Temptation in Texas: A Christmas Special (3 page)

Abruptly, he pulled back from her, taking his hand
away from her. She moaned in protest and then felt his hot grunt at
her ear.
“You come on my cock.”
With that, he released her
completely, made sure she was stable on her feet, and then he
pushed the pull-down stairs back up until they disappeared into the
ceiling.

Gripping her by the hand, he all but yanked her into
the master bedroom, where he slammed the door and locked it for
good measure. Then he swiveled her and she found her back against
the door, as his hands went to the snap of her shorts. Making quick
work of the enclosure, he began to push her shorts and panties down
her legs.

She gasped and stayed her clothing with one hand. She
hadn’t even told him what she’d done yet and he was already trying
to finish what he’d started in the hallway.
So like
Logan
.

He quickly retaliated to her defensive move by
grabbing the hand that held her shorts, and pulling both her wrists
over her head, where he contained them within the grip of one
single, strong, masculine hand.

Lifting his foot, he forced her legs apart a few
inches and stepped on the crotch of her clothing, pushing the
material to the floor where it gathered around her ankles.

“Logan,” she began, trying to fight the wave of
arousal his actions were inducing.

His face was lined with smoldering menace, his eyes
at the juncture of her legs, now exposed to his view. “Lift your
foot.”

“Logan—”

As if he couldn’t spare the time to argue with her,
he released her hands for the space of about three seconds, reached
down, lifted her foot and tossed her shorts and panties aside, and
then took her hands and braced them above her head again, with a
strength and intent that were unmistakable.

Pushing a hard thigh between her legs, he lifted her
chin and began to go for her mouth with his, but she turned her
head away and panted, “Wait.”

He growled in the back of his throat as he pulled her
face back to his. “Don’t want to fucking wait. Want inside,
now.”

“I need to tell you something first,” the desperate
words slipped from her mouth.

His eyebrows came together at the reminder, and the
hand that held hers became firmer. “Am I going to get pissed?”

She swallowed and licked her lips nervously. “Yeah,
you will.”

His nostrils flared and a further tension invaded his
body. “Like
pissed,
pissed?”

“Yes,” she confessed.

Power coiled within his frame, as he seemed to come
to a decision. “Don’t tell me yet.”

She felt her face fall. She didn’t care for acrimony
between them, she wanted this upset to be over so they could get to
the good part. “Why? I want to get it over with.”

“Can’t. I’m too horny. If I get more pissed than I
already am, I might hurt you.”

Her stomach dropped for a sheer second before her
saner self prevailed. “You’d never hurt me.”

“I’d never
intentionally
hurt you,” he
growled, pushing his cock against her stomach with a bold reminder
of his size and strength. “But sometimes I grip too tight,
sometimes I push too hard, too deep. Don’t want to bruise you,
baby. You gotta let me take the edge off, gotta let me fuck you
first.”

Her pulse skyrocketed at both his confession and the
iron-grip of his hold.

Releasing her hands, he pulled his t-shirt over his
head, tossed it aside, and then did the same to hers.

Looking down at her, her only clothing her bra, his
cheeks became tinged with red. “Jesus, I missed you.
Hate being
away from you, hate it so fucking much.”

“I missed you, too.”

His hands slid down to her plain cotton bra. With a
hurried, impatient motion, he shoved the cups down, releasing her
breasts from their confinement. At the feel of his callused palms
on her naked flesh and his thumbs swiping across her nipples, every
thought in her brain disappeared as sensation took over.

****

With the feel of Lauren’s silky nipples going to
Logan’s head like a fine wine, the angst he’d been feeling since
he’d pulled into the driveway lessened astronomically, even as
sexual tension coiled through his veins and landed in a rush of
blood to his cock.
Jesus
. He’d take sexual tension over
acute fear any fucking day of the week.

He pushed the residual fear to the back of his mind,
letting the feel of her body, the scent of her skin, ease the
turbulence that had almost pushed him over the edge a few moments
ago.

He took a deep breath and inhaled her scent.
She
was safe
. His wife, his woman, was safe . . . and she was safe
in his arms and about to get fucked senseless, as she should
be.

With a sudden urge to consume her, to absorb every
ounce of her every way that he could, he lifted her chin to devour
her mouth. His lips landed on hers, and unable to control his
actions, he pinched her chin and forced his tongue into the silky
interior of her mouth. At the first intimate stroke, his brain
splintered and he felt a now familiar aggression rise up within
him. She tasted exactly as she always did: sweet, perfect, amazing,
faultlessly satisfying
.

He grasped her face in one hand and kept her hands
captive above her head while he stroked his lips and tongue against
hers. Nipping at her bottom lip, he felt the inhalation of her
breath when she gasped and it was like a stroke of lightning to the
heated core in his gut.

It had been four days. Four fucking days without out
her. And now, his territorial, possessive instincts to join with
her overcame him. He couldn’t go slow. There was no need; he could
tell she was ready by the sweet sounds coming from the back of her
throat and the way she was pushing against him.

Releasing her only momentarily, he made quick work of
the fastening of his jeans, pushing them down to his knees. Not
stopping to remove his clothing or even his boots, he lifted her,
forced her legs around his waist and began bringing her down over
his straining cock. She sucked in a harsh breath and he felt it
again, that delicious, all-encompassing moment when his world was
at its most perfect. He lifted her face, demanding her attention,
and her eyes flew open so that they stared at each other. Panting
together. Eye-fucking each other. Promising each other. The pretty
pink that tinged her cheeks that told him she was with him all the
way, even though her eyes looked troubled. He began to push into
the tight restrictiveness that he loved, that he would worship
until the day he died, but he stalled, the look in her eyes messing
with him. He steeled his guts against the need to plunge inside.
“What’s wrong, baby?”

A soft line appeared between her brows. “I don’t like
it when you’re mad at me.”

He felt a drop of sweat bead on his brow; he couldn’t
stand it anymore, he had to push. “I’m not mad,” he said as he
pushed all the way inside on a single stroke.

She jerked in his arms and he felt her addictive, wet
heat ease his way. She sucked in a breath on his second stroke.
“Maybe not this second, but you will be.”

Unable to completely forget the scene he’d stumbled
onto, he knew that what she was accusing him of was inevitable.
“Probably,” he answered, taking another stroke and watching as her
eyes flared at the impact.

“I don’t want you to be mad at all.”

He attempted to soothe her, he only wanted her wet
and willing. “Shhh, be quiet, it’ll be okay, you know why I get
mad.” He pushed against her, found the silk of her nipple with his
teeth and rasped against it with the flat of his tongue as he began
an even, steady stroke.

She whispered a single word, “Why?” and even through
the haze of lust clouding his brain, he realized immediately what
she wanted.
She wanted reassurance.

And he was more than willing to give it to her, even
though she already knew him better than a well-read book. “I get
angry because I get scared,” he whispered against her nipple,
taking a lick and then another as a river of need hardened him even
more. He swallowed hard, and lifting his head from the heaven of
her breast, he looked into the nirvana of her eyes and told her
what she wanted to hear, which was the absolute truth as he
understood it. “And I get scared because I love you
so fucking
much.”

Her eyes flared in reaction, and staring at each
other as if caught in a force field, he tightened his abs and began
taking deep, hard strokes, strokes that he needed to survive, as
much as his blood needed oxygen for him to live.

They were only allowed a few moments of the euphoric
intensity before he felt her begin to tighten around his shaft. Her
body began shaking in his arms, and just as he felt his own orgasm
begin to rise, she closed her eyes as a look of rapture filled her
features. “I love you, too, Logan. So much.”

Ecstasy exploded in his head and he pushed deeper,
filling her to an impossible degree as a thousand lights brightened
his world.

He held still and let her milk his cock for several
long, glorious moments. The knowledge that his feelings for her
kept getting more intense with every day that passed only added
another dimension to the crazy love he felt for her.
She was
his
. He wanted no one else—hadn’t since the first moment he’d
laid eyes on her. He swallowed and gripped just that much tighter,
a slice of vulnerability piercing his heart.

He knew his feelings for her were a little bit
insane. He’d do anything for her, wanted her and only her, and even
admitted that he was obscenely jealous, but did that worry him? Did
he care?

Not as much as it fucking should, he supposed . . .
not if he could have Lauren with him forever.

****

Fifteen minutes later, Lauren sat propped on the bed
in a semi-reclining position, clutching a sheet to her naked form
and watching as Logan leaned against the doorframe between the
bathroom and the bedroom, holding her within his unrelenting gaze.
He now wore only a pair of clean but stained and ripped shorts, the
ones he usually wore when he worked in the yard. Why he even
continued to take care of the yard and not hire the work out was a
question in itself. It had to be because he was so meticulous; he
was such a perfectionist that he didn’t trust anyone else to do the
job correctly. And besides that, she knew he really enjoyed doing
it. He was cooped up in his office all day, and taking care of the
yard was his excuse to be outside.

But at the moment, he made no move to go outside, or
in fact, to leave the room at all. He stared at her intently, his
gaze running down her body and then up again, stopping at her eyes.
As she recognized the expression on his face, she knew, without a
doubt, that it was time to pay the piper. His baser needs having
been satisfied, he now wanted answers.

Shit.

As he leaned against the doorframe, a subtle tension
filled his form, clueing her in that his casual attitude wasn’t
casual at all. “Why were you up in the attic?” he questioned,
biting out the words one at a time.

She struggled to maintain an even pulse; it wasn’t as
if his question was a surprise, she knew it had been coming. She
took a breath and tried to figure out where she should start. It
was a given that her Christmas surprise would be blown to
smithereens. But where to start, exactly, so that he wouldn’t pop a
fuse and go completely Rambo on her ass?

She continued to hesitate as she mulled it over.

“Tell me,” he demanded succinctly, his patience
obviously being tested.

She twisted the coverlet between her fingers and
began slowly, “Will you please try to understand that it was only
your happiness I had in mind?”

He glanced heavenward before crossing his arms over
his bronzed, naked chest and spearing her with his gaze once again.
His lips firmed into a flattened line. “Honestly? I doubt that’ll
help you much.”

A sharp spiral of both apprehension and desire
triggered a flood of heat in her belly. “Logan—”

He inhaled deeply and his shoulders seemed to expand
before her eyes. “Spit it out, babe.”

In addition to the heat and nerves flowing through
her veins, she also fumed with frustration and disappointment. If
only he’d stayed out of town
one
more day, as planned. Sure,
he would have asked her a million questions after the attic room
was completed, but at least she would have gotten to give him a
fantastic present before the shit hit the fan.

Unfortunately, the shit was hitting the fan
now,
and there wouldn’t even be a surprise to make the fight
they were about to have worth it. She let out a pent-up breath and
finally said, “I decided that for your Christmas present, I’d have
the attic finished out for you . . . you know, like a den, or a
man-cave . . . if it wasn’t too expensive.”

As if in slow motion, his body and his features began
to transform before her eyes. And not in a good way. Any other man
. . . would have been pleased, right? With Logan, not so much. With
an expression seesawing somewhere between agonized and furious, his
brows drew together and then his jaw clenched, his fury obviously
winning over. His body tense, he pushed off the doorframe, standing
to his full height. He took a deep breath and the planes of his
torso corded and flexed.
“There’s nothing wrong with the goddamn
house? The dude wasn’t here to repair something?”

She scrunched up her face and slowly shook her
head.

His eyes narrowed into slits of ice and she could
literally see him adding two and two together as his anger began
mounting. “Let me understand this correctly. You were, what?
Getting an estimate? You had a man,
a stranger,
come here
when you were
all by your-fucking-self,
just to get a
goddamn estimate?”