. They sat side by side, Jessica staring into the infinity of the universe and Logan staring at her. In a reverential church-quiet whisper, she said, “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” he whispered back.
She glanced over and caught him watching her. She didn’t turn away embarrassed or even flinch. Their gazes melded.
“My scars…” Her swallow was audible.
“Listen, you don’t have to—”
“No, I do. I’m not as strong as you think I am. It’s all a front. Inside, I’m”—she shook her head and looked back to the sky—“When I was a freshman in high school, I started stealing my mom’s Valium. Just every once in a while. Father was pushing Georgetown and Wharton since it was obvious there wouldn’t be a boy to take over Montgomery Industries. Then, it got to more than every once in a while.” She hopped off the tailgate and moved closer to the edge, chafing her arms.
“You got caught.”
She turned her head so her profile was half-illuminated by the night sky. “There was a big set-to. My ma-maw wanted me to move to Georgia with her, my father wanted to send me off to a very strict boarding school.”
“I’ll hazard a guess and say your father got his way.”
She tilted her head back. “Only because Ma-maw died suddenly. She was the only one who could put my father in his place. I was devastated she’d passed, devastated I was being sent away. I don’t make friends easily.”
Logan chuffed. “I don’t know about that. You’ve done a bang-up job in Falcon.”
“Things are different here. I’m different,” she said softly as she rubbed her left hip.
The truth hit him like a punch to the chest, stealing the air from his lungs. “Your scars are from a blade.”
“Yes. Thirty-eight scars. Criss-cross pattern.” She sounded like she was describing something as mundane as a painting. But he was familiar with the angst and pain than went into each cut. He’d self-destructed too, just in a different way.
“You’re a cutter.”
“Was. I haven’t … hurt myself in years.” A defensive edge snaked into her voice. Her hand hadn’t left her hip. “I’ve never told anyone—well, besides my therapist.”
His mind buzzed. “Surely your past boyfriends noticed? Asked you what happened?”
“I lied. I’ve never gotten close enough with a man to share the truth.”
His heart accelerated.
She continued. “I still deal with the occasional panic attack. I had one the morning I told my father I quit, but I’ve learned to mostly control them.”
He came up behind her, slowly so as not to spook her. He pulled her back into his chest and dropped his face into her hair, taking a ragged breath. She smelled like magnolia blossoms in the summer’s warmth. He covered the hand on her hip with his own, weaving their fingers.
“You’re not freaked out?” she asked in a tinny voice.
He gusted out a breath. “Darlin’, of course not. You overcame crippling anxiety to find amazing success. Honestly, I’m in awe of you. You’re the smartest, strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Makes me wonder what you’re doing out in the woods with a disgraced loser like me.” He’d tried to keep his voice jokey, his specialty, but her trust rubbed him raw and the words came out anguished.
“Logan, you’re not…” She turned in his arms and circled her arms around his neck. His favorite ball cap dropped to the ground, but he didn’t care. A combination of pleasure and peace coursed through him with every stroke of her hand through his hair and across his shoulders.
All he could do was shake his head. He was afraid to speak, afraid what he might admit. Instead, he maneuvered her backward, lifting her to sit on the tailgate. Their faces were even, and she pulled back to study him. He hoped the night was his friend and hid the longing rushing through his veins.
The stars lit her in black-and-whites. Pale cheeks, dark lips, her eyes a mystery. He framed her face with his hands, his rough thumbs gliding over the softest of skins. He might have stayed like that until sunrise, but she leaned in to kiss him, a gentle touch. Healing, soothing.
While her hands grappled with his T-shirt, he deepened the kiss, his sexual need for her rising and washing away everything beyond this moment.
The soft croon of a slow, sexy song surrounded them, the beat matching the erotic pulse of his blood. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest and spreading her legs wide, welcoming him. The kiss, the music fed his wild desire.
She pulled his T-shirt out of his pants. He finished the work and tossed it into the truck bed. Her tank top followed, a splash of blue on his white metal utility box. The cut of her bra thrust her breasts high, her peaked nipples almost exposed. He left it on but tugged the lacey fabric down.
His chest compressed in a long, visceral moan. The moon and stars emphasized the full beauty of her breasts. He dropped his head and tongued one peak. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the tremble in the hand that covered her other breast. He cupped it and transferred his mouth.
Her head fell back, her body following. She propped herself on her hands, the thin black strap of her bra falling off one shoulder. He ran his thumbs over her nipples.
Together they got her jeans and panties off. He stepped back to strip, but stopped mid-zip, mesmerized by the sight of her.
“Don’t fucking move.” He barely recognized the guttural rough voice he used.
With only her bra half-on and her legs splayed open, she was a goddess. He’d never seen anything as erotic and beautiful as the woman in front of him. She dropped to her back, one arm covering her eyes.
“Don’t you dare.” He grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand over her head. “You are beautiful. Inside and out. I’m going to keep telling you until you strut around buck naked.”
She huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that would get me arrested.”
“Not for everyone. Only for me at home.”
Her lashes lowered. The realization of what he’d said tied his stomach into a hundred knots.
Home.
He waited for her move.
Her heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest. He loomed over her, his pants half-unzipped, his bulge noticeable.
Home.
What had he meant? Or had he meant anything at all? Lying nearly naked while his gaze set her on fire was not the moment for logical deduction. Later, alone, she’d attempt to dissect its meaning. For now, she could focus on only one thing. Getting him naked and inside of her.
“Are we doing this or what?” She glanced up at him, her lip caught between her teeth, but a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With his hair tousled from her fingers and his broad chest kissed by starlight, he was the sexiest, most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life.
“I know what I’m doing.” He grabbed her ankles, spread her legs, and squatted.
“Oh dear Lord,” she said huskily.
It had been a long time since a man had gone down on her, and an even longer time since she’d genuinely enjoyed it. His tongue danced, exploring her, teasing her mercilessly until she let go of her self-consciousness and concentrated on her pleasure. He dabbed the spot that ached and throbbed for him. Her hips bucked in an attempt to get closer. His soft laughter didn’t faze her. She dug her heels into the tailgate and clutched the blanket.
Breathy moans that she dimly recognized as hers accompanied his soft hums. A cluster of stars overhead seemed to brighten the longer she stared. Her climax tossed her into the light. His tongue and fingers worked a dark magic, prolonging the waves of pleasure and stirring new needs.
After her hips settled and her moans faded, he rose and ran hands up her legs. Out of habit, she covered the scars on her hip, her fingers tracing a particularly long, raised one. Her first cut.
He pulled her hand away and brushed kisses over her hip. After a dozen passes of his lips, she realized he was giving her thirty-eight, a kiss for each scar. Long after his lips left her skin, his touch resonated. Years of shame and embarrassment fell away with his sweet acceptance.
A tear slipped out to trail past her temple and into her hair. Swallowing past a lump of emotion, she pushed up on her elbows. He shucked his jeans in record time, his erection jutting out. Instead of pushing into her, he crawled past her to the back of the truck bed and leaned against the utility box.
“Come here, Jessie.”
On legs that still trembled, she sat astride him. Even though she’d had the most amazing orgasm of her entire life and his erection was prominent between them, tears clogged her throat and threatened to turn her into a pitiful soggy mess. She pressed her cheek against his, kissed the shell of his ear, and whispered, “Thank you.”
He ran his hands from the curve of her buttocks, up her back, and into her hair. “Wow. I’ll do that every night if this is the kind of thanks I get.”
She pulled back with a waterlogged giggle. “Not for … I mean, don’t get me wrong, that was … You know you’re amazing. I meant, thank you for accepting me, scars and all.”
Before her hand could fall to her scars, he cupped his hands around her hips, his thumbs stroking, one side smooth, the other marred. “You act like your damaged goods. That’s bullshit. You’re sweet and sexy and smart. Anyway, everyone has scars, it’s just that sometimes they aren’t as visible as yours. Yours are like a badge of survival.”
Dangit, could the man be any more incredible? Her heart did a jig in her chest. Words hovered at the edge of her consciousness, but she let her actions speak for her and rubbed herself against his erection.
“I want to make you feel good, Logan. Is this how you want me?”
“Darlin’, I’ll take you any way I can get you.” He flicked her nipple with his tongue and unclasped her bra.
The play of his hands on her breasts relit a fire between her legs. She arched her back, pushing her breasts closer to his mouth and circling her hips. She ran her hands across his shoulders to his biceps, the thick muscles jumping. Her next destination was his chest. She tugged at the hair across his pecs before heading south. The tip of his erection was wet and pulsed under her fingers. She traced the flanged head and down a prominent vein, shifting her hips back until she circled the base with a hand.
She stroked the slick length. His hands dug into the soft flesh of her hips and lifted her higher. He didn’t need to issue one of his husky commands. She fit him at her entrance and took all of him in a rapid plunge. They breathed out in synchronicity.
As much as she’d enjoyed giving him control the last time they were together, she reveled in her ability to drive him crazy.
Her pace was slow and her hips shimmied on each drive down. He was so deep, a pressure at once pleasurable yet slightly uncomfortable built low in her belly. She ground against him, his pubic hair tickling her.
On her next grind, he caught her nipple between his teeth. “You little tease.” His warm breath and the pinch of his teeth sent shock waves through her body.
“Do you like it?” She’d tried to sound like a worldly seductress, but instead the question emerged on an out-of-control moan.
“Ride me hard. Make yourself come.”
She wanted to hold out, torture him a little longer, but instead she obeyed, the primal need for completion overcoming her. He scooted until he was flat on his back. She sat up straight, rising and falling faster and faster, rubbing herself with a singular, selfish goal.