Deadly Sins (7 page)

Rising to her full height wasn’t much of a stretch. At five feet, four inches, she wasn’t exactly the tallest woman around.

That short, delicate little body had fit him to a T when he had braced her against the side of a tree and kissed her senseless, though. Not that he’d had many of his senses left himself that night.

Standing on her bare feet, hands propped angrily on her hips, she confronted him with an expression of outrage.

Dressed in another of those filmy, lacy gowns, she looked like pure temptation. It wasn’t black; instead, it was the softest spring green he’d ever seen. The robe brushed the floor, shielding the filmy gown beneath that only just showed the shadowed hint of feminine flesh between her thighs, and pert nipples topping her breasts.

“Manhandling women went out in the Dark Ages, Callahan,” she informed him tartly when he didn’t respond.

He ignored her sidekick completely. It had expertly wiggled in just before he slammed the glass door closed.

Son of a bitch, this woman was more than just the reason for his hard-on. She was the star of every sexual fantasy that could spark in his too-sexual brain. The terrifying fact was, she was beginning to play in fantasies that, surprisingly enough, weren’t all sexual.

He couldn’t allow that.

“What’s my problem?” he snapped as hunger, emotion, and a need clenched his guts as his resentment, his fury against the circumstances he could chance, flooded his system. “It’s three in the morning and you nearly got your head blown off sneaking around to play on my patio like a nine-year-old. Why the fuck didn’t you just cross the yard rather than sneaking around?”

His door was right across from hers. What the fuck was her problem?

Folding his arms across his chest as he glared down at her, watching as the dog sat on her haunches and stared up at Logan as well, panting happily now. The squashed-in dark little face was creased in bliss, as though just the sight of him pleased the little scrap. And he couldn’t understand why.

He was the bastard trying to give the dog away, not a savior.

Skye snorted at his statement, her gaze as confrontational as her smart-assed mouth. “I’m a vampire. I prefer the night,” she replied drolly. “There now, you have your explanation. Can I go back to visiting with the only sociable member of your little family or do I have to deal with you too?”

He wanted to wipe his hand over his face in an attempt to convince himself he was still asleep, but there was no way in his wildest fantasies that he could conjure up such a farcical dream.

Especially the part where he swore he could glimpse her nipples through the lace and soft-as-silk chiffon covering them.

“I didn’t ask for infantile bullshit,” he said slowly, clearly, desperate to ignore the warmth now penetrating his sneaker as the pup crossed between them and flopped over his sneaker to sleep. “I asked what you were doing on my back porch irritating the hell out of me. I thought we agreed you were going to stay away from me?”

Her eyes widened before her gaze slid down his body, though not in appreciation of it, but rather to glance at the now drowsy little bag of fur on his feet as though the answer to his question were self-evident.

Son of a bitch.
He hadn’t asked for this. He distinctly remembered not asking for these kinds of problems.

“The sociable part of your family,” she stated again. “I was visiting. I was not bothering you.”

“Then take it home,” he ground out between clenched teeth as the puppy shifted for a better position on his foot. “It’s not and never has been a part of my family.”

A slender brow arched mockingly. “I think she’s under the impression she’s already home.”

Logan didn’t stop to think or to consider his actions. The feel of the warm little body draped over his sneaker, her little heart pounding against the leather, brought back memories he rarely allowed himself to revisit. Reaching down, he gripped the scruff of the puppy’s neck as he opened the door and with the utmost gentleness deposited the puppy back onto the patio before closing the door in the scrap’s disappointed little face.

“Take it home with you,” he told Skye coldly. “It has no business here.”

And neither did she.

And his heart was breaking.

The pup’s cries threatened his determination and the look of disappointment and pity on Skye’s face threatened his control.

CHAPTER FIVE

Logan had known, even as a child watching the hell his parents had gone through in their battle against his grandparents, that unless it ended, his wouldn’t be a life that could be shared with a woman and a pup. And when you had the woman and the pup it wasn’t long before the kids or, in his parents’ case, the kid followed.

And it was that kid who was left to suffer when the parents were no longer there to protect him.

He almost shuddered in pure, gut-wrenching male horror because he could actually imagine the kids. A girl with Skye’s dark hair and delicate features. Or a boy with his dark hair and her dark eyes.

“Do you have to be an ass all the time, Callahan?” Slender arms crossed over pert breasts he knew intimately as a frown creased her brow and the image of kids, thankfully, disappeared. “What’s your deal anyway?”

“My deal, as you put it, is being disturbed in the middle of the night because of your dog fetish,” he grumped as he forced himself to turn and stomped back to the kitchen.

He would have preferred a stiff shot of whisky, but his cousins had been bitching about the amount he’d been drinking lately. He’d promised to cut back, so he’d just cut it out instead.

“I don’t have a dog fetish. What I have is a coldhearted, selfish neighbor who refuses to take care of the animal parked on his patio,” she informed him as she followed, bare feet and all. He was trying to ignore the fact that all she wore was a damned long shirt.

Making his way to the kitchen as she followed, Logan made the coffee in the dark. He didn’t want to turn the lights on and risk seeing through the soft, soft material to silken flesh and dark, hard little nipples.

Definitely no panties.

His cock was like steel wedged beneath his jeans, and it would probably be prudent to ensure she wasn’t aware of it. All it would take was the slightest spark to set fire to the arousal he could feel threatening to burn out of control between them.

“I’m going to assume you dislike puppies,” she said as though it were a crime as he remained silent and measured grounds into the basket of the coffeemaker. “How can a man that kisses like a pirate dislike puppies?”

Bemusement filled her expression as the last part of her comment made his lips actually ache to kiss her again. “That should be illegal or something.”

The fact that she was staring at him accusingly did nothing to deter the want-to surging through his senses.

He ignored her, just as he pretended to ignore the whine coming from the patio and the hunger raging between them.

“You’re not answering me, Callahan,” she reminded him with an edge of anger now.

“You didn’t ask a question; you made a comment,” he reminded her. “You said you were going to assume I didn’t like puppies, and said I kissed like a pirate. Thanks by the way.” He shot her a mocking smile, hoping it would piss her off enough to make her leave, because he couldn’t seem to do it himself. “Why argue the assumption when all it’s going to do is delay your departure before we both make a helluva mistake.”

He ignored that fist-sized lump of regret that seemed to grow in his gut.

And in his balls.

“Wow, that just sliced to the bone,” she said mockingly as he watched from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a mistake before.”

It didn’t seem to bother her overmuch.

She propped herself against the counter and his dick nearly pushed past his zipper.

Son of a bitch, that confection of lace and, according to his research, chiffon, a chiffon so soft, so silky, it almost vied with her flesh in softness.

“Evidently it didn’t slice deep enough, because you’re still here tempting me to make that fucking mistake.”

Her lips tugged upward in a smile at his comment as she glanced at the counter. “You set out two coffee cups. My mother would be appalled if I were to be so rude as to leave now.”

He dropped his gaze to the counter. There were indeed two coffee cups set out. Matching cups. He was unaware he owned matching coffee cups.

It hadn’t been intentional.

“Why would you want me to share my coffee if that cut went so deep?” he asked even as he poured the coffee before picking up both cups and turning to her.

“Thanks, though it’s no wonder you never sleep if you drink coffee this early in the morning,” she pointed out knowingly as he handed her the drink. “And I rarely refuse coffee. If I did, I’d never get to drink it.”

She was obviously ignoring his question.

“I sleep fine.”

“You’re terse enough, so I highly doubt it,” she said with obvious patience.

Terse.

His cousin’s fiancée, Cami, had a tendency to call him that on occasion as well.

Lifting the cup to his lips, he sipped at his coffee rather than making a comment. He contented himself with the fact that he was trying to glare at Skye.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fazing her. She was merely laughing at him as she sipped at the heated liquid herself.

And he still wasn’t certain how he felt about that. He knew standing in his kitchen arguing was only going to push him faster into taking her straight to his bed. And only God knew when Logan would allow either of them to come up for air after that.

Maybe weeks.

He could bet on months.

The problem was, he was pretty certain that he would keep this woman around indefinitely.

Big mistake there.

“Good coffee.” She shrugged as she lowered the cup, still watching him with gleaming emerald eyes. Tempting him. As though she knew his dick was fighting to take control and just waiting for the moment he would break.

Logan frowned. “Of course it’s good coffee. How can it be bad coffee?”

“I make bad coffee. Horrible stuff.” Her nose twitched as though in distaste.

She was lying to him. She had to be.

“You measure it into a filter, slide it in a pot, add water, and flip ‘ON,’” he said. “How do you mess that up?”

“Easy.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter.

“I would have thought editors of boring tech manuals would have to know how to make coffee,” he pointed out.

Which might well be true, since she really wasn’t an editor, but telling him that was a great big no-no at the moment.

“And I would have thought a man of your intelligence and determination would be doing more than lazing around his house, ignoring his puppy, and waiting on an inheritance rather than proving his innocence,” she retorted sarcastically.

He only laughed at her.

“You think I have anything to prove to the bastards around here?” he questioned, though she was beginning to doubt the amusement in his gaze. “Come on, Skye, you should know better by now if you’ve listened to any of the gossip at all.”

She did listen to gossip, which was why she highly doubted it.

“Why do you do it, Logan?” She didn’t mean for the question to come out with such somber intensity. “Why do you let this county try to rip you apart without striking back?”

For a moment, she wasn’t certain he would answer her.

“Our mothers were the county’s sweethearts,” he said softly, surprising her. “Our fathers were the county black sheep, even before their parents’ deaths. Wild as hell and completely unconcerned about tact. When they married the daughters of the barons, everyone said David, Samuel, and Benjamin would bring them to a bad end. Thirteen years later, they did just that, as far as everyone was concerned.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

He laughed. “This place is like a fucking little fiefdom for the barons and their families, Skye. They are the reason for employment here. The reason why the county is sustained. And our mothers,” his voice softened, “they clothed the poor, fed the hungry, played Santa’s elves at Christmas, volunteered every weekend at the Socials to watch the children. They were everyone’s sweethearts. Everyone’s little sisters. And the fact that each of them was pregnant when they married our fathers only fueled the belief that they were somehow forced into marriage.”

“Incredible,” Skye murmured, shaking her head as she watched him closely. She could feel the regret and sadness that filled him.

She risked the question. “And twelve years ago? What happened then?”

Knowing sarcasm filled his expression. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask about that.”

She lifted her shoulders, her expression, she knew, was filled with the sympathy and regret she felt.

Logan sighed. “They were all wonderful, beautiful women. That’s what I keep trying to tell you, Skye. We didn’t kill them, but they definitely died because of us. Do you really want to join them by continuing to tempt me?”

Thankfully, the puppy saved her on that as it cried out as though in agony once again.

She started to say something anyway; then clamped her lips shut before she glanced toward the door leading to the living area, her expression turning accusing.

The pup was scratching at the glass. Whining. Again.

Logan pretended he was ignoring the dog even though she was slicing through his senses.

Again.

“You can’t let her just sit out there alone,” Skye finally said. “She cries every night, Logan. She’s breaking my heart.”

Logan sipped at the coffee again before replying. “I didn’t tell the little squatter to take up residence, now did I? Or to howl like it was dying every time someone else took it home, until they brought it back? If it bothers you so much, then take it home with you.”

The laughter was gone now. Just that fast, it erased quickly from her face and she was glaring at
him.

Her eyes sparkled with nothing less than disapproval. Could have been more than disapproval, but tonight he was in an optimistic kind of mood. He was going to go for disapproval rather than the optional dislike.