Deadly Sins (25 page)

He glanced at Archer, eyes narrowed as the sheriff stood watching, his hands braced on his hips as he glared down at Skye in worry.

“I’m going to kill him, Archer,” Logan said then.

The entire room seemed to still. Even the walls seemed to have a sense of waiting.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan,” the other man snapped, his expression forbidding. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. But you go any further and you’ll force me to do something I damned sure don’t want to do.”

Logan turned and stared at Skye once again.

She was still pale, but comfortable.

Every few minutes her lashes would struggle to lift, then drift closed again as she continued to gather her strength.

Lifting his hand, he stared at the cloth in his hand and knew what it was. The drug used to incapacitate each of the victims of the Sweetrock Slasher from now to twelve years before.

“What is it?” Archer asked as Logan rose slowly to his feet.

He could finally feel his heart beating again, feel the sense of unreality receding.

God help him, he’d almost lost her.

The EMTs had her stabilized and were talking to the doctors at the clinic. An IV had been pushed into her arm, a bag of fluids suspended from a metal stand beside her.

As Archer spoke, he’d grabbed an evidence bag and opened it quickly. Logan dropped the rag into it.

“It was trapped beneath her blouse after the bastard escaped,” he said, his voice still so rough he wondered if he could continue to hold back his screams of pure rage.

Archer stared at the evidence bag in shock, then back to Logan.

“My God, it really was him,” Archer said softly, the shock impossible now to hide.

“Oh, it was him.” Logan sat down in one of the chairs that surrounded the small kitchen table. “Trust me, Archer, it was the Slasher. I just want to know how he got past her security system, and I want to know who the hell he is.”

He didn’t have to say anything more.

Whoever he was, he was a dead man walking, because Logan had every intention of killing him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Hours later, much too long to suit Logan, he watched as Skye walked from the bathroom, slowly drying her hair as yards of silken material whispered from her breasts to her feet as she moved.

She’d insisted on returning to her house rather than his. Demanded that Logan take her home until he’d finally given in. He’d carried her into the house after Archer and his deputy, John Caine, did a thorough search of the house. He’d helped secure every door and window as well while she showered.

The doors were secured with more than the security system and door locks. Until he could figure out how the Slasher had gotten into her home, Logan had had Archer, personally, place heavy bolt locks on them while he went to the hospital with Skye.

Each window was secured with heavy boards placed between the frame and bottom portion to keep the window from being raised.

The less technical security measures would ensure no one got in without making enough noise to warn him well ahead of time. And they wouldn’t have been necessary if Skye hadn’t insisted. Just as she wouldn’t be in her own house if she would have just listened to him and come back to his instead.

She was herself again, albeit with a few bruises. Sassy as hell and more than pissed off.

But she was alive.

That was all that mattered.

She was alive, and as she dropped the towel and moved to him, Logan couldn’t help but pull her to him, almost shaking with the need to touch her.

To feel her breathing.

To feel her belonging to him.

As he held her, Skye couldn’t help but close her eyes, the memory of her brush with death striking at her with terrifying clarity.

The overdose of chemicals on the cloth should have killed her. The doctors had actually been amazed Logan had kept her breathing until the EMTs had arrived.

Her heart was racing so fast now it felt as though it would race straight from her body. There was a fine tremble quivering through her body, quivering through her hands as the need to touch him became overwhelming.

“You’re not going to listen to good sense, are you?” he finally asked as she watched him silently.

“And leave?” she asked as he moved to her.

At his sharp nod she could only shake her head back at him. “I owe Amy more than to just walk away now.”

“Let me take care of it, Skye,” he asked softly then, staring down at her as he watched her intently. “Vengeance is my job and I have this covered.”

“And I’ve dreamed of taking this bastard down nearly half my life. It’s not a dream I’m willing to give up. And I’m not willing to give you up either, Logan. I won’t let him win.”

“This isn’t a game, Skye.” His expression was somber, his tone filled with warning.

“No, it’s not a game,” she agreed. “It’s twelve years of your life stolen and eight women dead who didn’t deserve to die in the attempt to frame you and your cousins and ensure you have no one to turn to. For God’s sake, Logan, don’t you think there are people who care for the three of you? Who need to see you safe?”

“Then they need to stay out of it,” he growled down at her as he moved back from her and raked his fingers through his hair with an edge of frustration.

Skye shook her head, smiling back at him mockingly. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t you know anything but fucking defying me? Would you listen for a change?”

“Say something sensible and I might consider it,” she suggested flippantly before gasping at the hold that was suddenly on her upper arms and the pressure of his chest against her breasts as he dragged her to him.

Gripping his forearms and staring back at him in defiance, she arched her brow back at him.

There was nothing left for him to say.

Hell, he couldn’t think of anything to say past the hunger, the need, and the desperation to have her.

The hunger to touch her, to taste her.

To fuck them both into exhaustion.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, feeling the silken mass of curls against his flesh, he pulled her head back slowly. Dark lashes dropped slumberously; her eyes gleamed with sudden, unmistakable arousal.

He didn’t think about it before he kissed her. He never thought about it first. The overwhelming urge to just do it was always there, and always impossible to fight.

Their lips fit together like two pieces of a whole. Conforming naturally, heatedly, as he took long, drugging tastes of the sensuality that was so much a part of her.

Dragging her closer, his arms surrounding her, Logan could feel the warm weight of her breasts against his chest, feel the need surging between them, amplifying a hunger already raging out of control.

Tearing his lips from hers was almost impossible. He wanted her kisses like a man dying of thirst wanted water. But he wanted her naked. Wanted her warm flesh against him and the sweet heat of her need burning through him.

Gripping the edge of her soft blouse, he pulled it up slowly, watching the graceful lift of her arms as he pulled it over her head, then tossed it carelessly to the floor.

Firm, lush breasts rose and fell quickly, tight, hard little nipples pressing against the pure white lace of her bra. Cupping the generous weight, he raked his fingers over the hardened tips and was rewarded by a throttled, hungry little moan.

It was a flick of his finger and thumb to release the catch between her breasts; then he was peeling the cups back and pushing the straps over her shoulders and down her arms.

Lowering his head, the need to taste her nipples had his mouth watering. Slowly dragging the straps of her gown over her shoulders and breasts, Logan brushed over the stiff peaks of her nipples,

Pushing the material over her thighs, Logan gripped them and pulled her closer, sucking a nipple inside his mouth and laving it with his tongue.

Watching her eyes closely, Logan ran his hands down her legs, then moved both to the soft rise of her ass and clenched his fingers delicately. As he drew on the tender tip, her nimble fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. She released them slowly as she breathed out raggedly, little moans rising from her as she worked around the fact that he refused to release her nipple and give her better access.

As she pushed the material from her shoulders, Logan released her nipple, gripped her hips again, and then turned her to lower her to the bed.

How much longer he would be able to wait before taking her, Logan wasn’t certain. He knew that having her was something that was going to have to happen.

He wouldn’t be able to survive without it.

Catching one of the tight peaks between his lips as he moved over her once again, the arch of her body, the cry that fell from her lips, filling his senses, he sucked it into his mouth with hungry demand.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

Each flick of his tongue over her nipples, each draw of his mouth, had her hands tightening at his shoulders or her nails raking against them as he sucked at her nipples demandingly.

The feel of her fingers raking through his hair, her nails rasping his scalp, had shards of sensation attacking his balls, tightening and pouring wave after wave of pleasure through his body.

God, he needed her.

Gripping her thighs, he spread them farther before sliding his hands to the sides of her ass and pulling her closer to him. His lips moved between her breasts, his tongue swiping over her flesh to taste the sweet vanilla and sugar taste of her before kissing his way down.

“Logan,” she whispered sensually as he eased her further back on the bed.

Propping herself on her elbows, she watched him, her gaze drowsy, hungry as he began kissing his way along the silky flesh of her stomach to her rounded thighs.

His tongue licked over silky skin as his lips took sipping, sometimes-suckling kisses. He brushed his beard against her thighs and his body tightened at the moan that left her lips. As he brushed it against the soft, nude flesh of her pussy, her hands found their way to his hair again and bunched in the strands at the top of his head.

Fighting the need to rush, to relieve that ache driving inside him, Logan throttled the lust tearing at him. It was a battle to give her all the exquisite pleasure possible, because he had to convince her she didn’t have his heart.

A heart he knew already belonged to her.

*   *   *

Skye couldn’t hold back her cries any longer. The feel of his lips brushing against the sensitive folds of flesh, his tongue licking at it erotically, was unbearably good. Lying back, her fingers buried in his hair, clenched in the coarse strands, she held on for the riotous, fiery ride of pleasure building through her.

Heat flushed through her body. Like a wave of liquid flames shooting through her veins it tore through her and burned straight to her pussy, to her clit.

Each brush of his beard sent pinpricks of pleasure rushing through the naked folds and driving into the clenched tissue of her vagina.

She wanted—

“Oh, God, I want—”

“What do you want, baby? Tell me?” he demanded, his voice rough. “All you have to do is tell me.”

She had spoken aloud? She hadn’t meant to.

His beard brushed over the wet lips of her pussy and a flood of juices caressed the sensitive flesh inside.

“Touch me more, Logan,” she whispered. “Please, I need more.”

“How?”

“God, I don’t know how!” she all but wailed. “Just give me more.”

His fingers eased up the slit, parted her, only to follow with the wet heat of his tongue in a long, slow lick.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed out, unable to hold back the low, drawn-out moan. “Oh, yes, Logan. Do it again.”

He did it again, but as he licked over her clit his tongue stiffened to tuck against the side of it and rub. He just rubbed against it, using the thin layer of skin between his tongue and the side of her clit for added friction.

Pleasure built to an agonizing need for release. Her clit swelled and throbbed, her juices easing from her, saturating the folds of her sex, the feel of them caressing that inner flesh almost more than she could bear.

“Again,” she moaned.

His tongue probed at the little bud again, circled it, added to the friction, and rubbed harder against the side of the bundle of nerves before flicking over it.

Broad male fingers parted her lips, rimmed the entrance. Lifting her hips to facilitate his stroking fingers, she moaned at the need. Skye cried out breathlessly as he worked it slowly inside her pussy.

So slowly.

She could feel every rasp of his finger inside her as he caressed her, moving with slow, deliberate motions and small, stroking thrusts until he buried the digit full length inside her.

His tongue tortured her clit with nearing rapture, holding back just enough to keep her from her orgasm, pulling her from the edge each time the rasp of his tongue rotated against the side of her clit.

When he capped his lips over it and sucked at it with firm draws of his lips she nearly went through the roof. Pinpoints of sizzling sensation struck at her clit, at the tender depths of her pussy. His finger stroked and rubbed deep inside her, adding to the friction that burned around the tender bud of her clitoris.

Her hips writhed beneath his touch. Circling against his tongue, arching to him, desperate to make each caress deeper, firmer. Until his hands clamped on them, holding her still as his tongue became a wicked instrument of sensual torture.

“Logan,” she said, breathless, locked in a pleasure she couldn’t escape and had no desire to end, despite the fact that she was certain she couldn’t survive it.

Her head tossed, rolling from side to side as the need for more sensation became so overwhelming her hands unlocked from his hair and cupped the mounds of her breasts.

Tight and hard, her nipples were painfully stiff, demanding touch, if only her own. Gripping the rigid peaks, she pulled at them, gasping at the lightning-swift strikes of furious sensation that raced to her womb from Logan’s suckling mouth, and the flares of red-hot pleasure that struck her nipples.