Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (28 page)

“Oh, do you need a drink of water?” Anna asked, her voice sweet as pie. She grabbed the water bottle from his nightstand, which she'd apparently put there as he sure hadn't, and tossed it his way. “Here. Take a long swallow. Maybe two. Hydrate yourself before we get started.”

Nodding, he caught the bottle and did as she said, hoping the liquid would unstick his vocal cords. So he could talk. So he could discover what, exactly, she was up to and why she was in his bed instead of insisting on more answers. Or, he supposed, smacking that cast-iron skillet on his head.

He drank down half of the water before wiping his mouth with one hand and screwing the top on the bottle with the other. Testing his vocal abilities, he said, “Anna,” which, okay, came out as a throaty type of a croak but was a good measure better than his prior attempts.

“Good!” The goddess in his bed clapped her hands. “We solved that little problem quick enough, didn't we? Now,” she said, patting the space on the bed next to her, “it's time to solve another issue that I'm experiencing. If you're willing, that is.”

“Willing?” She could not mean, despite all the evidence in front of him, what he thought she meant. “To do what, exactly?” Oh, Lord, he could see her nipples. “Be very clear, before I jump to the wrong conclusion and... Just be clear, Anna.”

As if he hadn't already jumped. And landed. And was priming himself to jump again.

“Oh, I intend on being crystal clear, so no worries there.” Sitting straight, she bent her legs and brought her knees to her chest. The action yanked her dress-sarong-nightgown up a few more inches, so now Logan had a mouthwatering view of her taut, shapely thighs. “In thinking over our conversation this morning, I realized that—before your apology—you made one statement that held some validity, albeit not in the context you presented. And I decided—”

“Now, wait just a second.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, which likely looked defensive in nature, but in reality, he was holding himself back from leaping on that bed and kissing her long and hard. “Only one of my statements held any validity? I'm not sure that's entirely fair, as every word I said about being busy was the absolute truth. No, I did not handle myself well, but I already admitted that and I've promised to do better.”

“Yes, you did, which are hugely positive steps.” She tossed her billowy, cloud-like hair over her shoulder. “And my goal isn't to rehash an argument that's already been settled.”

Did she have any idea of the effect she was having on him? “Then please let me in on what this is about, because right now, I have all sorts of ideas in my head that are likely false.”

“Well, see, it's like this.” She blinked, drew in a breath. “You stated that my pregnancy hormones are in overdrive, creating an intense reaction inside my body, and that was why I thought you were behaving like a cantankerous old man.”

“I recall the conversation just fine,” Logan said.

“Good. But you know what?” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and Logan's groin tightened in reflex. “You were partially right, the bit about my hormones, because I am experiencing an intense reaction. Just not in the way you thought.”

And like that day she'd shown up on his front porch, he knew precisely what she was about to say. He told himself to turn around and escape while the possibility to do so still existed. Because once she spoke those words...well, he was doomed.

“I've tried to ignore this issue, Logan,” she said in a coquettish manner. “I really, really have. But it's bigger than me and my willpower, and since you've repeatedly mentioned that I should tell you if I need anything—anything at all—I'm asking you for help.”

Yep. Doomed. “I... Yes, of course. What...um...is it that you need?”

“Why, sex, of course,” she said bluntly. Evenly. And without a breath of hesitation or embarrassment, all while looking him straight in the eye. “I need sex, Logan. Preferably today—as in
right
now
—if that happens to fit into your schedule?”

Chapter Seven

A
quiver born of anticipation and desperate, deep longing brought a sheath of goose bumps to Anna's arms as she watched Logan attempt to process her request. His eyes darkened several shades—in desire, she hoped—and he stood so motionless, she wondered if he was still breathing or if she'd managed to knock the wind clean out of him.

And naturally, she wondered if he would take her up on her offer or shoo her away, with either words of kindness or another round of frozen indifference. If given the choice, she'd prefer the indifference. Kindness could mask pity, and the very last reaction she wanted from Logan while sprawled on top of his bed was any form of pity.

He hadn't yet said so much as a peep, so she pushed forward, saying, “You are my husband, Logan, so where else should I go to have this particular need fulfilled?” Very purposefully, she slid her body down the bed, narrowing the space between them to almost nothing. “I mean, I've tried a few solo methods, but with...um...unsatisfactory results.”

This statement seemed to breach the great divide, as a tremor shuddered his shoulders. “Solo methods, you say? What type of—” His jaw slammed shut and he shook his head. “Never mind. Knowing the specifics will just fill my head with images that do not need to be there.”

Oh yes, she had definitely made an impact. So, while she had his attention, she said, “But you can understand, can't you, that I'm in a bind of sorts, right? And why I'm asking you—my husband—for assistance in this matter?”

“I can comprehend the basics,” he said. “Despite our earlier agreement, you're now telling me that you want sex on the table.”

“Well, I hadn't considered the table,” she said in mock innocence and with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes. “I mean, if you insist and with a couple of pillows, I suppose we can make that happen. To be completely honest, though, I was thinking we'd go the traditional route and stick with the bed. But...hmm, the table? It's an interesting suggestion, Logan.”

“Now, you know full well that isn't what I meant,” Logan said, finally approaching the bed. One long step brought him directly in front of her. “And I have plenty of interesting suggestions, but first, I need to know if you've thought this through. And you might want to talk fast, because I'm hanging on—barely, I might add—to a very thin rope here.”

“Yes, I've thought this through, and yes, I am one hundred percent positive.” Okay. Ninety-nine percent, at least, but she wasn't about to fret over a measly 1 percent. “And you know, in case you're concerned, sex during a normal pregnancy is...well, extremely healthy.”

Logan dropped the water bottle on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, right next to her. So close, she could've leaned in and kissed him. “Healthy, huh?” he said. “Is that so?”

“That's so,” she murmured.

“What you're really saying, then,” he said, stroking his fingers from her ankle to her knee, “is that we should have sex for the good health of the baby?”

“Um. Not exactly.” His touch, as slight as it was, tingled along her skin, making it almost impossible to concentrate. “In a way, I guess, but it's more about the...ah...orgasms.” She spoke so fast, her words blurred into one another. Forcing herself to talk at a slower pace, she said, “They—the orgasms, that is—assist in improved sleep, make labor and delivery easier, and can even speed up recovery after the baby is born.”

“Wow. All that? Remarkable.” In slow, measured movements, he trailed his fingers from her knee to her thigh and back down again. She shivered, in delight and in expectation. “I didn't realize you were sleeping poorly, sweetheart.”

Between the low, intoxicating drawl of his voice and the light yet still searing touch of his hand on her skin—not to mention the electricity crackling in the air—the rest of Anna's carefully prepared speech, including all the nonemotional and practical reasons they should engage in a sexual relationship, fled her brain.

“I'm not so much having a problem with sleeping now,” she managed to say as Logan expanded his exploration and slipped his fingers under the hem of her sarong. She closed her eyes. Breathed. “I'm thinking more along the lines of being proactive, I guess you'd say, to fend off the possibility of future sleepless nights.”

“I am rather a large fan of proactive thinking,” he said. “And I have to say, I'm impressed you've done your research on this topic, and I—” God, now he had both of his hands on her hips, and in doing so, he had pushed her sarong up to the very top of her thighs “—absolutely despise the thought of you not getting the proper amount of rest.”

“Yes. Well, I...I like to think ahead,” she said, breathless.

This was really happening, with extraordinarily little effort on her part. And now Logan was taking the lead, which was all fine and good, except she'd meant to say more. About their arrangement, about how a physical relationship wouldn't change any of the rest of their agreement. Mostly, though, that she was not falling for him or under any misconceptions that he was falling for her.

“Oh!” she half yelped, half whimpered as his hands started their trek up her body, toward her breasts. “Stop, Logan. Just for a minute. Please.”

He did so, instantly, and exhaled a long breath. Thankfully, while he went completely still, he didn't pull away and his hands remained just where they were. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked. “Or...something else?”

And she knew, to the bottom of her soul, that if she had changed her mind, this man—despite his grumpy attitude for the past two weeks—would not hold it against her, and he wouldn't make her feel bad. They'd just carry on as if he hadn't found her in his bed.

But since she hadn't, in any way, altered her decision, she said, “No to the first, but before we get too far in, I just want you to know, to understand, that this is about sex between two consenting adults, not romance or...or anything more. That's it. Just...um...sex.”

At her words, an invisible weight dropped out of thin air and landed solidly in the space between them, and Anna wished—oh, how she wished—that she hadn't opened her mouth. Why had she felt so compelled to put a damn spotlight on the line they'd already drawn in the sand?

He didn't speak. She didn't, either. But their gazes remained connected, and he did not remove his hands from the still relatively gentle slope of her stomach. Even so, she recognized they were on a precipice. One wrong word would completely shatter the moment or any hopes of continuing what they'd started. And oh, she absolutely wanted to continue.

So she tried again, saying, “I thought it best to be open and honest, because I... Well, you shouldn't worry that I'm suddenly seeing us, what this arrangement is, in a different light. I'm not, Logan, I promise.” She shrugged. “I'm just...um...”

“Horny?”

She laughed, and in a blink—or maybe two blinks—the weight disappeared and Logan smiled. A sleepy, sexy smile that, once again, put them exactly where Anna wanted them. “An adolescent word,” she said, “and rather crude, but yes. You understand what I'm trying to say, though, right? That you don't have to worry?”

“Sweetheart,” he said in an easy, breezy, no-big-deal sort of way, “I already assumed as much, but I'm glad to have confirmation that we're on the same page. Sex is sex. It doesn't have to mean anything other than what it is.”

Confirmation, huh? On the same page, too? Well, she couldn't quarrel with either, even if the terminology and Logan's easy acceptance somehow grated. It shouldn't, she knew. In any way at all. “Right,” she said, refusing to let negativity take hold. “I'm all set now, Logan. We can...um...commence. If, that is, you're still interested?”

“
Interested
doesn't begin cover how I'm feeling.” Logan wrapped his arms around her waist, beneath her sarong, and tugged her toward him. Close enough that she was darn near sitting on his lap. She looked into his eyes and recognized the hunger she saw there, in their stormy blue-gray depths. Hunger for
her
.

And that look right there catapulted her own desire, her own hunger for him, to new, previously undiscovered heights. No, she did not need a perfect body to be
or
feel sexy with Logan. And yes, the heat they created together was more than enough to put her in a sexy frame of mind. She liked—no,
loved
—that she appeared to do the same for him.

It was a luscious form of power. One they each held for the other.

Logan's mouth captured hers in a slow, searching type of kiss, and Anna fell headfirst into the moment. Hard lips pressed against hers while his hands flattened against the small of her back, somehow bringing her even closer to him. The kiss deepened in intensity, in heat and, yes, in hunger, too. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else
could
matter. Not when Logan's mouth commanded—demanded, really—her undivided and complete attention.

Which she happily gave.

She moaned softly as they continued to kiss, as the heat between them grew from a steamy sizzle to an all-out burn, as her need for him continued to climb. It seemed endless, this want she had for this man. Endless and beautiful and so very natural.

Breaking the kiss with a groan, Logan said, “Lie down, sweetheart.”

“I don't much feel like lying down,” she said. “You can, though, if you want.”

With a suggestive, somewhat amused quirk to his brows, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, exposing his bare chest and strong arms, his tight, taut stomach and angled hips that peeked out in a ridiculously enticing fashion from the waistband of his jeans.

To Anna, he was breathtaking in his masculinity.

But then he did as she'd asked and stretched out on the bed. She knelt next to him and leaned over, running her hands up his arms, from his wrists to his shoulders, and reveled as he clenched his mucles, released them, then clenched them again. Logan exhaled a sharp, short breath, and another groan emerged deep from his throat. And oh, the sight of him, the sound of him, the
reality
of Logan and what was about to happen between them made her feel incredibly feminine.

Inch by delectable inch, she stroked his skin, moving her fingers from the hard plane of his shoulders to his lithely muscular chest, from his chest to the beautiful, perfect line of fine, soft hairs that just barely covered his flat, rippled abdomen. Without any self-consciousness to speak of—what did she have to be self-conscious over?—she unclasped his jeans and, slipping her hand into the denim waistband, continued to touch...to explore.

The physical proof of his desire was undeniable and, based on her oh-so-fun but less-than-scientific measures, seemed to be...er...growing rather rapidly. A fact she very much took pleasure from. This was, she decided, yet another form of power.

“Anna,” Logan said, his tone thick and tangled and smoky, “I love what you're doing here, darlin', but my control is slipping fast.” Reaching over, he brushed his thumb along the curve of her cheekbone. “I want you. Quite desperately, it seems, and I don't believe I'll be able to wait a lot longer. Especially if you keep doing... Ah, yeah. Doing
that
.”

She glanced his way, gave him a saucy, sexy grin and then kept right on doing
exactly that
, relishing the effect—
all
of the effects—she was having on him...from his uneven, shallow breaths to his tensing muscles to the delicious warmth emanating from his skin.

No. She wasn't quite ready to stop. Not yet, at any rate.

Her intention was to go in a sweet, slow fashion, to savor every minute—every second—of this encounter, in case it proved to be their last. And she had zero concerns about Logan losing control. Despite his warning, she'd wager every last dollar currently in her bank account plus every single dollar she'd yet to earn that he'd stay in control from this minute until the very last.

Another deep, hungry groan growled from his throat, and suddenly his hands were on her, sliding her sarong past her breasts, up to her shoulders and, once he loosened the delicate silk ties behind her neck, over her head. He dropped the garment on the floor to join his shirt.

“If you think,” he said, “that I'm going to sit idly by while you have your way with me, then sweetheart, I believe you should start thinking differently. Two can play at this game.”

Oh, Lord. Her heart started beating faster, her muscles all but melted into jelly and one long shiver rippled through her body. A plethora of memories from the last time she was naked with this man—the night they conceived their daughter—rushed in, causing her to shiver again.

Just that fast, her control ceased to exist, and it no longer seemed important to take any of this slow. She wanted him. He wanted her. It was, after all, an extraordinarily simple equation.

“This seems a bit unfair, Logan,” she said. “Here I am, without any clothes on to speak of, and there you are, still wearing your jeans. I think it's time to even the stakes.”

And then, to show she meant her words, she unzipped his jeans and gave them a good, solid yank, so the dark gray denim loosened and dropped to his hips. Better. Much, much better...but not nearly good enough. Freeing herself from Logan's grasp, she tugged his jeans down and off his legs, and his navy blue boxers—with a little help from him—quickly followed.

“There,” she said, crawling her way toward him. “Now we're even, and I think—”

That was all she managed to say before his arms crushed around her and he pulled her to him, on top of him, and his mouth came to her breast. His tongue found her nipple, and she moaned as he kissed and caressed and teased this oh-so-sensitive area before he moved on to do the same to her other breast. His touch was delicate, soft, but the sensations he evoked were overwhelming in their intensity. Another moan escaped her lips, and she knew she couldn't wait any longer. Her body wouldn't let her wait any longer. She needed him.