Masters 01 Master of the Mountain (6 page)

He eyed her. Hot drink first.

She roused to take some hot chocolate, although she wasn't especially polite. City girl had a mouth on her when riled. Setting the cup on the nightstand, Logan stripped and joined her. Rolling her onto her side, he pulled her back against his chest and molded her frozen little body against his. Skin to skin warmed a person quickly. God, she was soft.

She gave a low, husky sigh.

Christ help him, he bet she'd sound like that when a man entered her. Her soft ass nestled against his groin and against a cock so hard, even her chilled skin couldn't cool him off. Unable to resist, he pressed his lips against the curve of her shoulder. She smelled of only soap and woman. Considering her classy city clothing, he'd expected a fancy perfume.

And what was Miss Modesty doing with this troupe of swingers? The little rebel just didn't add up, and he wanted a few answers. Later. For now, he buried his face in her silky hair and cupped his hand over her breast. A man was entitled to some small pleasures when saving a woman's life, especially since her presence in his bed meant he'd have to stay awake. God help them both if he should fall asleep.

* * * * *

In the middle of the night, Rebecca woke draped over Matt, toasty warm and thoroughly confused. When had she returned to the cabin? She distinctly remembered freezing her butt off on the porch swing. Had he come back for her and put her into bed? Surely she hadn't had that much to drink.

She moved slightly and stiffened. Her cheek rested in the hollow of a man's shoulder, a very muscular shoulder. Her arm lay across a chest much broader than Matt's, and her fingers touched crisp hair. Matt's chest was bare as a teenage boy's.

No expensive cologne either, just the clean scent of soap and pine and…definitely man. A hard arm curved around her back, and the hand gripping her shoulder had callused fingers.

Had she gotten so drunk she'd gone to bed with one of the swingers? No, she couldn't have. She hadn't been that brainless since her college days when she discovered sex.

“You awake, sugar?”

Her mouth dropped open. The deep, raspy voice could belong to only one man. “Mr. Hunt.”

The laugh rumbled through his chest like a minor earthquake. “Considering your position, perhaps you'd better call me Logan.”

Her leg was tucked between his thighs, her knee pressing against his groin, and her thigh touching… Oh my, his chest wasn't the only body part bigger than Matt's, and he was fully aroused. A wave of heat washed through her, surely caused by embarrassment and not excitement. “How did I…? We didn't…”

Another rumbling laugh. “No, we didn't. I found you on the porch swing, and you were well on your way to hypothermia. I brought you up here and got in to warm you up.” His hand stroked her upper arm, the touch firm. “But if you'd like to warm up even more, I'm willing.”

“No, thanks.” She tried to push away from him.

The arm around her back tightened, holding her in place. “Uh-uh. Your body temperature is still low, and I'm not going to have all my careful work ruined by you stomping back outside.”

“I'll go back to my cabin and…” And what? God knew who might be in there now. The memory of Matt and Ashley curled inside her like a rotting worm. With a sigh, she gave up. “Never mind. I'll stay here.”

“Good choice. Nothing's going to happen to you now; I prefer to bed women in full possession of their wits.” She felt his lips touch the top of her head. “But in the morning, you might be in trouble.”

Memo to self: remember to get up and out before dawn
. The tenseness eased out of her muscles when he didn't try anything. She still had on her underwear, so he really hadn't taken advantage. When his hand stroked up and down her arm, more comforting than carnal, she let herself drift.

Logan waited until her breathing slowed, her muscles went lax, and she hovered on the edge of sleep. Time for interrogation, vanilla-style. Yeah, rope would be a hell of a lot more fun. “Why are you with the swingers?”

Drowsily, she rubbed her cheek against his chest, hardening him to discomfort. “Matt wanted me to come. Thought it would make our sex life…” Her words trailed off into a yawn.

The idea of her boyfriend being inadequate to her needs made Logan grin. “It doesn't bother you he's with other women?”

The whimper she gave broke his heart. Yes, it bothered her. Her fingers toyed with the hair on his chest and then went still. Her brain had disengaged again.

“He's a jerk?”

“He's perfect. Just…I…no swinger.” Her hand languidly stroked the muscles on his shoulder. “…doesn't like my body.”

“Mmmph.” Logan had to grit his teeth to keep from rolling over and driving into the body Matt didn't like. If anything could snap his control, it would be a soft, round woman pressed against him. “Not everybody likes skinny women, Becca.”

“Daddy did.”

Logan frowned. Sometimes the present-day culture didn't make much sense, especially in its inability to appreciate lush women. This little one should have been born a few decades ago, when she could have given Marilyn Monroe some competition.

Her breathing slowed even further, her hand going limp on his shoulder, which was a pity. He'd been wondering how he could entice those sleepy fingers to explore farther down. With his free hand, he ran his knuckles over her soft cheek.

Rebecca's internal alarm went off a while before dawn. As she opened her eyes, she realized their positions had shifted during the night, so now she lay on her back with him pressed against her side. One of his hands cupped her breast, and even through her bra, the feel of his fingers sent a thrill through her. How weird. How wrong. She hated Matt's behavior with Ashley, and now she wondered what it would be like to make love with Logan.

Hypocrite
. Then again, her relationship with Matt probably wouldn't survive this weekend, she realized with an aching pain. Nonetheless, getting out of this bed would be a clever idea. Ever so carefully, she moved Logan's hand and started to inch out from under his arm.

“I'm awake, sugar, so all those maneuvers aren't necessary.” His hand slid back to take possession of her breast again, this time easing under her bra to her bare skin. At the rough caress of his fingers, her nipple bunched up, and a spike of arousal shot straight to her core.

“Well, now,” he murmured, his thumb circling her nipple.

“Listen, I don't want—”

“No, your problem is that you
do
want.” He rolled over, and his weight flattened her into the bed. And
oh
, he felt incredibly good. She could feel her panties turn damp. Nudging her legs apart, he settled his hips between her thighs.

“Logan,” she whispered, “no.” She pushed against a chest as solid as a boulder, and as unmovable.

“Becca, yes. You owe me a good-morning kiss at least.” He added in a mock-serious voice, “I saved your life, you know. You could well have died out there.”

The faint light from another room played over his beard-shadowed jaw. Lines radiated out from the corners of his eyes, crinkling as she stared up at him. His erection pressed against the juncture of her legs, the only barrier her thin panties. When her hands splayed against his chest, the crisp hair couldn't disguise the rock-hard muscles beneath.

As before, coming up against his massive body, she felt feminine and soft and very tempted. “A kiss? No more.”

“It's a start.” He dipped his head to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. The arousing contrast of his velvety lips and the scratch of his morning beard wakened a flutter deep in her belly.

Her hands clutched his wide shoulders, and she didn't know whether to pull him closer or push him away. She shouldn't do this.

He solved the question by moving to her mouth, rumbling a laugh when she kept it closed. A sharp nip on her lower lip made her gasp, and his tongue plunged within. His kiss was skilled, experienced…and overwhelming.

The demanding thrust of his tongue made her think of other places he could be thrusting. Each time he moved, his cock bumped against her pussy, each touch like a spark of sensation. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as she tried to find her eroding balance.

His hand stroked her breast, his palm so big he could hold her fully. When he sucked her tongue into his mouth, an ache of need burned through her body. Slow, thorough, he kissed her forever, and by the time he raised his head, her fingers were buried in his thick hair.

Propping himself on an elbow, he fondled her breast. “When you took your shirt off yesterday, I had trouble keeping my hands off,” he murmured. His fingers circled her nipple and then rolled the peak. His eyes on her face, he increased the pressure until sparks shot down to her sex, and her lower half went liquid. The gentle stroke of his thumb eased the throbbing, and then he moved to her other breast.

Oh God, he knew exactly what he was doing, painting her like a canvas, each stroke deepening the intensity. “Logan,” she whispered, shivering as unfamiliar sensations rushed through her.

His hand stilled, pressing against her breast and holding her still as he studied her. “Too much?” he asked softly.

“I don't…” God, her body was flaming out of control, and she wanted his hands all over her. Wanted him inside her with an intensity she hadn't felt before.

No
. She didn't have sex with strangers. She pulled in a breath, and the scent of him made her head spin.

“It's all right, Becca.” His next kiss was softer, less demanding, his hand on her breast gentled. Her body edged back into her control as the need died back to a simmer. A relief, but a tad disappointing. Her breathing slowed.

Leaning back, he regarded her with steel blue eyes. After a second, the intense gaze made her feel vulnerable. She started to sit up.

His hand between her breasts flattened her like a pancake, sending her pulse spiking. A thrill of excitement rippled through her body, and his eyes narrowed. “Not as vanilla as you look, are you?” His hand didn't let up, keeping her pressed into the mattress.

Her voice came out shaky. “What do you mean?”

His slow grin made her pulse stutter. Still between her legs, he grasped her hands and raised her arms over her head. Clasping her wrists with one big hand, he anchored them above the pillow.