Logan took the fact that they’d been on their trip for an entire week, without killing each other, as a good sign.

More than not killing each other, they’d gotten closer. He’d fought against it the first few days, still angry at their past, but when he’d let that go, they’d done well. In fact, Beth was almost a different person.

When they first met in Freehope, she’d been flirty and sassy. She still had the sass, but the constant flirting was toned down considerably. He missed it, if he was honest. There was a certain sparkle in her eye that she wasn’t showing him for some reason. That sparkle tended to keep him on his toes. When he saw it, he knew that she was up to something and he had to have his guard up, waiting for her to pounce. Now she looked almost solemn at times. He wasn’t sure if it was his situation that was making her act that way or if that was just who Beth really was. Maybe the flirting was the mask she wore, and he’d fallen for that person instead of who she really was.

He shook his head as they strolled Navy Pier in Chicago. That wasn’t it. He hadn’t fallen for the fake Beth, the flirty Beth. He hadn’t fallen for her at all. He was starting to think he’d fallen for the sex and fun of it all, instead of the person she was.

The Beth he was with now was a million times more interesting than the person he’d thought she was. She was introspective at times and intelligent, studying everything around her. She was a major people-watcher, noting everyone around them and noticing things he’d never see: the woman who was struggling with a baby where Beth helped unfold her stroller or the man who dropped his credit card that she returned.

There were so many things he hadn’t known about her, and he found them all more than interesting. He found them endearing.

He was starting to think that his love-at-first-sight story had been nothing more than lust.

He hated to admit that because he’d been the one to sell her that story so many times, but he might have to eat his words. What was love at first sight anyway, he asked himself. Was it truly love? Could you truly love someone you just met?

The answer was no, and he knew that now. He hadn’t loved her.

He liked to think that his soul recognized her instantly, and maybe that was what triggered the love. But as far as loving her for who she was, he hadn’t considered that aspect of it.

Love was never so easy as just falling, was it?

The weather in Chicago was nice for later March and they strolled, not hand in hand, but still side by side. They’d spent the past two nights tangled up in each other, naked and in bed together, but with no sex. He’d wanted to touch her, desperately, but there had been something holding him back.

His damn missing leg. She’d called it that night in Indiana, asking him if it was nerves, and it was. It pissed him off nearly as much as it embarrassed him, but Beth took it in stride.

She didn’t pressure him or ask for more than he could give in that situation. She was just there for him, steadfast and understanding. That was the Beth he didn’t know.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall for her. He wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. This Beth was different somehow. They were both different people: him without his leg and her without that flippant mask on. He’d seen through it immediately, but he’d still let her snow him. He’d been blinded by his desire for her that he didn’t see how deep her camouflage went.

His mistake.

Eating crow never tasted good, but the revelation sank deep inside him, and he liked to think he’d finally started to see her more clearly.

“Owen and I came here once or twice when we were in basic,” he told her, starting their conversation back up. They’d been talking about nothing in particular, just how the week had been going and how much of the country they’d seen.

“I’ve never been this far inland,” she told him. “I always seem to stick to the coast.”

“You must be part mermaid,” he said, picturing her in the water with a tail, swimming freely. “Maybe a siren,” he corrected.

“Luring men to their doom?” she asked, her brows drawn down, clearly not liking the idea. “Is that how you see me?”

“I meant the irresistible part,” he said, throwing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. “I can picture you out there, basking in the sun on a rock, and men flocking to you, jumping off their ships without a care, just to get to you.”

“No thanks,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around his waist.

It threw his gait off a little until they fell into step, his prosthetic still not completely a part of him. He still felt wooden when he walked, trying to relearn how to be himself in some ways.

“There’s only one sailor I want to lure to my deserted island,” she continued.

He took the hint and pulled her a little closer.

The last few days had been interesting. They’d become almost a couple, an unspoken bond bringing them closer and putting them squarely into a place that wasn’t neutral, by any means. Hell, they’d spent those nights in each other’s arms. If that didn’t put them into a romantic category, he didn’t know what would.

So, instead of dwelling on it, he was just rolling with it.

They could spend the entire trip being together, for all he cared. He wanted to be with her and spend that time with her.

He just wasn’t sure where that would leave them in the end.

After all, she was the one that always said she wasn’t the woman for him. What had made her suddenly change her mind? Could it have been the situation with his leg? That’s when she’d come running back to him, ready to be the woman he needed.

He suddenly looked down at her, wondering at her motives.

“What made you come to Connecticut?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

She didn’t meet his gaze, taking in the scenery as she mulled his question.

“I’ve been out at sea since Owen and Andy got married. Something about trying to come back to shore and starting my life just made me sick to my stomach. So, I stayed out and only called once in a while. I could tell they were hiding something. Pissed me off royally, but I thought it was something trivial, you know. I didn’t know it was something so serious. My last trip wasn’t great. Actually, it was the worst contract I’ve ever done. I’ll never go back out to sea.”

Beth loved her work, loved the ships she was on and the people. She’d told him many times, regaled him with stories of her coworkers and their adventures.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, shaking her head.

He stopped walking, pulling her to a stop. Her instant shutdown raising red flags.

“Did something happen out there, Sugar?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes and something inside his chest shifted. Beth was a secret keeper. The things she felt deeply she kept bottled up inside and close to her heart. She didn’t talk to him about how she felt about her mother’s death, not without prying anyway. She talked about her life and the things she did, but how she felt about them? Those things she guarded with her life.

Her entire demeanor had changed. Simply asking about her last trip had caused her to close up on him.

He dragged her to a bench and let people pass them by, all the while watching her. She studiously avoided looking at him, taking in the horizon as though something out there might save her from the conversation they were going to have if he had any say.

“Beth,” he prodded.

She took a steadying breath, almost shoring herself up in preparation.

“One of my bosses…he got a little handsy,” she admitted, still not meeting his eyes, her shoulder hitching up in what was probably supposed to be a negligent shrug.

Logan felt himself go still for a single second before his hand tightened over hers.

“Handsy?” He was deadly calm, his voice even and steady. Inside, he felt a rage wash over him.

Someone had dared to touch her?

“Please don’t make a big deal about it?” she whispered. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tell me what handsy means,” he insisted.

She looked at him then, her eyes rolling in his direction.

“It means exactly what you think it means.”

“He touched you somewhere he shouldn’t have without your permission,” he said on a breath. “Tell me he got kicked off the ship, Sugar. Tell me you got his ass fired for violating your personal space.”

She shook her head. “He was my supervisor. There was no one to tell.”

He wanted to argue. There was always someone to tell. Her supervisor had to have a supervisor that would have thrown that man’s sorry ass off the ship the second Beth came forward.

But, he didn’t argue.

He’d learned, at a young age, that women and their privacy needed a delicate hand. His own mother, a victim of domestic abuse, didn’t come forward for years. Not because she wasn’t strong or smart, but because she didn’t feel that she could.

Because the abuse and the abuser had made her feel powerless. Her inner strength, lodged so deep, had taken his mother a long time to harness.

He knew Beth was just as strong, but this man had tried to take that from her.

Fury coursed through his veins.

Someone not only touched his woman, but they did it without her permission. They took away her right to consent.

And they tried to take her backbone along with them.

Without worrying about where they might end up in the future or what their label was, he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Sugar,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you say something? You could have called me. I would have done something.”

She pulled away from him, no tears in her eyes, just a look that screamed that he was a raging hypocrite.

“Like you called me when you got hurt? I didn’t hear about it until four months had gone by. Hell, you wouldn’t even return my calls when I did try to get in touch and I know damn well, you weren’t in country. You could have picked up but you didn’t.”

“That’s different,” he insisted.

“Why? Because you want me to need you, but don’t want to need me back?” She shook her head and stood, not angry so much but bleeding frustration. “And P.S., I did call. You didn’t answer.”

There was his humble pie again, tasting like ashes in his mouth.

He’d spent so long blaming her for everything that had gone wrong with them, that he hadn’t spent a lot of time looking at himself. He’d been distant with her, keeping her at arm’s length instead of letting her in.

What kind of person tells someone they should have called when they were in trouble, but didn’t answer the call when it came in?

Logan propped his elbows on his thighs and put his head in his hands. There was only one bottom line, and that was that he’d failed her. In every way possible, he’d failed her.

She sat next to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He let out a humorless chuckle and lifted his head, holding in a glare that wasn’t directed at her.

“You’re sorry? For what?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” she explained. “I knew you wouldn’t take it well. Not that I’d expect you to. I haven’t told my sisters, either. With Andy’s past, I didn’t want to dredge up any old feelings for her because it’s not nearly the same thing.”

“It is the same thing,” he argued. “And just because it went further with Andy, doesn’t negate what happened to you.”

She nodded, like she agreed, but he wasn’t sure she really did. Her hand was warm where it still rested on his back, and he felt ridiculous, having her comfort him in the situation.

But there was something moving between them, their eyes locked. Her bright blue eyes glowed in the sun that bounced off the water around them. Her cheeks were pink from the breeze, and she was watching him with something he’d liken to affection.

He hoped she saw the same thing when she looked into his eyes, because that’s what he felt for her. There was a genuine affection for her and the person she was turning out to be.

“Do you feel any better, now that you know?” she asked quietly.

“I feel better when you aren’t keeping secrets from me,” he countered.

She looked away and her wordlessness signaled that she had more secrets up her sleeve.

He wouldn’t push her. This conversation had been a push and he shouldn’t have done it. He was glad to know the things she’d gone through, but his methods had the potential to damage what they had growing between them.

“I want to tell you everything,” she admitted. “I want you to see why I run all the time. Why I’m so scared to show you who I really am.”

“I see who you are, Beth. I’m very fond of who you are.”

Her lips twitched up into a small smile. “I appreciate that.” Though she didn’t sound confident in his statement. “I’m just not ready yet.”

He leaned back, pulling her with him, until they sat next to each other on the bench, his arm over her shoulder.

“That’s okay,” he told her. “We can cross that bridge if we come to it.”

If.

Not when, but if.

* * *

The following week brought a change between them. The tension in the air broke, like a thunderstorm had blown over them at Navy Pier in Chicago and swept its way across the landscape.

After that, they’d spent another night in Chicago, then headed out, proceeding with their trip. They’d spent a few days passing through Nebraska and then Colorado, enjoying a leisurely day or two in each.

It got warmer the farther south they drove and the later into spring it got. April dawned as they crossed into New Mexico, their last stop before their final destination of the Grand Canyon.

They still hadn’t had sex. Hell, they’d barely even fooled around.

Ever since she’d told him about her sleazy boss feeling her up, Logan had treated her like she was as delicate as a newly spun spiderweb. She was nearing her wits end, on the razor’s edge of longing all the time. What the hell did it take to get the man to ravish her?

In her infinite wisdom, she’d decided to put the ball in his court, letting him take the lead where intimacy was concerned. She got the feeling he’d had the same thought and was waiting for her.

Despite the fact that she was as sexually frustrated as she’d ever been in her life, they’d had a good week. They’d talked a lot about the things they enjoyed in life and where they saw themselves in the future.

As she looked out the passenger window, watching the dry New Mexico plains pass by, she listened to him talk about the things he wanted in life.

The weight of her sadness pressed against her shoulders, making her sink further into her seat.

“Kids,” he said, reiterating what she already knew. “I didn’t have much of a father growing up. He wasn’t a good guy.” Logan paused and Beth gave him the time he needed. He didn’t talk much about his family life or what growing up had been like for him. He talked about his mother and how she’d raised him, but he rarely mentioned his father. “He hit my mom,” he admitted. “A lot.”

He didn’t say anything after that and when she glanced at him, his jaw was clenched, his fingers tight on the steering wheel.

Beth said nothing, waiting him out.

Logan could talk. He could talk about life and the things he saw around them. He was well-versed in history and politics, and had no problems having a reasonable and intelligent discussion about numerous subjects.

When his father came up, he became tight-lipped. His words became choppy, his sentences stilted. She knew if she interrupted, even to ask a question, he might shut down and not say anything at all.

This was the third time this week he’d started talking about his parents’ relationship. The other times, he’d abruptly changed the subject to something easier when she’d asked a question, and she’d let him.

This time, she was going to make him finish. So instead of prodding him along, she stayed quiet.

Hell, they still had hours to go in the drive. He could be as quiet as he wanted.

He drove for a few miles before he started up again, his words coming out like staccato gunfire, short and brisk.

“She loved him. In the beginning. That’s what she always told me. He wasn’t a bad man. I didn’t see it, but that’s what she always said. From as far back as I could remember, he hit her. And she just took it. I never understood. My mother, this woman that was take no prisoners, in charge of everything around her, and ruled with an iron fist, just took it. Because he could be a good man, she said. He wasn’t a good man,” he said again. “He never was when I knew him and he probably still isn’t.”

Beth’s head turned in his direction. From the way he talked, she’d always assumed his father was dead.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” she asked quietly.

“Twenty-five years,” he said with a shrug. “I was six or seven when she finally kicked him out and didn’t let him come back. Things were better after that. My mama is a strong woman, but that man tried to make her nothing. I’ve got no respect for a man that tries to pull a woman down just because he thinks he’s stronger.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, thinking about her boss groping her. She’d been coming out of the staff locker room of the ship’s gym when he’d cornered her. He’d pushed her into a corner, quite literally, his chest and pelvis pressing her back until she was sandwiched between him and the wall. He’d reached up and yanked her top down, hard enough that the straps of her tank dug into her shoulders, the thread creaking under the pressure.

She shook her head, trying to erase the memory and let it go.

“Anyway,” Logan continued, unaware of the memories that were running through her mind. “I want kids, because I want the chance to be a better father than the one I got. I want to have kids so I can show them love and kindness, and get it in return. Simple as that.”

Simple as that, she thought.

She wanted the same thing, but for different reasons. She wanted kids because she’d been loved so deeply by her parents; she wanted the chance to do the same. She wanted to be the kind of mother she’d had: generous and warm. She wanted the chance to catch her kids sneaking in the window after curfew and show them the kind of compassion her mother had. She wanted to be like Andy, close with her children, but firm and fair.

“You’ll be a great father, Logan,” she whispered, the knot in her throat like a fist, tightening on every word.

He would be a great father, she had no doubt.

Unfortunately, he’d have to do it with someone else. He might not be sure, but she was. She wouldn’t ever have any children, her dream of motherhood nothing more than a tumbleweed, blowing across the road in front of her on a strong breeze.

In her immature youth, she’d thought she’d known everything. Seeing her mother die, watching her waste away to nothing, Beth had decided that she’d never want to go through that. She’d never want to put her children through that, make them watch her die a slow and painful death. Without much forethought, she’d had a hysterectomy. It had been relatively painless at the time, her decision cutting her chances of getting ovarian cancer down considerably.

Andy and Alex had thought she was crazy. They’d tried to talk her out of it many times, but ultimately, she’d gone ahead with it. Being sisters, they’d stuck by her. Well, Andy had. She’d stayed with her for a few days until she’d healed. Lexi had been furious. She’d railed at Beth for weeks before the procedure, accusing her of being too casual about her future. She’d even tried to talk her into freezing her eggs for the future, but Beth hadn’t listened.

Tears burned her eyes as she thought about how stupid and rash she’d been.

Now, she had nothing. She’d never carry her own children and she didn’t have any of her own eggs frozen if the need ever arose.

Logan wanted a normal family. He wasn’t going to be interested in dealing with fertility clinic bullshit when he did eventually want to have kids.

He deserved to do things the old-fashioned way. He wanted to see a woman grow heavy with his baby. He wanted to rub someone’s stomach while his baby grew inside, and that would never be her.

It could never be her.

She wanted to tell him, but after he’d just opened up about his father, it didn’t seem the right time.

Besides, they weren’t even sleeping together, let alone in a relationship. It seemed presumptuous to think something like that would matter to him at that point, so she said nothing, pushing it back down deep where it belonged.

They passed a sign on the highway and she perked up. She pointed at the next exit. “Get off here.”

“A flea market?” he asked dubiously. “You already bought a bunch of crap everywhere we’ve stopped. What could you possibly need now?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Just stop, Doc.”

She liked to call him by his nickname. Not all the time, but once in a while when she said it, he smiled at her. Almost like hearing her say it erased some of his annoyance. A situation like this one, where he complained about stopping again, was the perfect time to use it.

“No more junk,” he insisted as he got to the end of the off-ramp. They followed the signs until they reached a large dirt parking lot.

It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for and within thirty minutes, they were loaded down with discounted camping gear.

“I can’t believe you got all this stuff for so cheap,” he marveled as they loaded it all in the trunk of the car, his arms bulging. They’d been working out together every morning. Even if it was a simple no-gym workout, they’d done it.

She’d talked the lady at the flea market down from one-hundred-and-fifty bucks to just seventy-five. They’d scored not just a four-person tent but a cooking stove, two sleeping bags, two folding chairs, a table, a couple tarps, and fishing gear.

“Now, we just need to find somewhere to camp,” she said with a laugh.

She did not want to think about the fact that ultimately, Logan wanted kids but she couldn’t have any. Every time she came back to that thought, the realization that everything he wanted in life, she couldn’t provide, she deflected it. She wiped it out and put a smile on her face. She banished it, finding the first thing in sight that would take her mind off the subject.

It was at the very root of every quick escape she’d made from him over the last year. It was the reason she ran so fast and so hard, because she knew, no matter what, she wasn’t the woman for him.

If she put on a brave face—for her that meant a flirty smile—she could push all those feelings deep down where no one could touch them. She’d keep everything on the surface.

When she’d seen the sign for the flea market right next to one for a campground, it had seemed like a sign. Instantly, she could banish those thoughts and get back to who she was.

She sent Logan a wink as she closed the lid of the trunk. “You are up for camping, aren’t you?” she asked in challenge.

“I’ve slept under the stars more nights than I can count,” he returned. “How about you, Miss Fancy Luxury Liner. Think you can hack it in the woods?”

“There’s no woods here,” she told him. “Just lots of rocks and bushes. It’ll be awfully hard to find somewhere to skinny-dip like I’m used to.”

The comment caught his attention as it was meant to.

“Skinny-dipping?” he questioned, eyeing her with open interest. “Like you’re used to? Where are you doing all this skinny-dipping?”

She laughed, liking the lighthearted banter. It was far easier than everything else, for the moment.

“If you’re good, I might just tell you,” she said, heading to the passenger door and sliding in. Tucker’s car was looking a little worse for wear, trash on the floors and food wrappers here and there. Beth wrinkled her nose. “First, I think we need to hit a car wash. Poor Tucker won’t want to take this car back when we’re through with it.”

Logan got behind the wheel and took the mess in. “Could be worse,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve lived with guys in closer quarters than this that were messier.”

Beth scoffed. “I’m not a guy,” she corrected. “And I’ve spent years in close quarters. The only way to make it bearable is to keep it clean. Otherwise, it’s just gross.”

“True,” he agreed. “Car wash it is. Though I don’t think it’ll do much for the outside of the car with all this dust.”

They talked for a while about the land around them, marveling at the rock faces they passed as they entered the nearest campground. They were somewhere between Santa Fe and Albuquerque, closing in on their final destination.

It had been a fun two weeks, but Beth knew their time together was coming to an end.

She was going to tell him this time. Before she left, before they called it quits for the last time, she was going to tell him why she ran and why she wasn’t the woman for him.

Her heart jerked in her chest as they rolled into their campsite and began unloading their things.

Surprisingly, the tent was in good shape and it went up easily. They worked well together, quiet and efficient, getting everything set up.

Without questioning why, when Logan was setting up their chairs and table, Beth stepped into the tent and undressed.

This was their swan song, she was sure. Even if things went well, ultimately she couldn’t provide the things he wanted in life.

That was going to have to be okay for now.

If this was all the time they had—this road trip and the Grand Canyon—she would take it. If nothing else, he’d finally seen her for who she was. She’d shown him her true self, minus one major detail, but he knew she wasn’t just the little sister of Andy Walker. She wasn’t just a traveling, free spirit.

She was an independent woman who had brains and brawn. She was a woman who liked to read and work out, though not at the same time. She was a woman who knew how to love a man deeply, even if she couldn’t tell him that.

She could show him.

When her clothes were all stripped off and she was bare, she called his name quietly.

The look on his face, when he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, sent a hot shiver rippling from her core. While it had the ability to stroke her ego, it was instead, humbling. It wasn’t about how great she did or didn’t look, or the strength of desire that she invoked in him.

It was how deeply his desire ran when he walked toward her, a man clearly on a mission. It could have felt empowering to wield such a thing, but instead the heat in his eyes washed her with a soothing balm of comfort.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, coming into the tent and zipping it quickly behind him. “Anyone could have seen you.”

She didn’t look away from his face as his green eyes roved along her flesh. His hair was longer now, just brushing past his ears and in the last two weeks, he’d gotten a good start on a beard. It grew in brown, a nice contrast with the blond of his hair and they went together nicely.

He looked stronger somehow, his cheeks filled in and the color back in his face.

The trip had been good for him, she knew. It might kill her in the end, but it would be worth it for him to look so healthy at the end.

“Take off your clothes,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Beth, it’s the middle of the damn day. There are people around.”

She shook her head. “There’s no one in any of the campsites around us. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the day. I need you, Logan.”

Her quietly spoken words, coming out like a plea, struck their mark. Logan grabbed a handful of his shirt behind his head and flung it off to the side. With quick fingers, he unbuttoned his jeans but hesitated in pulling them off.

“Let me see you,” she implored. “All of you. Please.”

She needed to see him. He needed to let go of his worry over his leg and how other people were going to see it.

He hesitated only another second before finally sliding them down his hips. He was leaner than he used to be, but still firm and hard in all the right places. She eyed him hungrily, not caring if he saw how deep her desire for him ran.

When his pants caught on his prosthetic, she could see the frustration on his face. Without hesitation, she went to her knees before him. She wrapped her hands around his thigh and she slid them down, taking his pants along with them. He stepped out of them when she instructed him to lift his feet, one at a time, and she threw the pants aside, looking up at him from her place on the floor.

“I feel ridiculous,” he said, his honesty cracking her heart open wide. His erection, just a moment ago harder than steel, now softening before her eyes.

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his as she rubbed her hands up and down his legs. Sometimes she touched the prosthetic, even though he couldn’t feel it. Sometimes she kept her hands on his skin.

“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,” she admitted.

He let out a humorless laugh, his lips turned down in a grimace. “Sure.”

She raised up to her knees and rubbed her face on him, her forehead gliding along his hip as she nuzzled his body. It wasn’t necessity about his dick or sex, but he needed to feel her, skin to skin and he let her do it, his fingers finally finding their way to her hair and tunneling against her scalp. She caressed him with her hands and face, just letting the constant contact bring him back into the moment.

Her breasts rubbed against his legs, the prosthetic not nearly as cold as she thought it would be. He seemed less bothered as the minutes ticked by, his inhibitions falling away the more turned-on he got.

She wanted him in her mouth, but didn’t want to rush him either. It was important to her that she take her time. Much like the trip itself, if it was the only time she was going to get with him, she was going to savor it.

“Beth,” he muttered on a gasp as she nibbled the thin skin of his hip.

“Hmm,” she hummed, her hands roaming up to his chest and back down again. This time, she grabbed him and gave him a long stroke.

His hands tightened on her head, his hips thrusting forward. She took the invitation and wrapped her lips around him, savoring everything she had missed about him in the last months and everything they’d worked up to in the last few weeks.

This was their sweet spot. This they were good at, and it felt more intimate than ever before.

He swept his hands together, gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail, and thrust into her mouth. Not hard, not enough to be considered rough, but she knew what he wanted. She increased her speed and pressure, letting him feel her tongue working the underside of him.

He let out a growled moan and Beth slid her mouth off and tipped her head back.

“Take the leg off,” she told him, darting her tongue out and lashing his tip.

“For what?”

“Take it off or I put my clothes back on,” she told him brazenly.

“I don’t like ultimatums,” he argued, while reaching down to peel off the silicone and remove the leg, using her shoulders for balance.

It was hard to find the words to express to him that she loved him with or without his real leg. She couldn’t say the words out loud, they’d do nothing for them but cause pain, but she could show him. She could take the leg out of the equation and show him that it made no difference in how they came together.

“I just want you, Logan. I want you with me. Here and now. This,” she said, pointing at the leg, “is just physical. It has nothing to do with what we’re doing here.”

It was so true, it almost didn’t make any sense. Of course, making love was a physical act. At its very core, it was corporal and of the flesh.

But what they were doing went far beyond just physicality, and the moment the words came out of her mouth, she knew he understood. This was no lusty frenzy as they’d experienced before.

This was soul-searing stares and uncharted intimacy. They didn’t need pieces and parts of their bodies, they just needed themselves. Wholly and fully present with each other and nothing more.

Logan shook his head. “I can’t do this again, Sugar. I can’t get in so deep with you that I can’t dig my way out.”

“I’m right here with you,” she admitted, taking his hand and pulling him down with her.

He came over her, his prosthetic forgotten off to the side as he covered her with his body.

“I want you,” he said, his voice husky. “I want us. This last two weeks…” he let the thought trail off.

The last two weeks had been eye-opening. They’d gotten to know each other, and Beth was certain now that she loved this man, not because their chemistry told her, but because she knew him.

“Me too,” she whispered, pulling him so their lips met. His skin was hot against hers, April’s low rolling heat warming their bodies.

There wasn’t a long bout of foreplay, their contact during the trip enough of a lead-in, that when he finally pressed himself inside her, Beth grasped at his shoulders. He was hot and steely, her insides gripping him and welcoming him home.

He stilled, his hips pressed tightly against hers, and raised himself up on his hands. Looking down at her, he pressed again, watching her reaction as the contact sent a zing of fire through her belly.

Pleased, he did it again, his lips tipping up in satisfaction. By the fifth or sixth time, she was nearly tipping over the edge into oblivion. Logan, for his part, didn’t seem to be having any problems physically working around his missing leg, his hips slowly thrusting against hers.

When he lowered himself and pressed his face into her neck, their bodies touching from head to toe, she let go, her arms wrapped around him, holding him as close as she could. Within moments, he was trying to pull away, ready to finish.

It didn’t matter anyway. She couldn’t get pregnant so it would make no real difference. She held him close and saw the question in his eyes.

“I’m protected,” she said simply.

He most likely assumed that to mean she was on birth control and she didn’t correct him. At her go-ahead, he slammed into her a few more times, her holding on tightly to him, and then pressed hard against her, letting out that shaky moan she’d missed so much.