Logan's Woman (8 page)

Heat flashed through her body.

His shoulders were huge, leading to a thick,
perfectly formed chest and then to lean hips. His body
was…perfect…even with all of the scars. In fact, if she had to be
blunt, they made him even more hot. More desireable. More…lickable.
Claire could see herself kissing and licking every inch of his skin
till she reached –

“Claire?” he asked, crossing his arms over his
chest, leaning against the doorway.

Oh lord.

His arms...

“Ah…my suitcase…I need clothes.” Her face
flamed and shamed shot through her. Her father…if he saw her now…he
would probably disown her.

But, god, he was so amazingly…formed. That was
the only word she could think of to describe him.

“It should have been brought up to your room,”
he said, frowning. He got up from the doorway and passed her, not
bothering with a shirt.

She cursed mentally. He really should have put
one on. She had a more than clear view of his back and shoulders
and it was so…enticing. Licking her lips, she tried to keep her
sigh to herself as he strode to the kitchen.

His gait was strong and commanding, just like
his presence was.

So caught up in following him and daydreaming
about his body wrapping around hers, she didn’t realize when he
stopped and –

“Oh
,” she
squeaked, running into his back.

He turned around and caught her before she
could fall back, hands wrapping around her upper arms and dragging
her close. Heat shot through her at the touch of his
hands.

He didn’t let go.

If anything, he drew her closer, her body
pressed tightly against his warmer one.

“Let…me go,” she said weakly, the command
turning into more of a question than an order.

She brought her face up to his. Gasped at the
desire she saw there.

He leaned down and caught her lips with his,
shocking her.

Her reaction was immediate.

With a sigh, she melted into his embrace and
kissed him back, her eyes closing. He opened her mouth with his,
kissing her hard, drawing her closer to him. One hand wrapped
around her waist, and the other fell to her ass, cupping
her.

Her hands threaded in his hair and she forgot
where she was. There wasn’t any danger, any anger or weariness.
There was only Logan, his hands, and his mouth.

She pressed into him, wishing he’d do more with
his hands like he had earlier this morning. Whimpering, she pulled
on his hair.

Logan pulled back.

Stared at her with obsidian eyes.

Then groaned, picking her up and carrying out
of the kitchen, face buried in her neck, leaving light kisses as he
expertly made his way through the hall and to wherever he was
taking her.

She didn’t notice, couldn’t have if she’d
tried. She was too blissed out, too desperate for him to touch her
and kiss her and make her feel like she’d never felt in her
life.

“Logan,” she whispered, pleading to him for
something she had no idea about. Her hands were stroking him
everywhere she could touch as he carried her through a
door.

He set her on a bed.

Stood over her.

Stared at her.

Started to lean down to her…

And shoved away from the bed, from
her.

The desire washed away as if someone had poured
ice cold water on her. Her hands turned numb and slowly, as he
moved to stand by the window, as far away from her as he could
manage without leaving the room, sat up.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, feeling tears
burn her eyes. She’d never felt such passion with anyone in her
life, and now, after he so easily walked away from her after making
her feel so…amazing, she was ashamed to have let herself be so
free, especially with a man like Logan.

Claire struggled to keep the tears out of her
eyes. “Listen, we can skip the lunch. If I could just get a ride to
town to get a room at a hotel…”

He turned around sharply.

“No.”

Her back straightened, the manners her aunt had
taught her stepping in. “It’s clear that I’m…taking space. At a
hotel I can stay out of –“

“Claire. Stop. You aren’t staying at a hotel.
Think about it, Gerry’s is right in front of the other
one.”

She worried her lip, contemplating.

“And you are
not
taking up space by being here,” he
said roughly, finally turning to look at her. His eyes were still
dark, hooded, flooded with desire, but he made no move towards
her.

She didn’t know whether to be flattered or even
more ashamed of what they had done.

Her father had raised her
differently than to…to
copulate
with a man. And even though they hadn’t made it to
the final stage, she was damn sure that if he hadn’t pulled back,
she wouldn’t have made him.

Her cheeks flushed darkly.

Logan stared at her – she could feel it.
Looking away, she stood up slowly, as if her bones ached. It wasn’t
her bones, but her body. She was heavy with desire for him – it was
like a weight pressing on her shoulders.

“I’ll find where your suitcase went. You can
look around if you want, even go out to the stables. Just stay out
of the guys’ way.”

He didn’t spare her another glance before
leaving her in the room, alone.

---------------------------------------------

He found her suitcase near the back of the
house. Frank had probably forgotten what to do with it and had set
it there. He picked it up and brought it to her room, grateful when
she wasn’t there.

It was hard enough to be in the same house
without jumping her, he thought grimly.

Maybe going to lunch wasn’t that good of an
idea. Two times. He had tasted her two times today, and his body
was begging for more. He began making their lunch, packing it in a
picnic basket and thinking of the last time he had done
this.

His mother. She’d loved lunches outside, in the
fields, with the horses grazing around them. When all of his
brothers had lived together, when they were all younger, she’d
taken them out almost every day. Playing ball with them, teaching
them how to ride, giving them some of the best lunches they’d ever
had…

An ach settled in his chest as he packed
another sandwich. It’s been years since she’d had a lunch with
them, years since he’d heard her laugh. She’d died of cancer when
he was just seventeen, and with their father AWOL he’d been left to
raise his brothers. The second they’d gone off to college, he was
on his way to the military and had ended up being recruited as a
marines.

He hadn’t expected to be in the
service as long as he had been. At first, going into the forces had
been a way to pay for his college. But later, four years into it
and on his last deployment, he’d realized he didn’t want to leave.
His brothers were safe and taking care of the ranch. His
other
brothers, the men
he’d grown into a man with, relied on him.

It had been through them that he’d started his
own team with a grant from the general and the president. For
years, up until he was thirty, he had made his life his job. Every
breath was taken in silence. Every step was taken invisibly. Every
shot and every stab was meticulous. His heartbeat was the same as
his brothers – calm in the face of danger yet racing with
adrenaline and the urge to carry out with the job.

They’d done projects together, protected
together, killed together, almost died together. It was impossible
to leave them so soon. Only when the grant ended and they weren’t
needed did he decide to finally have a life on his
ranch.

At thirty one, he’d met Christina. His brothers
had pushed them together and he hadn’t put up a fight, knowing he’d
gotten to that age where he needed to think about his ranch more
than himself. And marrying Christina had been a good bet, up until
he’d found out how greedy and manipulative she was.

Chase had confessed to her trying to seduce
him. He hadn’t given in, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin Logan’s
already rocky marriage by mentioning it to his brother. So he’d
stayed silent – and when he’d found out, he hadn’t even been mad at
his brother.

He could have killed Christina,
though.

When they’d first met, she’d been nice and
beautiful. Seemingly kind at heart. Yet Logan had known there was
something wrong with her. The way her eyes would glaze over
whenever she saw a piece of jewelry she wanted, the way she would
beg and beg till she could have it. The way she always went
shopping at the most expensive places, even when money was
tight.

And, he’d noticed the first time they went out
to dinner on their wedding night, the way she eyed other men – not
caring that her new husband knew exactly what she was thinking. She
wouldn’t let him touch her, so sex had been nonexistent.

Logan hadn’t cared. While he had thought to
have heirs and provide for his family with his ranch, he hadn’t had
any thoughts of it when he’d realized they had no desire to fuck a
selfish whore.

Months of fighting, of her trying to lay her
hands on everything he owned, and he’d finally come to his last
inch on the rope of why he hated his wife so much. He’d come home
early from a trip to Huston, Texas, a cattle rancher event where
they auctioned off prized bulls, and he’d known the second that
he’d pulled up in his driveway that something was wrong.

There had been a truck there, one that he’d
never seen. Frank had been walking out of the house, his head low,
shoulders stouped. When he’d seen Logan, he’d frozen. Then, slowly,
looked away. As if he couldn’t bear to see him.

She’d been in
his
bed.

With a
different
man.

Moaning and screaming and whimpering like a
motherfucking whore.

Which she was.

Within the next two minutes, there’d been a
fight, she’d been thrown out, and Logan had gotten the cops called
on him for punching the guy she’d been with in the nose, hard
enough to break it. He might have also broken some arms and a
couple of ribs.

He hadn’t noticed.

Logan grabbed containers from under the counter
just as Claire was walking down the staires, arms crossed over her
chest.

He looked up and…stared. Her hair was down her
shoulders, blonde locks curling softly around her face and
cascading down her back like a silky waterfall. Her eyes were
bright, thick lashes surrounding them and her lips… She had on some
sort of peach-colored lip-gloss and he wanted nothing more than to
kiss it off.

His eyes fell down her body.

She had on a pair of leg-hugging jeans and her
shirt was bright in the front. She had on a thin scarf, draped
loosely around her shoulders, and she had on a short pair of
comfort boots.

God, she looked beautiful.

Clearing his throat, he set the containers on
the counter and went to the refrigerator, grabbing out a carton of
Koolaid and lemonade. “Almost ready to head out…I would suggest
some tennis shoes though. Do you like Koolaid or
lemonade?”

He was really trying not to stare at her, but
it was hard. She had such a sweet face, such full lips. When she
smiled at him, bright white teeth flashed and she told him, “The
Koolaid. Do you have any sugar?”

Logan pointed to where it was and she went over
to it, picking it up. “Let me see that,” she said, grabbing the
container from him. She looked around the kitchen with the thing
still in her hands, till she found a cup. She tested the Koolaid
and then gave him a chiding look. “There isn’t any sugar in
this.”

“Well, there isn’t –“

He stopped talking, watching her as she poured
almost every grain of sugar into the container. “Okay.
Nevermind.”

“What?” she asked innocently, putting both the
sugar and the now highly-caffinated Koolaid down.

“All I can say is that I’ll be drinking the
lemonade.” He tried not to laugh at her insulted
expression.

“Fine then,” she huffed. “I’ll be
drinking the
Koolaid
then.”

“Well obviously…”

Claire glared at him.

“Go get some tennis shoes on. I’ll be out in
the barn when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay!” He waited till she had ran up the
stairs to leave the kitchen, the picnic basket in his hand and the
drinks in the other. Frank was there, of course, and he asked his
man to help him saddle up the mare while he got his own mount
ready.

Logan, deciding that Claire would be a while,
moved ahead of time and galloped to the spot where he would have
them sit, hiding the picnic basket under some blankets near a tree.
The grass was tall, almost to his knees, and the sun was shining,
casting glowing rays around him.