Chapter Four
JESUS CHRIST. DID everything Logan Wild say have to ooze sex? Stella had never met anyone more masculine, more virile. He wasn’t frighteningly aggressive, like Kutcher was. No, Logan was a different type of brawn altogether. She could tell by the confidence he possessed, the words he chose, the way his blue eyes darkened and narrowed and his voice took on a guttural quality, that when he pleasured a woman, he didn’t just take her; he consumed her. She was trembling from anger and fear, her mind was a whirlwind of chaos, and still she got damp when he stepped in so close she could smell his scent and taste the liquor on his breath. She’d had to run out of the room to finish her shift just to remember how to breathe. She’d been on the verge of throwing herself at him and fucking him against the door, on the table, bent over the chair. God, she wanted him—and she felt like a slut for wanting him after what had just happened.
She hated that she felt like a slut for wanting something that other people did all the time without second thoughts. She hated Kutcher for making her afraid. Goddamn it. She felt like she was going to explode, and Mr. Blue Eyes was sitting at the end of the bar the whole fucking time, watching her like she was some precious gem that he had to protect.
I’m not a precious gem.
I’m strong. I’ve survived this long without a guy taking care of me. I’ll be damned if I need it now.
Her shift was over at midnight. She glanced at the clock. In five minutes she’d have made it through one more day. In five minutes she’d be closer to the day Kutcher would be released from jail. In five minutes—four minutes now—she’d have three more days to live her shell of a life before she was forced to start looking over her shoulder again, because he’d appear. Oh yes, of that she had no doubt. Kutcher always appeared. She’d made one big mistake at the last gas station she’d stopped at and mistakenly used her credit card for food. She’d been lucky when he’d been jailed for assaulting the guy at the gas station, but that didn’t dull the ache of knowing he’d attacked that poor man because he was looking for her.
She was on borrowed time until the lion would be released to stalk his prey.
Stella went into the back office and grabbed her purse. Dylan turned away from his desk with an irritated look in his dark eyes. He’d been pissed when she’d returned to work, but he’d finally given in and allowed her to finish her shift.
“Stella, do you want a ride home, or is Logan still out there?”
“He’s out there.”
She lived only a few blocks away, and she was used to walking home with heightened senses, listening for footsteps following too closely, her eyes darting to the alleys as she passed. She hated always being on alert, too, but even though Kutcher was locked up, he’d left a trail of awareness that she couldn’t shake. Because of the attack tonight, she was dreading the walk home even more than usual. No matter how many times she played tough, inside she was still that girl from Connecticut who wanted to live a safe, comfortable life. Only now she wanted to live it with that darker side he’d exposed, the side that loved raw sex and visceral, animalistic passion. It scared her as much as it excited her. She knew she couldn’t have both. She’d seen the dark side—and it was too dark. But part of her knew that she was no longer the white-fence type of girl. She was stuck in some middle ground she knew nothing about, and it pissed her off just thinking about it.
Fucking Kutcher.
She shouldered her purse and reached for the door, hesitating momentarily under Dylan’s steady gaze. Dylan was the only person in her new life who knew about Kutcher and what she’d gone through. They’d become friends over the past few weeks. He’d been curious when she’d asked to be paid in cash, and at first he’d flatly turned her down, but before she left the bar that night, he’d given in to her plight of being new in town and needing the cash in order to keep her apartment. It was a lie. She’d had cash saved from when she’d moved, and she had somewhere in the neighborhood of seven thousand, eighty-six dollars left. But she needed the job. Seven thousand dollars didn’t go far in New York City.
“That guy Logan? How well do you know him?”
Dylan leaned back in his chair. “If you’re asking me if he’s like your ex, he’s not. He’s been through hell and back. He’s a good man. You can trust him.”
She nodded, feeling slightly more at ease.
The bar closed at two, and there were still throngs of customers milling about. The confidence she wore like a shield while she was behind the safety of the bar thinned as she made her way to the front. Blue Eyes was on his feet and at her side in seconds, one arm on her lower back, eyes darting protectively around them.
“What are you doing?” She kept her eyes trained on the door.
“Making sure you get home okay.”
When he pushed the door open, she walked through and kept on going. What was he doing? Stalking her? He fell in step beside her, returning his hand to her lower back. She craved it and feared it at once. She couldn’t afford to be stupid, like she’d been when she went to the ladies’ room. She should have screamed, kneed that guy in the balls, done something other than panic and flail her useless hands at him.
She stopped and extricated herself from Logan.
“I’m supposed to just let you follow me home?” She crossed her arms, affecting a barrier between them. His eyes warmed and the edge of his lips quirked up in a half smile. He was too damn handsome for his own good. She bet that looks alone got him into bed with many women.
She might be next on that list.
Stop it!
“I’d drive you home, but you made it clear that you’re not getting in the car with a stranger. I thought about calling you a cab, but I have the feeling you’re not the type of woman to take handouts, and given that you finished your shift because you needed the paycheck, I doubt you want to spend money on cab fare.” He shrugged. “I’m a private investigator, not a rapist. That guy who attacked you is still out there, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”
She’d been so overwrought with trying to move past what had happened, then getting caught up with Kutcher being released from jail, that she hadn’t thought about what might happen next with the asshole who’d attacked her. No wonder Logan’s eyes were darting all over. Pride wouldn’t let her accept his offer. She wasn’t a damsel in distress, and she didn’t want to come across as one. Not even to the handsome PI who wanted to protect her. It was probably a game to him anyway. I am man, big protector; now fuck me good.
The thought made her smile, because she’d like to do just that.
She spun on her heels and walked away without a word, knowing damn well he’d follow. Which also made her smile, although she gritted her teeth to keep from revealing it.
The long city blocks were never really dark, though they were eerily dim. Even the back streets seemed to be illuminated by the energy of the city. The trees were in full bloom, and for a moment Stella allowed herself to pretend she was back in Mystic, walking to her apartment along the pretty streets, without fear, without a sexy bodyguard whose presence felt much bigger when it was just the two of them in the night. She reveled in the memories of walking along the harbor and wanted desperately to one day be able to return to her hometown and feel safe again. She didn’t know if she ever wanted to live there again, but being able to see her mother without looking over her shoulder would be a gift from the heavens above. She couldn’t imagine ever having that again.
She couldn’t imagine making it back to Mystic alive once Kutcher was released from jail. He was the epitome of an abuser—overly apologetic and manipulative. Like all the other mind-fucked women who stay with abusers, she’d fallen for his ploys and had taken him back after the first few times, but when she’d finally broken things off, he’d become the worst kind of stalker, appearing out of nowhere and attacking her. If he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want anyone else to have her either. She found out too late that he’d been at the party where she met him because he was selling drugs to one of the wealthy guests. She hadn’t realized how big his drug-dealing business was until she’d made the mistake of telling him she knew about his operation. That was when he’d turned from leaving bruises to wanting her dead.
When they turned onto her street, Stella felt Logan move closer, tension surrounding him like a bubble; he felt dense and powerful. She didn’t live in the best neighborhood. As they walked around that final corner and headed down the deserted sidewalk, the sounds of cars and people gave way to eerie silence, with the random dog barking in the distance. She was fully aware of the moment she shed the false security that city nightlife provided and her armor clicked into place. She knew that all it took was one night, such as tonight, where in the midst of a crowded bar, evil could pick a target and make its move, and no one would be the wiser.
She shot a glance at Logan—jaw clenched, eyes narrow and scrutinizing, fists at the ready.
No one but Logan Wild.
“This is it,” she said as they came to the alley that led to the back of the row house where she rented a room. She took a step toward the alley, and he gently grabbed her arm, then stepped ahead of her, leaving no room for negotiation. He was paving the way. Ensuring her safe arrival.
She’d never met anyone like Logan before. Even the guys she’d grown up with, the ones who’d known her from the time she was a schoolgirl and had told her that they’d be there for her when they first heard about what Kutcher was doing, had abandoned her. Fear was a powerful thing. They’d acted as if bad luck were contagious. Her friends had all put space between them in the final days before she’d left town. Only that poor man at the gas station where she’d mistakenly stopped and used her credit card for food had tried to stand up to Kutcher. She’d learned on the news that he’d ended up in the hospital. The upside was that Kutcher had landed in jail for a few months; the downside was that the poor gas station attendant had spent weeks healing from broken ribs and lacerations. She still carried that guilt around her neck like a noose. She hadn’t even been able to thank him because she feared that making contact would give Kutcher a fresh scent to follow.
She unlocked the door, and Logan put an arm out in front of her, blocking her path.
“I’ll check it out first.”
She rolled her eyes at his insistence but couldn’t deny the relief of knowing someone else would endure that first few seconds of what if instead of her. That steady panic that grew every night when she walked home and then first stepped foot into her basement apartment.
“Be my guest.” She tried to sound as if she didn’t care, then held her breath as he walked into her apartment and flicked on the lights.
Logan didn’t seem to possess the same fear that had sent her friends scattering from her life. What would it be like to be that self-assured? She followed him into the small kitchen and watched as he stepped around the small table and two chairs, then opened the pantry. The kitchen was no bigger than most people’s bathrooms, but it was functional, and she didn’t need extravagance.
Logan glanced at her, forced a smile, but she could see he was in protection mode. His eyes were narrowed and serious, and his shoulders had risen with tension. He planted his legs with every measured step, reminding her of a panther, stealthy and powerful, the way he moved through the small hallway, checked out the bathroom, then the laundry closet on the opposite wall. He methodically checked out every nook and cranny in her apartment. She moved closer as he stepped into the bedroom. With no doorway to separate the two, he had a clear view of her double bed, single dresser, and the clothes hanging in her closet. When she’d run from Mystic, she’d taken only what she could carry without assistance. She’d fit everything she needed in one suitcase and two backpacks. Stella had fretted about having enough clothes to sustain whatever job she’d eventually find to hold her over, but she’d quickly realized that it wasn’t clothes, shoes, or other material items that she needed in order to get through each day. She’d learned that strength and determination were the only must haves she needed in order to survive.
What Stella missed most was hearing her mother’s laugh, seeing the happiness in her eyes when Stella walked through the door to visit, and the way her mother lowered her voice when she talked about something she found funny or interesting. God, she missed her. She glanced at the picture of her mother on the bedside table, the only material thing she owned that she really cared about.
“I think you’re all clear.” The sleeves of his dress shirt were pushed up to his elbows, exposing muscular forearms with a dusting of dark hair. The top buttons were still undone, tails untucked. The fight had added streaks of dirt to his shirt and a wild messiness to his hair, making him even more devastatingly handsome.
If Logan had been standing in her bedroom looking like sex on legs before Kutcher, Stella might have tried to flirt with him. She wouldn’t have thought about seducing him before Kutcher, because before Kutcher, she was a good girl, and her seductive ways included little more than stolen glances. Kutcher ruined that for her. Ruined her. Thinking of all the ways Kutcher had changed her, and the things he’d stolen from her, brought anger. It started deep inside her, simmering, brewing, bubbling up in her chest, until she wanted to scream.
She took a step closer to Logan, thinking about when he’d first come into the bar. His eyes had locked on hers, inciting fear, then desire.
“Thank you. There aren’t many places to hide in here.” She shifted her eyes to the bed, felt her cheeks flush at the pang of longing to be touched that gripped her, and turned away from Logan. She shouldn’t be thinking about lying on the bed beneath him, feeling him move inside of her, but wasn’t that a normal thing for a girl to think around someone who looked like him and acted so nice? Kutcher had slithered into her psyche and coated the most normal thoughts with guilt and fear.
“Hey, you okay?” He came up behind her, so close she’d bump into him if she moved. Warm hands touched her arms, and she closed her eyes, fighting images of Kutcher doing that exact same thing, then slamming her into a wall. In an instant, anger reared up inside her again.
Logan’s hand slid down her arm as he came around and faced her. “Your whole body just went rigid. Did I hurt you?”
As Stella shook her head, she realized that while she’d been fantasizing about Logan, her pain had subsided. “No.”
“Why did you flinch?”
He was so close she saw every sliver of whisker along his jaw.
“Did I scare you?” His voice slid over her skin, warming her all over.
“No. You didn’t scare me. I’m just mad.” She didn’t know where the confession had come from, but it opened a door inside her and her breaths came faster, harder. His eyes were seductive, and she wanted to see them staring down at her while he was buried deep inside her, taking away her pain and fear and filling her with pleasure.
“I’m sick of being afraid.” She turned away to distract herself from the lust coiling down low in her belly. “I’m tired of measuring every thought. Every move.”
“Stormy…” He came up behind her again. The air around them blazed with heat. “That’s not your real name—we both know that.”
She took a step away, half expecting Logan to grab her arm and spin her around, the way Kutcher would have. But he didn’t. He pinned her with an empathetic look from a few feet away, and she felt her armor start to crack.
She’d just been attacked. She should be more fearful, afraid to climb out from under all that armor and let go, but she felt just the opposite. She was sick and tired of the weight of running. She wanted to reclaim her life, her body, her mind.
She was powerless to stop the truth from spilling out. “I want to walk down the street without my heart hammering and my nerves on fire.” Her arms swept through the hall as she paced, breathing like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I can’t even use my real name. I want to be able to go home and visit my mother without worrying that some psycho is going to attack and kill me.”
“Why can’t you do those things?” His tone was tender, yet serious.
She scoffed and closed the distance between them, drawn to the caring look in his eyes, the way his hands had unclenched and reached for her. “All I want is to be a regular girl.” She took a step back, battling her desires. He took a step closer. Her chest rose and fell with each angry breath, nearly grazing his. She wanted that contact, wanted to feel her breasts pressed against his strong chest.
“You know the worst part about all of this?”
“Tell me why you can’t do those things, and I’ll figure out the worst part.” His eyes went nearly black as his hands skimmed her arms again, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Ugh!” She tried to walk away, and he held her still with little more than a touch of his fingertips. She didn’t want to get away.
“Tell me. I’ll help.” He was dead serious.
“You can’t help. No one can help. I’ll never be normal again. I’ll never be able to do any of those things, or walk down the street without fear, or fuck any goddamn guy I want without worrying about being killed.”
His eyes searched hers. “I’m not going to kill you. But I’m willing to help with all those things, and God knows I’ll happily fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”
His potent virility made the room feel smaller, hotter. Her limbs trembled, and tears stung her eyes, which only pissed her off even more. She lifted her chin in challenge.
“Is that what you want, Stormy? You want me to take you right here? To spread your legs wide, lick your pussy until you come over and over again, then stick my hard cock inside you and fuck you until you forget everything else in the world? Because I promise you, Stormy Knight, you’ll not only forget how to think, but you’ll be so sore tomorrow that every step you take will remind you of me filling you so completely that you’ll crave more.”
His eyes dropped from her face, to her neck, to her breasts, lazily appraising her with a maddening hint of arrogance that made her desire spike. She was already wet with need, and when he cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her taut nipple, she lost any sense of right and wrong and gave in to the smoldering flames between them.
“God, yes—”
It came out in one long breath, which he captured in his mouth as he sealed his lips over hers, his tongue thrusting deep and hard as he claimed her. His hands were on fire as he tore at her shirt and threw it to the floor. She was too ready, too greedy, couldn’t wait to see the muscles that had saved her, that had protectively stalked her apartment. She grabbed both sides of his shirt and ripped with all her might. Buttons scattered. Logan laughed, a guttural, lustful laugh as he kissed a path down her neck and grazed his teeth over her collarbone and ground his hard length against her. She gave in to the need that had been buried for months and fumbled with the buttons on her jeans while he tore her bra from her body and took one of her breasts in his mouth. Forget the jeans, she buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her as he sucked and licked and tortured her hard nipple, sending heated anticipation between her legs.
“Oh God, Logan. It’s been so long.”
One strong hand rubbed her through her jeans. Her head tipped back with the delicious friction as he stroked her pussy and sucked her breast, driving her out of her fucking mind. More. She needed more. She was so wet, so close to the edge. She tugged at her jeans, needing them off. Logan made quick work of stripping her bare.
He sank to his knees and spread his hands on her thighs, then looked up at her. “Holy fuck, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure? I’m not forcing, I’m not—”
“Yes. Yes. God yes.”
She thrust her hips forward, and he obliged with vigor. Lord, did he oblige. His talented tongue swirled and stroked while his fingers rubbed her clit with deadly precision. She’d forgotten how good it felt to get lost in pleasure. Ripples of ecstasy rolled through her, taunting her. The orgasm was just out of reach. He took her clit between his teeth, and she cried out.
“I’ll stop.”
He was too goddamn careful.
“No! I want this.” She panted for breath. “Take me, Logan. Whatever I say, it’s okay. I want this. I want you.”
“Safe word. Red.”
Was he fucking for real? It’s not like he was tying her up and whipping her.
“I don’t need a safe word.”
“I do. You were attacked tonight. I need to know you have the power to stop me. I hear that word, I’ll stop. That’s my promise to you.”
She leveled him with a seductive narrow-eyed stare so he wouldn’t misunderstand. “Thank you, Boy Scout. Now please fuck me like you’ve never fucked anyone before.”
He thrust his fingers deep inside her, and she closed her eyes, luxuriating in exquisite pain and pleasure as his teeth found the sensitive bundle of nerves again. The tug of desire had her insides reaching for more as he probed and sucked and licked, turning her entire body into liquid heat, burning, aching. She felt her sex swell, craving more, just as he’d promised. She slammed her eyes shut. It had been so long since she’d felt these overwhelming sensations that her body wanted to remain in the heightened state, to revel in it. He did something incredible with his tongue, and her body surrendered to the molten desire. He lingered over her swollen sex, lapping, taking, keeping her at the peak until a tortured moan escaped her lips. Logan reared up and captured her cries in his mouth. He tasted of her, salty and sweet, as he claimed her mouth, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he devoured her, deepening the kiss as if he were memorizing the curve of every tooth. Their tongues found a rough, needy rhythm as he ground his cock against her, and the gritty fabric of his pants sent her reeling over the edge again.
She tugged and pushed at his jeans, needing him inside her. He stripped quickly and—holy mother of all things sexy, his body was a work of art. Planes of hard, muscular flesh stood before her. Broad shoulders led to a narrow waist, and sinfully sexy ripped abs ended in a thick, hard cock, a bead glistening on the tip. She licked her lips and moved to the edge of the bed, wrapping her fingers around his thick length. He had the most beautiful cock, with a nice, thick, round head, in perfect proportion to the hard, smooth shaft. She licked the wetness from the tip, earning herself a heady groan. His fingers fisted in her hair as she swirled her tongue over the head, then took him in deep. She stroked him hard and fast. His thighs flexed, and his hips thrust forward. She drew him out slowly and licked the base, then focused on his tight sac, earning her a growl that came from deep in his throat.
“Suck my cock,” he ground out.
She took him in again, working him with tight strokes. The tip met the back of her throat time and time again.
“That’s it. Fuck, that’s good.”
He guided her efforts, fisting her hair as his hips thrust faster. He grew impossibly bigger, and she knew he was close to release. She quickened her pace, wanting to pleasure him.
“Stop. I’m gonna come, and I want to be inside you.”
She drew him out slowly, cradling his balls and causing his head to tip back again. Torturing Logan made her feel empowered, and when his head dropped forward, his eyes nearly black, the look in them made her feel more desired than ever before.
“Can you come more than once?” Please tell me you can.
“Can you make me?”
She loved a challenge. Never had, until Kutcher had pushed her past her comfort zone. She forced thoughts of him away, unwilling to allow him to ruin any more of her night.
“Touch yourself while I fuck your mouth, darlin’. I want to see you come with me.”
What kind of skill did it take to say darlin’ and fuck your mouth in the same breath and make it sound like his big, strong arms were wrapped around her as he gazed into her eyes? It was like being fucked hard but feeling loved, and she’d never felt anything like it—and didn’t want it to end. She reached between her legs, and for a moment she had to close her eyes against the overwhelming sensations. She needed this release, this freedom from living with fear every minute of the day, and with just four days left before Kutcher got out of jail, she wasn’t going to miss a second of this gift she’d given herself. This time with Logan.
He grabbed the back of her head and guided her mouth around him, driving his hips forward as she stroked herself to the edge. He filled her mouth so completely she could barely breathe, heightening her pleasure. Tension wound around the backs of her thighs. The muscles in her back flexed as the orgasm coiled around her body like a snake, constricting, alighting every nerve, until it finally claimed her, pulsating tight and fast just as he groaned and thrust his cock deeper, spurting hot streams of salty semen down her throat. He held her head still as he rode the wave of his release, until she’d milked him dry, and his head fell forward with a loud exhalation.
He opened his eyes just as she licked her lips.
LOGAN KNELT BEFORE Stormy, his hands on her knees, and looked deeply into her eyes. He’d been with enough women to know she was using sex as an escape, just as he had for so many years. Being one of the US Navy’s elite SEAL team had taken his full concentration and total dedication, because Logan didn’t believe in just being good at anything. He believed in being the best at everything he did. That didn’t end with his profession. It carried over to relationships, sex, and even friendships. That’s why he’d never settled down with just one woman. He’d never met anyone whom he wanted to be the best for, and as he gazed into Stormy’s eyes and saw relief cloud over, hardening her beautiful features, he felt something in his chest crack open.
He gathered her in his arms and held her close, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “You’re amazing, but I just want to hold you.” Hold you? What the hell? It was her vulnerability that took his emotions to a place they’d never been. She was trying so hard to be strong, to be whatever she felt she needed to be. He wanted to know what or who would put so much fear into this beautiful woman.
Her body was rigid against him, but he wasn’t about to let her go. He couldn’t allow her to slip right back into that steel vault she kept herself trapped in. He came down on the bed beside her and pulled her up with him, his knee between her thighs, his arms circling her body so he could feel her erratic heartbeat against him.
“Whatever you’re running from, let’s not think about it right now. Put it aside. For tonight, you’re safe.” He felt tension, fatigue, and so much unwanted emotion pent up in her that he wanted to give her a break. One night of peace, just like he and his brothers took turns trying to give their mother every night of the week. The feeling of safety, of knowing no one would ever hurt her again. When his mother had been attacked, and his father killed, Logan’s life had changed. He’d been protecting his country when the attack had happened, when he should have been home protecting the people he loved most.
“Just fuck me, Logan. Do it so we’re both satisfied. Then you can go back to your life. Just give me this one night.” Her words were hard but full of need, as if she were challenging herself as well as him.
“I will, babe. Just be with me a minute. Let yourself relax.” He didn’t know what was going on inside of him, but for the first time in his life he didn’t want a quick fuck. He knew the minute he walked out that door, Stormy would consume his thoughts. He’d worry about her. How could he not? With eyes that cut straight to the center of his chest, pleading and arguing in equal measure.
She laughed against his chest. “Relax? That’s not going to happen, so either fuck me or leave.”
He pulled back then and searched her eyes. “Do you really want me to leave?”
“No. I want you inside me so I can forget my life for another few minutes.”
“Babe, I can last longer than a few minutes, but how about first I hold you until you realize you can trust me? I’m really not into fucking people who don’t trust me.”
“Really? You came in my mouth pretty easily.”
She had him there. “Touché. What do you have against relaxing?”
“When you relax, bad things can happen.” She pushed away, and he pulled her closer again, smoothed her hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead.
“Not while I’m around.”
“So…what? You want me to relax, then have sex with you?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Or relax and don’t. Whatever.”
She cocked her head to the side, and he wondered how many men had hurt her, how many had treated her like shit. She touched her fingertip to the roundish scar on the right side of his chest, then traced the fine white line that ran along his ribs to the next, like she was connecting the dots.
“What happened?” She gazed up. Her brows knitted together, and he could see she was softening toward him again.
He shrugged. “I only give that out on a need-to-know basis, but I’d be willing to swap an answer for an answer.”
He didn’t like to talk about his scars, and he didn’t like to talk about his time with the SEALs. It reminded him too much of the man he’d lost while he was gone. His father had tried so hard to talk him out of becoming a SEAL. It’s dangerous. You’re too smart to spend your life getting shot at. Stay home, buddy boy. But Logan had something to prove, though he never knew whom he was proving it to other than himself. He’d won the Silver Star, the Purple Heart, the Combat Action Ribbon, and a few more awards, but nothing would make up for fighting for someone else’s life while his parents were fighting for their own. He didn’t regret protecting his country, but he regretted not being around for his family when they needed him most, and he swore he’d never put anyone above those he loved again.
“Okay,” she whispered. “You first. How did you get this scar?” She pressed her lips to the scar on his chest.
“Bullet wound. I was a Navy SEAL. It was a night mission. I got four of their guys. They got one lucky shot. Then I killed two more.” He watched her process the information. Her eyes dropped to the scar, and her finger slid lightly over it.
“Were you scared?”
He hadn’t even known he’d been shot until he’d lost so much blood that he could no longer pull the trigger on his gun. He’d been in the midst of combat. Adrenaline had dulled his ability to feel pain and heightened his ability to perform.
“Only of not seeing my family again.” He’d never admitted that to anyone, and as the words came, a lump formed in his throat. “Who are you running from?” he asked to distract himself from the painful memory.
She shook her head, closed her eyes.
“Okay.” He softened his voice, understanding just how deep her wounds went. “Are you running from the law, or for your life?”
She lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. He watched the skin on her neck pull tight as she swallowed.
“For my life.” A whisper.
A whisper that cut like a knife.
Logan lay on his side. He slid his knee up over her thighs and curled his left arm around her head, then leaned in close so his body blanketed the left side of hers, and he pressed his hand to her cheek, holding her face to his chest. He didn’t say anything at first. He wanted her to feel safe. His mother hadn’t wanted to share her fear with her sons after the attack that left her blind. Late one night Logan had relentlessly pursued the truth, peppering her with questions, and when she’d finally told him how she’d been too scared to call out for help and his father had risen from bed and charged the menacing burglar without fear—and the stranger had shot him twice in the chest, then savagely beat her, leaving her blind and barely breathing—he’d seen the fear come rushing back. That was three years ago, and Logan knew that although her fear had lessened, it would never fully disappear.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“I made a bad choice in a boyfriend.”
“What has he done to you?”
He felt wetness on his fingers and looked down at the tears slipping from her eyes. He brushed them away with his thumb and pressed his lips to her forehead. Seeing her like this made his chest feel tight and achy. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered feeling this way when his mother had confided in him. Anger born from the memory of his mother’s tears began to replace the ache.
“Your turn,” she whispered as she stroked his cheek.
Stormy’s voice brought him back from the memory.
Her hand was soft and warm, and her touch was tender as she ran a finger along his jaw, down his neck to his chest, hesitating for a few seconds at the scar over his right pec. She followed the thin white scar that mapped a path to the second, lower patch of marred skin. “This? Did you get it while you were a SEAL?”
He opened his mouth to lie, but no words came. He was usually so good at avoiding intimate questions. When women asked about his scars, he shrugged and said, Life’s a bitch. Sometimes it leaves scars. He didn’t want to feed Stormy that line. She was sharing her secrets, and he felt compelled to share his.
“No,” he admitted.
She pressed her palm to the scar and held his gaze. “How, then?”
His breathing came harder as the night he’d tracked down his parents’ attacker came back to him and played like a horror movie in his head. He wanted to run from the memory, from the tightening in his chest. He wanted to forget the way they’d had to pry him off the man’s limp body as he pummeled him with his fists while blood poured from the bullet wound in his gut.
He gazed down at Stormy again and saw the softening of the walls that had separated them only moments ago, and he wanted in.
“Getting a bad guy out of the way.”
“Did you get shot?” She pressed closer to him, as if she thought he needed to be comforted more than she did.
“Yes.” He tried to caress the tension lines from her cheek, but the more her eyes scrutinized him, the more pronounced they became.
“Were you scared?”
He dropped his head between his shoulders and closed his eyes for a beat.
“Terrified.” The admission felt like a thousand pounds had fallen from his shoulders.
“Of dying?” she whispered.
“No.” He raised his eyes to hers. “Of dying before I killed him.”
She stared at him then for a long time, and the air between them didn’t heat with passion the way it had been doing since they met, but it shifted. In those few seconds Logan felt his world tilt, their answers tethering them together. When she lifted her head and pressed her lips to his, he let her control the intensity, pulling her closer, wanting more of her, but not wanting to put any more fear into her head than she already had. She kissed him tenderly, planting soft kisses along his lower lip. He closed his eyes and lowered himself to his back, wanting, needing to be touched. She pressed her hands to his cheeks and slanted her lips over his, deepening the kiss, until it felt like salvation. She kissed him hungrily, and he met her efforts, as if they each could provide redemption to the other. Him from his past, her for a future. He couldn’t hold back. He wanted to claim that redemption, to claim her as his own. In one swift move he swept her beneath him and spread her legs with his knees, the tip of his arousal pressed against her swollen, wet flesh.
“Condom,” he breathed against her lips.
“I’m on the pill.”
He knew he should be worried about STDs, but he wasn’t. For the first time in his life sex felt like more than just a release, and he wanted to feel every bit of her velvety heat. He wanted to possess the woman who’d kissed him like he was hers—and damn did he want to be hers.
But he needed her to have peace of mind.
“I’m clean, Stormy. Tested religiously every thirty days.”
“Fuck me, Logan.”
That stopped him cold, and he drew back, pinning her to the mattress with his eyes alone. “No.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. Disappointment. Not fear, not annoyance. He knew this was different for her, too.
“I want to make love to you.”
Her mouth dropped open, and for a moment he thought he’d fucked up, misread everything.
“Yes,” she whispered. She pressed on the back of his hips, guiding his throbbing cock inside her.
He pushed in until he was buried to the hilt, then stilled at their first joining. Her lips curled up in a smile, and for the first time, her smile reached her eyes. His chest grew tight at the look in her eyes, a different type of tightening than anger or regret, and he never wanted to lose this feeling. He sealed his lips over hers as they moved in perfect sync. Her hips met his deep, slow thrusts. He was in no hurry to find his release. Logan kissed her jaw, her neck, settled his teeth over her shoulder and bit down, earning him a sexy moan. Her hips bucked off the mattress. He laced his fingers with hers, holding her hands beside her head so he could gaze into her eyes as her body swallowed his hard length time and time again. Her body arched toward him. Her soft curves molded to his strength. The warmth of her soft flesh was intoxicating.
“Logan…” A heady whisper.
“Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head, nibbled her lower lip. “You feel incredible. So big. So…good.” Her eyes filled with lust, surprise, and unfathomable beauty. “I’m going to….”
With his next thrust, she slammed her eyes shut. Her legs flexed, and her fingernails dug into the backs of his hands.
“That’s it, darlin’. Come for me. Come for us.”
Her eyes flew open, and he saw confusion in her gaze, and hell if he wasn’t confused, too, but he felt something, and he wasn’t about to ignore it. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel it again.
He sealed his mouth over hers, grinding his hips in a circular motion, stroking all the nerves that kept her at the peak of her release, until she tore her mouth away with the need for air. Seeing her in the heat of ecstasy, her lips parted, eyes closed, hair spread out around her, was too much. A fine sheen of sweat between her breasts met his chest as he thrust deeper. He was lost in the pulsing heat around his cock, as they spiraled over the edge together, clawing for purchase wherever they could grab hold. Her legs locked around his waist as she mewed into his mouth, tightening around him, unwilling to set him free. Not that he wanted to be freed. Hell no. He was exactly where he wanted to be, buried deep inside the woman who finally made him feel again.