Deserving of Luke (15 page)

Her words shot straight through him, making him
even harder though he hadn't thought it was possible. Pure, unadulterated lust grabbed him in a stranglehold, made every breath he took an agony.

“Oh, darlin',” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers, “So do I. So. Do. I.”

He pulled her closer, forced her legs wider, until he was nestled right against her sex. He could feel the heat of her even through the denim of their jeans, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to strip her and take her right there on the family room couch.

But there was Luke to think of, Luke who might come out of his bedroom looking for his mom or a glass of water or a midnight snack.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth, swept his tongue over her dimple again and again. She tasted so good. “Where's your bedroom?” he asked intently, determined to get her off the couch before he was so far gone he no longer cared.

“I'm sharing with Luke right now.”

He cursed under his breath, long and low and mean. She laughed, a breathy sound that shot straight to his sex. “There's a guest room that's almost finished. It doesn't have any furniture yet, but there's a mattress in there. Is that okay?”

He half-snorted, half-laughed. A mattress on the floor sounded like heaven to him right now. Of
course, in this state he'd be more than willing to make do with the floor, a wall, the bathroom counter. Anywhere he could get inside her, quickly, was more than all right with him.

He didn't say that, though—she was already nervous and he didn't want to make it worse by coming on like a starving man. But he was starving, desperate for the sight and sound and taste and smell of her. Delirious with the need to touch every inch of her.

“It's perfect,” he said, forcing himself to stop running his lips over her satiny skin. “Which way?”

She led him up the stairs, her curvy ass swinging a little with each step she took. Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.

His lips found hers and delivered hot, drugging kisses that made her quiver and made him need. The second they reached the bedroom, he shoved open the door, propelled her inside. He followed right behind her, crowding her, pushing her gently but inexorably toward the wall. Bracketing her with his arms as he leaned forward and took her mouth, one more time, with his own.

The kiss took him right over the edge and then he was devouring her, his mouth and teeth and tongue all working together to absorb her into him. Her mouth was dark and wild and sweet and so addicting that he wasn't sure he would ever be able to let her go.
Didn't know how he had ever been stupid enough to let her go the first time he'd had her.

Desperate to feel her, he ripped her sweater over her head. She gasped and her head fell back on her shoulders. She was peaches and cream, light and shadow, salvation and debauchery all rolled into one. He'd never seen anything more beautiful than her in the moonlight streaming through the window.

Tracing his thumb over her lavender lace bra, he moved his fingers over the inviting swell of her breast. He lingered there, savored the incredible softness of her skin beneath his calloused fingers then moved farther, until his whole palm rested flat against her breastbone. Collaring her, possessing her.

“Say you want this.” He ground the words out as his fingers stroked the pulse beating wildly in her throat. “Say you want me.”

“I want this,” she whispered, her eyes cloudy with desire. “I want you.”

She brought her hand up, wrapped it around his. Lifted his fingers to her parted lips and kissed each one of them before slipping his index finger deep into her mouth and laving it with her tongue.

He nearly lost it right there, nearly ripped her jeans down her legs and took her against the wall. Only the fact that this was their first time together in so very long kept him sane. Only the fact that he wanted to,
needed to, make this special for her kept him from taking her like a wild man.

She relinquished his finger slowly and he groaned, desperate to be back inside the moist heat of her mouth. Desperate to feel that warmth licking down his body to his sex.

But that could come later—much later. Right now he needed to feel her skin against his.

Keeping her pinned with his body, he yanked off his shirt, then slid his hand up her back to unfasten her bra. She gasped as he slid it off her, nearly sobbed when his hands moved over her sides to cup the lush ripeness of her breasts.

The feel of her in his palms was so delicious, so right, that for a second he couldn't function. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. Tried to calm down a little so that their lovemaking wasn't over before it began.

It almost worked, until he realized that he was breathing her exhalations, that with each breath he took he was drawing her deeper and deeper into his body. The thought sent another wave of heat crashing through him and he brought his lips to her ear, nipped at her lobe—not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to have her back arching and her delicious breasts pressing more firmly into his hands.

Nothing he'd ever done—no adrenaline rush from chasing a bad guy, no endorphin rush from sex—had
prepared him for his reaction to her. Not only the way his body caught fire when she was near him, but the way his heart trembled in his chest. The way he wanted to take care of her, apart from Luke. The way he wanted to bury the past, forget old hurts and move forward with her at his side. To hell with what everyone thought.

Control, he told himself, as he licked his way down her neck to the hollow of her throat and took the scent of lilacs deep inside.

Control, he reminded himself as he skimmed his lips over the pale undersides of her breasts and nipped gently at her.

Control, he promised himself as he pulled one hard, sweet nipple into his mouth and began to suck.

She screamed, a hot, strangled little sound. He decided control was highly overrated.

And then her hands were in his hair, tugging him to her hungry mouth. It was her turn to explore him, to run her tongue over his lips as she squeezed his shoulders. Smoothed her hands over the sensitive skin of his lower back. Cupped his ass and ground against him.

That's when he knew that no matter how much he wanted this to last, no matter how hard he tried to take things slowly, it wasn't going to happen. Not
now. Not when his body was literally starved for the feel of hers.

Pulling away from her, he started on her jeans, his fingers clumsy with desire as he tried to yank the zipper down. He fumbled once, twice, like the high school kid he'd been the last time he'd made love to her and she laughed.

“I'll do it.” She was breathless, the words barely audible as she ripped off her jeans and shimmied them over her hips and down her thighs before letting them fall to the ground beside her.

Overwhelmed by a sudden need to see her—really see her—he moved his hand along the wall until he bumped into a light switch. Muttering a prayer that they'd gotten around to putting light bulbs in, he flipped it on and nearly trembled in delight when a soft glow flooded the room.

“You're so beautiful, Paige. So damned beautiful it takes my breath away.” And she was, standing there wearing nothing but a pair of lavender panties. Her breasts were full and round, her hips lush, her legs long and toned. She was every late-night fantasy he'd had in the past nine years, every unfulfilled dream he'd woken from, hard and sweaty and desperate.

And she was here, in front of him. His for the taking.

“Not so beautiful,” she answered. “I have…” Her
hand went to her flat stomach, to the light stretch marks that stretched across the skin. “From Luke.”

He dropped to his knees, nuzzled his way across her belly as he imagined what it would have been like to touch her while his child nestled there.

Running his tongue along the edge of her bikini panties, he delved down below the elastic band and stroked his tongue over her mons.

She moaned, her eyes going wide as her fingers clutched at his hair. He repeated the action, looking up from beneath his lashes at her as he did. Her head was back, her lips parted, her eyes half closed and glowing. Her skin was flushed a dusky apricot and her body was trembling with each breath she took.

“Yes, beautiful,” he said firmly. “The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

Then he ripped off her panties.

P
AIGE SHUDDERED AS HER PANTIES
ripped, bit her tongue to keep from crying out when Logan thrust his hand between her legs and cupped her. It had been so long since she'd been touched by him and it felt so good that, for a second, she wasn't certain her legs would hold her.

Reaching out, she grabbed his shoulders. “Logan, please.”

“Please what, darlin'? Please stop or please keep going?”

“I don't know. I need…”

“What? What do you need?”

“You.” She moved a hand to his chin, tilted his face until he was looking straight into her eyes. “I need you.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

“Were you?”

“I was. Because I need you.”

His words shot a thrill straight through her, had her hands clutching at him as her knees did, indeed, buckle, and she ended up on the floor beside him.

His laugh was wicked. “Am I going too fast for you?”

“You're going too slow.”

She reached for him, started to unbutton his jeans but couldn't resist rubbing her palm against him. He jerked, cursed a little, but didn't move her hand. She grew bolder, cupping him through the thick fabric and stroking him with her thumb.

“Take my jeans off,” he growled, thrusting against her hand.

She didn't have to be asked twice. After working his button through the hole, she unzipped his jeans slowly, enjoying every second of the job. Loving the vibrant heat of him beneath her palms and the dark sensuality of the look he was giving her.

When the zipper was finally down and she could no longer torture him with “accidental” brushes of her knuckles against him, she wiggled her hands inside his waistband and began pulling the denim down.

The jeans were baggy, so she shouldn't have had any trouble getting them off, but it took forever as she kept getting distracted by his heavy erection, so close to her cheek and mouth. Finally, unable to resist, she leaned forward and brushed her cheek against the burning, velvet length of him.

His shaft jerked in response, his hands tightening in her hair, so she did it again, this time blowing a
little to torture him. Nine years was a long time, but not so long that she'd forgotten what he liked.

“I want to feel your hands on me.” He ground the words out. “Now, Paige. Touch me. Please.”

His voice was hoarse, rough, dark and dangerous. She was getting wetter, hotter, her body on the brink of an orgasm though he had barely touched her. But this was Logan.
Logan.
And she couldn't pretend to hate him any longer.

For months after she'd left Prospect, she'd dreamed of him touching her, holding her, loving her. She would wake up clutching her pillow and crying for him, her body on the brink of coming from dreams and memories alone. It was almost shocking to realize that this wasn't a dream, and Logan was here and she was touching him as she'd wanted to for far too long.

Unable to resist, she reached for him. Stroked him. Slid her hands over and around him, reveling in the feel of him and the desperate, hungry sounds coming from his throat. He was hotter than she remembered, thicker and her body ached with the need to feel him inside her.

 

L
OGAN LET
P
AIGE
stroke him as long as he dared, but when he felt himself getting too close to losing control, he tugged her hand away from him. She started to protest and he silenced her by lowering his mouth
to her nipple, loving the way she tasted and the way her back arched at the first touch of his mouth.

A moan escaped her and she clutched at him, stroking him in one last, lingering caress that set every nerve ending in his body to jangling. In response, he used his tongue and his teeth to stroke and nibble as he sucked.

She gasped, trembled, her legs falling open. He took advantage of the situation, slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and brushed his knuckles against her. She was soft and wet, and so hot. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to sink his body into hers and never leave. He wanted to make her come, wanted to feel her climax against his hand, his mouth.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he slid one long finger inside her and began to stroke. She moaned again, louder this time, and he leaned over her to capture the sound with his mouth.

He loved kissing her, always had. When they were kids he had kissed her for hours, reveling in the feel of her lips beneath his and the soft sounds of desire she always made. He stroked his tongue across the seam of her lips before drawing her lower lip between his teeth and sucking firmly.

Her eyes flew open, but they were a hazy, opaque green that told him she was as close to losing control as he was. He didn't let go, didn't stop kissing her, didn't rush for the prize as he would have at eighteen.
Instead, he took his time, savoring her mouth and the expressions—stark and real—flitting across her face.

He couldn't look away from the emotion there, couldn't get over the trust she was giving him after everything that had come before. Determined to make this good for her—to satisfy her—he set about making her as insane as she had already made him.

Curling his tongue around her nipple, he sucked at her until she was sobbing, trembling, crying out for him as her hips pistoned against his hand. He slid a second finger inside her, stroking the soft, hard bud at the apex of her thighs as he did, and she screamed.

Her inner muscles clamped around him and her head thrashed. Her hips came off the floor, and he took the opportunity to press kisses down her belly to her sex, alternating between long, lingering licks and quick, teasing little bites that had her clutching at his hair and chanting his name.

“Logan, please,” she cried. “I can't take it, I can't take it. Logan, please!”

He slid down her body, pressed his face against her and inhaled the sweet, musky scent of her. And then set about driving Paige Matthews out of her mind.

 

S
HE WAS OUT OF CONTROL
, her body so desperate for completion that Logan could do anything
to her—anything—and she would probably allow it. Need was a fiery maelstrom inside her, raking through her with each rapid beat of her heart. And when he lowered his mouth to her, began to lick, she knew that he was going to burn her alive.

She'd never felt this way before, had never felt this alive, this beautiful, this wanted. When they were young, Logan had taken his time with her, had made sure she was satisfied, but nothing of those long ago sessions could compare to this heat, this passion. This power that he seemed to have over her.

She arched toward him and he blew against her, the hot air sending tremors of pleasure soaring through her. She was close, so close, to something truly incredible and she wanted to go there, but she didn't want to go alone. She wanted Logan with her every step of the way.

“Please,” she begged again. “I need you inside me. I need you with me—”

“I will be. I promise. Just relax and let me take care of you for a little while.”

His tongue stroked over her again and again, light and hard, teasing and so wild that she couldn't stay still. She thrashed beneath him, her body under his thrall. Her lungs were burning, her body screaming, her heart beating so fast. It scared her a bit—she'd spent so much of the past nine years making sure she was the one in control. But the fear wasn't enough
to make her stop him, wasn't enough to combat the insidious pleasure that had taken over every part of her.

The tension built and built inside her, a powerful wave taking her higher and higher. It was frightening and exhilarating and she clutched at Logan, needing something to hold on to. Needing him to keep her safe.

He chose that moment to reach up and stroke his thumb across her nipple, once, twice, and that added sensation, that added heat, was all it took. She shattered, her body bowing as wave after wave of her climax ripped through her from head to toe.

Suddenly, Logan reared back and fumbled a condom out of his wallet. Then he was thrusting inside her, and she reveled in the feel of him. But it took a few seconds for him to push himself all the way in. Once he was there, so deep she swore she could feel him in every part of her, Paige wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him and rode out another climax.

Logan gasped as Paige lifted herself against him and he wanted nothing more than to pound into her with every ounce of strength he had. But she was so tight, so incredibly tight, that he worried about hurting her.

Pulling back slowly, he thrust forward again, trying to be as gentle as his raging blood would let
him. But Paige would have none of it. She dug her nails into his back, sank her teeth into his shoulder, tightened her legs around his waist so that he moved deeper.

She lifted her head, licked him from the center of his chest to the hollow of his neck and he knew he was lost. His hips pistoned forward, picking up a hard, quick rhythm that made his head swim and his body scream for completion. Flames licked over his skin, sizzled through his body, burned him alive as he thrust into her. Through it all, he focused on her, watched her face, lost himself in the pleasure washing over her.

Nothing had ever been as good as this.

Paige called out his name, grabbed on to him, and that was all it took to send him over the edge. Release tore through him, spreading through his whole body, sizzling and scorching along his nerve endings, roaring in his ears and his mind until all he could feel was Paige. Until all he knew was Paige.

He pumped faster, and felt her climax hit her as her body spasmed around his own. Then he was falling, spinning, shattering and for one blinding moment he was afraid that he wouldn't survive the pleasure. It was too intense, too all-consuming, too overwhelming.

He fastened his mouth onto Paige's, lost himself in the taste and feel of her and let himself go.

 

H
E DIDN'T KNOW HOW LONG IT
was before he came back to himself, before he could force his burned-out brain to form a coherent thought. “We didn't actually make it to the mattress,” he said, idly playing with a few strands of Paige's hair.

She laughed, and since he was still inside her, the sound rolled through him and set off sparks all over again. He knew he should get off her, knew he was too heavy for her, but he couldn't force himself to move. Not yet. Not when he was still reveling in how good it felt to be inside Paige again.

“I can't say that I noticed.”

“Neither did I. But then I wasn't on the bottom.”

“Speaking of which…” She shoved at his shoulders until he rolled off her. As he pulled out, he was shocked at the immediate feeling of loss he felt, almost as if he wanted to spend his whole life curled up against Paige, loving her.

The thought sent him bounding to his feet. Not a place he wanted to explore. “Does that bathroom work?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I'll be right back.”

“And I'll be right here.”

Paige watched Logan go, shocked at how awkward he had suddenly seemed. It didn't make sense to her, as she felt wonderful. Amazing. As if she could take on the world and win.

Scooting over to the mattress, she pulled the sheet off and wrapped it around herself as she waited for him to come back. She knew she should clean herself up as well, but she didn't want to. She wanted to stay here for a few minutes and bask in the incredible looseness of her body.

The second the bathroom door opened, however, she knew there would be no basking. Logan looked a little out of place and a lot confused. It gave her a pang, made her realize that he might not have felt the same way about their lovemaking as she had. Not that that was necessarily a surprise—she'd learned that lesson nine years ago, just a bit too late. But learn it she had, and she wouldn't be making the same mistakes tonight. The trick was not to look him in the eye.

Climbing to her feet, the sheet still clutched around herself, she handed him his pants. “If you need to be somewhere, I understand. Don't feel like you need to stick around—”

“Are you kicking me out?” He sounded incredulous.

“No. I figured you might need to go. You are the sheriff, after all, and you might be on call or something—”

“I'm not.”

“Oh. Okay.” She reached for her shirt, started to
shrug into it, but Logan stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“What's going on here, Paige?” He sounded confused and slightly angry and that set her own anger soaring. What did he have to be upset about? He was the one who had started acting like he couldn't get away from her fast enough.

“Nothing. You seemed…anxious to leave. I didn't want you to feel like you had to stick around.”

He yanked on the sheet until she lost her grip. “And what if I want to stick around?” he asked. “Is that okay with you?”

Her heart trembled in her chest, more vulnerable than she liked to admit. What was it about this man that made her behave so foolishly? That made her want to give him everything even when she knew it wouldn't turn out well?

“That's fine with me.”

“Good.” He grabbed her around the waist and tumbled her to the mattress. “Because I'm not quite done with you yet.”

“Oh, really?” She forced herself to raise an eyebrow instead of jumping for joy. “What else is there for you to do to me?”

“Oh, Paige. I've barely gotten started.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, started to kiss her, but then pulled back at the last second. “I'm sorry. I don't know how you normally handle this. Do you
want me to leave in a few hours, before Luke wakes up? Or should I stay? What do you usually do?”

For one long second, she didn't know how to answer him. She certainly couldn't tell him that the situation had never come up before, that he was the only man she'd slept with in almost a decade. He wouldn't believe her and telling him would serve no purpose except to make them both feel awkward.