Chapter 6
Graham Cole stood at the front of the fishing boat, watching as the captain, Dan Mulroney, skillfully guided it from the waters of the Atlantic Ocean into the harbor at Sentinel Island, Maine. The desperate flight from his house at Arrowhead Bay, the business with the Princess Devon, then the disjointed journey from Florida to Maine, broken up to avoid leaving a trace, had been both physically and mentally exhausting. After all the hours on the boat he was sure he carried the aroma of fish with him, but he didn’t care. His journey was almost over.
He stood now on the deck of this boat wearing new clothes that suited his new personality and new name. If he had set out to deliberately find a place as his safe haven, this would have been his perfect choice. The island was a tiny spit of land in the Atlantic Ocean within throwing distance of Eastport, the northernmost port on the East Coast, settled by a family from England more than three hundred years ago who had originally thought they’d reached the mainland. When they discovered they were a few casting reels short of their destination, they decided to call the place Sentinel Island, standing guard over those ports actually part of the mainland.
The population of just over one thousand souls had been static for the past one hundred years. There was always someone from one of the families who stayed to fish the waters of the North Atlantic or guide the tourists who came to whale watch or ferry a batch of half-drunk fishermen out for the big catch.
Most of the men wore their hair a little shaggy, hugging their shirt collars, and a beard of some kind, to keep their faces warm in the chilly weather of winter, which seemed to stretch for ten months. A tourist, taking pictures, had once said if you lined all the men up side by side you’d never be able to tell who was who or which was which. That was exactly what Graham wanted.
When his corporation had begun to bleed red ink after his wife’s death, Graham hadn’t known what to do. It was accounting whiz Vince who’d suggested Cole International get an investor. On a Saturday sail, he’d shown Graham all the benefits and how it could save the corporation. And suggested he quietly look around, maybe with someone he trusted, to find such a person.
When Graham had discovered the true source of the money and wanted to pull out, Vince had convinced him that was too dangerous. He’d reminded him of news stories detailing the way cartels dealt with people who crossed or displeased them.
He didn’t fool himself into thinking his problem was solved this easily. Moreno would never stop looking for him. His only recourse was to use what he had to take the man and his cartel down. Even then there would always be people looking for him. He just hoped that between now and then he’d buried his old identity so deeply they could not trace it.
With a steady hand, Mulroney eased the boat up to the dock at Darling’s Marina, one in a line of four that hugged the little harbor, and into the skip he rented. Graham was no stranger to marinas. He’d kept both his boats at the one in Arrowhead Bay and had been both a sailor and a fastboat owner for a good portion of his adult life. Darling’s could have been Bayside Marina moved north, with its floating docks, the mixed bag of boats in their slips, and the parking lot where the docks hit land.
Beyond it he could see the town itself, the flat streets of the commercial area rising to the hills where the residential area was. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Graham took that as a good omen. For the first time since he’d started on this trip from Arrowhead Bay first by speedboat, then helicopter, and finally the trawler, he drew in a deep breath and released it.
He had stuffed the external hard drive from his computer into his bag, dumping the internal one, along with his laptop, overboard when they were well at sea. Every bit of information on Cole International and on the Moreno cartel was stored on it. Whatever happened, whatever ammunition he needed, whether it was to get Moreno or anyone else off his back, he had it stored there.
He also had several burner phones along with pay-as-you go cards so he didn’t need to subscribe to a service. He’d acquired the phones from a variety of far-flung locations. On the off chance someone was ever able to find and trace them, none of them tracked back to him. Plus they had the ability for him to change numbers frequently.
Now he was ready for the town…and the person who waited there for him.
The engines slowed, then stopped altogether. The two men who worked the boat with the captain jumped onto the dock, grabbed thick, heavy ropes, and began the process of tying down.
“Hey, Dan.” A medium height, thickset man in jeans and a plaid shirt jogged slowly down the dock. “Get a good haul, did you?”
Mulroney shook his head. “I think they were hiding today.”
“Must be your aftershave,” the man joked.
But Graham knew the real reason was the boat had done no fishing at all. Their work today was to pick up Graham and deliver him to the owner of the marina. They’d worked their way down the coast to the tiny town where the helicopter had dropped him off. Then they headed straight back to Sentinel Island. Dan had greeted him with a mug of hot coffee, then left him to his own devices, a man obviously not given much to conversation. Graham was just as happy not to have to answer any questions. He was having enough trouble trying to sort everything out in his mind.
Had he gotten clean away? Had he left any trace at all that someone could follow? Had he stripped the house of anything that either the police or Moreno could use to find him? Although it was Vince’s death that propelled his quick departure, he had been planning it for weeks.
For a moment sadness bit him as he thought about Devon. His one regret was the fallout that she would have to deal with. Now she’d be in the middle of this mess and probably end up hating him. No more than he deserved. The main reason he’d been distancing himself from her for the past few years was to keep her isolated from his situation. He just hoped one day he might be able to make amends, although that wasn’t too likely. He just prayed that Moreno would leave her alone. But just in case, once he got settled, he’d make sure Moreno knew what would happen if he harmed Devon at all.
Two days after he’d left the Princess Devon drifting in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, Graham Cole had disappeared. It was Grey Callahan who walked down the dock to the little office at the end.
He gave one brief thought to that boat, to the name. From the day she was born he’d seen Devon as his princess. How sad that when he had the money to buy the boat he named for her, his life had turned upside down and he’d had to cut her out of it.
When he opened the door the woman behind the desk let out a little squeak, jumped up, and threw her arms around him.
“You made it.” Leslie smoothed her hands over his hair and his two-day scruff of beard in gentle strokes, as if she’d never get enough of touching him. “I’ve been checking the clock and watching the horizon since I got here this morning.”
He chuffed a laugh. “It was a little touch and go, but yes, I made it. I’m here.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his body, his anchor in the storm that his life had become. God, it felt so good just to hold her. Her rich auburn hair was like silk against his cheek, her skin as smooth as satin, and the scent she always wore, like cinnamon and jasmine, pricked pleasantly at his senses. At five foot six she fit nicely against him, her head coming to just past his chin, her soft breasts pressing into his hard chest. If he hadn’t been afraid someone would walk in on them, he’d have run his hands over every familiar curve of her body.
What a blessing she was. This whole thing hadn’t been easy, and he wondered what he would have done, where he would have gone, if he hadn’t spilled his drink on Leslie Moore that night in the bar of a Philadelphia hotel. It still amazed him that even after he’d made a full confession to her she still wanted him.
“You got away from the Princess Devon without any trouble?” She tilted her head back to look up at him, worry lines creasing her forehead.
He nodded. He had no intention of telling her how he almost hadn’t made it out of his house.
“Josh showed up right on time with the cruiser, the helicopter picked me up at the right spot, and the fishing boat was waiting for me where you said it would be.” He cupped her cheeks in his large palms. “I should probably be killed for getting you involved in this.”
“It was my choice, remember?”
He had told her everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And even knowing all the things he’d done, she was still willing to accept him into her life. Did he love her? He wasn’t sure he even knew what love was anymore. But he did know that he and Leslie had clicked at once. That they had met two or three times a year at remote locations and formed a lasting bond. And that he was sure there wasn’t another woman in the world who would open up her life to him under these circumstances and help him rebuild with a new persona.
“Your laptop came,” she told him. “It’s up at the house.”
“Great. After I get settled I’ll need to set it up. Thanks for doing this.”
The last time they’d been together he’d given her cash and asked her to order a laptop with one of her credit cards.
“So there will be no trace to me,” he’d explained.
“No problem. I got exactly what you wanted. But, Grey?”
“Yeah?” He’d asked her to practice using his new name so there wouldn’t be any slipups.
“It’s a very expensive, very fancy laptop. Are you sure you wanted to spend that kind of money?”
“It was necessary for what I need.” He cupped her chin. “And money will not be a problem. As soon as I get things set up I’ll be able to show an income that looks like it’s coming from a retirement fund.”
She studied his face. “You’ve been planning this for a long time, haven’t you?”
He nodded. “I knew I’d have to get out and I needed to prepare. I must have been crazy to get involved with that maniac in the first place.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” She patted his cheek. “But here you are. At last.”
“Anyone asking you too many questions?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “My friends were so excited I was finally interested in someone again you could probably have three heads and they wouldn’t care. When I told them you were retiring and coming here to live with me they wanted to throw a party.”
“No parties.” He was dead serious. “I mean it, Leslie. It’s so important to keep everything very low key. We discussed this.”
God. What if after all this careful planning, it fell apart at the last minute?
“I know. Believe me, I know. I was just teasing a little.” She hugged him. “I told them you don’t like that kind of fuss any more than I do.”
“And no one’s suspicious?” He had to make sure.
“Not at all. I promise.”
“Did you get rid of the phone?” She’d bought a burner so he could text his message to her that he was on the way and to put things into motion.
She nodded. “Right away. Just like you told me to.”
“I can’t believe this actually worked.” He blew out a breath.
They’d been setting this up ever since he made the decision that this was his only option. From the moment he knew he could trust her, that he felt something for her that she shared, they’d made careful plans.
He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck. “I hate bringing the possibility of this danger to you, sweetheart.”
“We’ll be fine, Grey. And look. I’ve been practicing your new name.”
He cupped her face. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I think I’m the lucky one.”
“Oh, yeah. Hooking up with a fugitive from a drug cartel. Real lucky.”
“Grey.” Her voice was serious. “We all make mistakes. We do things we regret later because sometimes we have no choice. That doesn’t make you a bad man.”
“I think a lot of people might argue that point with you. But enough of that for now. Maybe you should show me where we’re living and I can put away my stuff. I had enough clothes on the boat so I’m good until we can do some shopping.” He looked around the small marina office. “Or do you need to be here? Can you leave for a bit?”
“Of course. All the charters have been checked out for the morning and Eddie can handle anything else. He usually does the heavy lifting, anyway.”
“Our story’s good with him, too? No questions?
“None. I don’t think Eddie has a curious bone in his body.”
“Good.” He sniffed the air. “And I think that’s me with the fish smell in here. A fishing trawler smells like…well.”
“Fish?” She grinned at him.
He chuckled. “That it does. I could use a shower along with a nice cup of coffee.”
“Come on, then. Let’s get you to the house and get you fixed up.”
The town looked exactly as it did in the pictures Leslie had shown him. The downtown, such as it was, ran perpendicular to the marina where it dead ended. He noticed it took care of most of the main necessities in life. Leslie had told him for anything beyond that Eastport was just two miles across the causeway.
Her house, a typical saltbox with its steeply pitched roof, nestled into a hillside in a row of similar houses. How different everything was from the tropical environment he was used to, the Spanish style and Craftsman bungalows.
No palm trees either, he thought wryly. Instead there was a mix of maple and elm and yes, even the pine trees for which the state was known.
Everything is different now, including my name. Maybe getting back to the basics of life will help me straighten out the mess I’ve made of everything.
In the living room, he set down his suitcase and his briefcase and took a moment to look around. Leslie’s house was small but neat, and decorated with a great deal of thought. Hardwood floors wore colorful rag rugs and their colors had been picked up by throw pillows on the couch. The paintings on the walls were few but chosen well. He had a feeling they were by local artists. No more bidding at auction on outrageously priced works. And now he saw that as a good thing.
He normally wouldn’t spend much time taking stock of things like this. A house was a house, after all. Large, small, whatever. But he’d forgotten what a home was, a place where people lived and loved. God, he’d certainly fucked up his life.
Leslie stood there, watching him, twisting her hands with the first attack of nerves he’d ever seen from her. The worry lines were back on her forehead.
“It’s nowhere near as grand as what you’re probably used to.” She wet her lips. “But it’s very cozy and I’m comfortable here.”
“Come here.” He held out his hands to her and took her small ones in his. “It’s perfect. Better than perfect because it looks and feels like you. What did the big house get me except in a lot of hot water?”
On his journey up from Florida he’d had a lot of time to think. Probably too much, allowing him to take painful stock of the life he’d walked away from. He wondered what would have happened if instead of letting Moreno put him in a box with his cash infusion, he’d downsized the company, sold off the less profitable units, and forged ahead from there. But greed was a terrible thing.
And look where it got me.
This was a whole new life for him. He would be comfortable here. Very comfortable. He’d make it work because he wanted to.
He gave her a quick hug. “I swear to you, Les. This is just perfect. New man, new name, new home.” He kissed her cheek. “New woman. It’s all good.”
“Our bedroom is on the second floor.”
He smiled at the sudden hint of shyness in her voice.
“Well, lead me to it.”
The house, including the wall by the stairs, was a nice mixture of woods and wallpaper, creating an atmosphere of warmth. The bedroom was surprisingly large, with a four-poster, queen-sized bed, large dresser, and a picture window looking out at the backyard.
“I made room for your things in the closet and the dresser,” she told him. “And there’s fresh towels in the bathroom.” Her eyes had a worried look to them. “You’re sure this will be okay for you?”
“I’m looking forward to living here. To this. To you. To us.” He gave her a smile he hoped was reassuring. He took her hands in his. “I would never have been able to do this without you. And this is what I want.”
She blew out a breath and he saw the lines of tension on her face ease. “Okay, then. Take your shower. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen.”
“One more thing. Do you have Internet here?”
“Of course.” Her lips curved in a smile. “We’re still in civilization here, Gra-Grey.” Then her smile disappeared. “What do you need?”
“I just want to be able to monitor the fallout from this. Make sure my daughter’s okay.”
“Of course.” Her voice was laced with sympathy. “That had to be the hardest part for you.”
“I have to make sure they don’t go after her. I was careful to keep her out of everything, even if it meant driving a wedge between us.”
“No problem. I’ll write the password down for you.” Then she grinned. “Now go get rid of that fish stink.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After he did that, he’d talk to Leslie about a place to hide a couple of things in his briefcase. Someplace no one would look for them. And he’d ask her to accept a heavy responsibility.
* * * *
Logan prided himself on being a disciplined Marine. Controlled in any and all situations. Removed from extraneous influences and able to focus completely on the task at hand. But he hadn’t counted on Devon Cole walking into his life, the first woman in forever to awaken long dormant feelings and desires. To prick at the pain he’d kept hidden all these years. He was having a hard time telling his cock to behave where Devon Cole was concerned, not to mention his emotions. He never let his emotions into the game. Into anything, for that matter. Not anymore.
But almost twenty-four hours after he’d first laid eyes on her, he still couldn’t get himself under control. He was consumed by a need to protect her. The fact that after being scared out of her wits and nearly killed she’d managed to pull herself together and not fall apart only increased and enhanced her appeal to him. He’d guarded a lot of women since joining Vigilance, but Devon was the first to remind him of Amanda. Same courage, same core of strength, same…everything.
He couldn’t seem to take his mind off everything she did. Last night she’d barely slept. He was well aware of that fact, being across the hall from her and all. He slept with his door open and was conscious of every little sound. A little after midnight she’d gotten out of bed and opened her door. She stared into his room, as if trying to figure out if he was asleep or not.
“I’m awake,” he told her.
“Don’t you sleep?” Her voice had that soft, slightly cottony sound that told him just how uptight she was.
“As much as I need to.”
She stood there in the doorway to her room for a long moment. He noticed that she’d put on long pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and wondered if that was what she always slept in or was she just hiding from him?
“I’m going to leave my door open. Okay?”
“Works for me.”
Another long pause.
“It’s not that I’m afraid,” she tried to assure him. “I just like sleeping with my door open.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable.”
What he’d wanted to say was he’d be happy to climb into her bed with her and keep her safe all night. Oh, and by the way, if he got to hold her and feel that soft body against his so much the better.
Dumbass.
He gave himself a mental smack in the head. Not once since he’d left the Marines and signed on with Vigilance had he even been tempted to mix it up with anyone, especially a client.
Of course half of his clients had been men so that reduced the list. Of the females he’d been assigned to for one reason or another, he liked most of them personally. But this thing with Devon was different, waking up feelings he’d forced himself to bury deep.
He’d promised himself if he ever felt anything for another woman, he wouldn’t let boundaries prevent him from following through.
Of course, Devon Cole was still a client. He wasn’t sure, despite the electricity crackling between them, if she’d welcome a move from him. Or if he had the right to make one. Or what would happen if he did. But having her walk into his life like this, a woman so like Amanda in every way, had to mean something.
Am I trying to convince myself of it? Make her into something she’s not?
While there was always that possibility, he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t the case.
He fixed a fresh cup of coffee for himself and carried it over to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. The sun was just making an appearance, and from the elevated site of the house he could see it cast its rays on Arrowhead Bay, the tiny body of water that gave the town its name. From his vantage point he could see the marina with its floating docks and the rows of boats in their slips. The Driftwood, the restaurant adjacent to the marina, wasn’t open for business yet but the Coffee Pot was. The little diner that served coffee and fresh pastries and breakfast sandwiches for people going out in their boats, whether for business or pleasure, already had its lights on.
The ambience of Arrowhead Bay was a big portion of why he’d chosen to live here. He could get excitement anywhere in the world, on a job or on vacation. Vigilance agents weren’t required to live here, only to show up for their assignments and at least a week of conditioning between jobs. But this place was special. Here was where he recharged his batteries and maintained his humanity, often after jobs he was afraid would rob him of it. Right now he hoped it would settle his brain and help him understand this situation with Devon.
The rule at Vigilance about involvement with clients was a minefield. Avery was very strong about that and he’d never stepped over the line. Not once. He had a well-earned rep for no involvement with anyone. Ginger Brody, the top computer expert at Vigilance, teased him by calling him Mr. Ice Box because she said he could keep his emotions locked down. Where was Mr. Ice Box now?
Gone, the moment Devon Cole barreled her way into his life. He’d never expected to meet someone again who hit him right where he lived physically and emotionally. The way Amanda had. Same latent sexuality, same courage and determination. And no, he wasn’t substituting. He could have done that many times before. Either fate was giving him the famous fickle finger or he was being given another chance. He wished he knew which it was.
He still remembered the feel of Devon’s body in his hands when he lifted her from her car. The way she fit against him when he carried her away from it. The light scent of whatever she shampooed her hair with. He’d had a lot of trouble hiding the fact his cock was hard as a spike.
Control, he urged himself. Get your shit together.
The last thing he wanted to do was fall on her like some sex-starved maniac, because this was about a whole lot more than just sex.
“That’s one of the things I love about this house.”
Devon’s voice startled him. He gave himself a swift mental kick in the ass that he hadn’t even heard her come up behind him. Some bodyguard he was. He was too busy thinking of doing other things to her body besides guarding it.
She moved to his side, holding her own mug of coffee. When he glanced sideways at her his unrepentant shaft raised its head and whispered, My turn. He hadn’t realized it last night but whatever she slept in was made of thin, soft material that draped her body, outlining her breasts, her hips, and her most splendid ass. He wanted to coast his hands over her, feeling every dip and swell and curve.
Holy fucking shit.
Maybe he could hit himself on the head with a hammer.
“The view.” She said it as if he was in some way mentally deficient and didn’t know what she meant.
“Yes. The view. I can see why you’d love it so much.”
“I’d come and stand here in this very spot,” she went on, “looking out toward the water. I could almost feel the sun on my skin, and smell the salty breeze from the water. And somehow for those few minutes I could make myself believe that everything was okay. That my father hadn’t turned into someone I no longer knew.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
She shrugged, then took a sip of her coffee. “Nothing you can do about it. Nothing I could do about it. He just closed himself off more and more, until there was no way for me to reach him.”
“Yet you kept coming to see him,” he reminded her.
“Yes. We’d been doing so great together and then suddenly it all went sideways. Because I kept hoping under all that remote exterior I’d somehow find my father. I didn’t realize he’d already disappeared.”
She sat heavily on the couch, placed her mug on a little side table, and dropped her head into her hands. Logan wasn’t sure exactly what to do so he sat beside her, trying to take his cues from her. He was stunned when she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her face still buried in her hands. It was an automatic reaction for his arm to go around her and hold her against his body. His very misbehaving body.
She was soft and warm, and a faint scent of vanilla and jasmine clung to her. Without even realizing he was doing it, he touched his mouth to her temple and kissed it softly. He tensed at once, waiting for her to push him away or jump up and ask him what he was doing. She did neither of those things. Instead she pressed even closer to him, her breath whispering across the hollow of his throat where his pulse now pounded like a jackhammer.
“Devon, listen.”
“Listen to what? Do you have answers for me? I hardly slept last night. I kept remembering those two men and what they wanted to do. And the phone calls, from someone equally as unfriendly. Just hold me for a little while, Logan. Okay?” She looked up at him. “Can that be part of your bodyguard duties?”
He swallowed a laugh. “Honey, what I’m thinking of has nothing to do with guarding your body.”
She pressed a little closer to him. He stroked her upper arm, a gesture meant to give ease and comfort, but those were sure not things he was feeling. Apparently she wasn’t, either, because she lifted her face to look at him, a question in her eyes.
As if she’d said the words out loud, Logan murmured, “If we don’t get up from this couch right now, we’re going to be in big trouble. I don’t think I can be responsible for my actions.”
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, a gesture that sent a message straight to his balls.
“Maybe responsibility is highly overrated. I’ve been responsible all my life.”
“Devon,” he began again.
She reached up and touched her fingertips to his mouth. “I’m tired of being sensible. Always doing the right thing. Never really letting go. Just for a while I want to forget about this disastrous mess I find myself in.”
He was only human. He figured that could be his excuse as he threaded his fingers in her hair, tilted her face to his, and pressed his mouth to hers. He’d been fighting this since the minute he laid eyes on her. You can’t recreate the past, he told himself. Walk away. But even as he thought the words he knew that was impossible.
Her lips were so soft and smooth he couldn’t help swiping the tip of his tongue over them before he eased it into her mouth. And he was lost.
God! She tasted like seven kinds of sin, hot and wet and welcoming. He wondered if every bit of her tasted just as good. Then he forced the thought from his mind. As turned on as he was from the built-up frustration, if he didn’t get control of himself, he was liable to come in his pants like a horny teenager. Which was exactly how he felt. When her tongue moved to slide over his, it was like kissing a live electrical wire.
He tightened his hold on her head, tilting it first one way, then another to adjust the angle of their mouths. His tongue seemed to have taken on a life of its own, slipping over hers, licking the tender wet flesh inside, scraping over her teeth, then plunging as deep as it could. It only served to make his need to thrust his dick inside her stronger and more urgent.
Dragging his hands away from her face, he slid them beneath the flimsy long-sleeved T-shirt she wore and eased them up to cup her breasts. He squeezed the warm mounds that nestled in his palms. When he brushed his thumbs against her nipples, already stiffened peaks, she gasped, the movement sucking his tongue even deeper into her mouth. She pressed herself into his touch, a soft, sexy moan rumbling up from her throat.
Devon wriggled against him, tugging his T-shirt up so she could reach his bare skin and run her hands up and down his back. She eased her hands around to his chest, gliding them over the curls of chest hair and scraping her fingers over his nipples. Electricity shot straight to his groin and made him bite down on her tongue, drawing another gasp from her.
He broke the kiss at last, desperate to see her naked. He wanted to yank the T-shirt over her head, but he cursed himself for going at her like a starving idiot. With as much care as possible he eased the shirt over her head and tossed the garment to the side. He stared—just stared—at the perfection of her, the creamy skin and the plump breasts with nipples now a dark rose. He skated his hands over every visible inch, finally giving in to the temptation to dip his head and pull one distended nipple into his mouth and suck on it, hard.
The groan that bubbled from Devon’s throat was surely one of the most erotic sounds he’d ever heard and only served to increase his rising need.
Slow. Go slow. Don’t rush things.
Knowing this might be his one and only chance with her, that when reality returned she might even pretend it never happened, he was determined to make every second a memorable one, for both of them.
Devon was doing her own exploring, yanking on his T-shirt to signal him to get rid of it, then outlining every inch of his back and chest with her slender fingers. When she brushed the tips of her fingers over his flat nipples, he had to grit his teeth not to moan aloud or beg her to do more. This was for her, he told himself. Just for her.
Liar!
When he’d given the other nipple an equal amount of attention, he adjusted her position and leaned her back against the cushions. His conscience tried to tell him he should give her one last chance to change her mind, but he’d shoved that conscience into a dark hole the moment his mouth touched hers.
Only once before in his life had a woman had him as rattled with desire as Devon Cole. Or shaken his emotions so instantly. He’d never expected it to happen again and the fact that it did shocked him. Maybe this time…
Maybe this time.
His fingers were clumsy as he tugged the flimsy sleep pants down over the nicely rounded cheeks of her ass, her strong thighs, and the rest of her slender legs, before flinging them impatiently out of his way. His gaze locked on the tiny triangle of purple that barely covered her mound. Reaching down, he traced her slit through the fabric with the tip of his finger.
Devon moaned and opened her thighs more.
“Okay. We’re not doing this on a couch like a couple of horny teenagers.”
He swept her up in his arms and strode toward the bedrooms, then paused in the hallway as if uncertain which room to enter. Then, being the selfish bastard that he was, he decided on his, where her scent would linger on his sheets. At least he’d have that much of her.
He placed her gently on the bed, sucking in his breath when she opened her thighs wide again in obvious invitation. In seconds he was there, kneeling between her legs.
“That’s it.” He barely recognized his voice it was so thick with hunger and need. “Like that. Let me touch you. Feel you. Taste you.”
He was stunned to see his hand shake as he reached out to touch her. He stroked her slit through the fabric, feeling the tiny purple scrap wet with her juices. Needing to see every inch of her flesh, he grasped the lace-edged top and tugged it down her body, then tossed it to the floor. Easing her around so her legs hung over the edge of the bed, he knelt between her thighs, draped those same legs over his shoulders, and opened her labia with his thumbs.
Holy shit!
What little control he hung on to was rapidly eroding. Her pussy was gorgeous, pretty and pink and glistening with her juices. Her clit had darkened and just begged for his touch. He used his tongue to follow the same place his fingers had, licking her from top to bottom, then swirling his tongue around her hard nub. She gasped and arched up to him, her thighs squeezing his head as she tried to close them.
But he was relentless. Holding her open while he lapped and licked and sucked and finally thrust his tongue inside her hot, waiting flesh. Her inner muscles clutched at him as he stroked his tongue in and out, the fingers of one hand toying with her clit, squeezing and tugging and pinching.
“Oh!” she cried, thrusting herself at him again. “Oh, oh, oh.”
Her little cries only drove his need higher as he worked her with his mouth and hands. Then, with an arch of her body, her heels digging into his back, she came with an explosive force, pouring into his mouth, hips jerking, muscles tightening, her inner walls grabbing his tongue over and over again.
Finally the cries faded, the shudders eased, and she lay there, panting, eyes open looking at him and glazed with sensual heat. She did that little swipe across her lip with her tongue, nearly sending him into orbit, and her lips curved in a tiny smile. Without saying a word, he rose to his feet, stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, grabbed the ever-ready condom from his wallet, and rolled it on, his hands less than steady.
Devon pushed herself upright and turned to arrange herself on the bed for him but he shook his head. He simply turned her over and pulled her to her knees. He waited for her to object, but the only sound he heard was the increased tempo of her breathing.
He took one long look at her body and gave in to temptation. Lowering his head, he placed kisses on both cheeks of her ass. She trembled at his touch, a delicious little shiver, so he did it again. Then, unable to hold back any longer, he spread her labia with his thumbs and slowly eased his cock inside her.
Holy fucking shit!
He had to clench his jaw to control himself. She was so hot and wet and tight it stole his breath. He took a moment to get himself under control. He wanted to give her more pleasure before he took his own satisfaction.
“Okay?” he murmured, bending over her and licking the edge of her ear.
She nodded.
Her inner walls were already clenching around him, straining at his self-control.
He moved slowly, wanting to make sure he didn’t rush her. That she was again completely ready for him. But oh, hell, that hot wet sheath just burned him with its heat. In and out, back and forth, he set up a steady rhythm, increasing the pace in small increments. Feeling his body racing to the finish line, he reached around her to find her clit. Pinching it between finger and thumb he tugged and rubbed, working her harder and harder as he stroked into her with increasing speed and force.
He thought he’d have a heart attack before he was certain she was ready again but then, there she was, right with him, exploding around him, her hot inner muscles clutching him and milking him. They spasmed together, again and again, bodies shaking with such force he wasn’t even sure they’d survive the storm.
And then, at last, the shudders eased and slowed, his heartbeat dropped down to something below heart attack level, and he could pull a decent breath into his lungs. When he was sure Devon was okay, he eased from her body, turned her, and stretched her out on the bed.
“I’ll be right back.” His voice was so hoarse he almost didn’t recognize it. Damn! Had he ever had sex that cataclysmic in his life? He had a sinking feeling Devon Cole was about to become a drug he was addicted to. Could he really chance it again? What if he failed yet another woman?
He disposed of the condom and hurried back to the bed. She was lying exactly as he’d left her. He eased his body in next to her and pulled her up against him.
He tucked her head beneath his chin and molded her body to his, his now soft cock nestled in the crevice of her ass.
“Logan?” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it. He hated that it was filled with uncertainty. What had he done here?
“It’s okay, Devon. I think we both needed something.”
I certainly needed it, and a lot more. I am in such a pile of shit here.
“I don’t want you to think—”
He touched two fingers to her lips. “It’s okay. It was good, Devon. Very good. Let’s hold on to that.”
Now what, asshole?
For the first time in years he really wanted something. Every emotion he’d buried so deep all these years came screeching to the forefront. He’d made a promise to himself never to do this again. To keep his emotion locked away. He’d been a Force Recon Marine, for God’s sake, who locked himself up tighter than a drum. He was protecting himself as much as anything else.
But the door had been opened and he wasn’t sure if every bit of self-control he had, every bit of discipline, could slam it shut. Because one thing he knew for sure. As hard as it would be to keep his hands to himself from here on out, it would be a fucking damn sight harder to walk away from this woman. Fate was giving him another chance and this time he’d get it right. Avery would probably cut off his balls, but he’d figure out how to deal with it.
He kissed her temple. “Let’s take a short nap before we hit the decks today.”
“Logan?”
Damn. That shaky little voice was killing him.
“Uh-huh?”
“This, um, wasn’t a, you know—” She seemed to be struggling with the words. “It wasn’t a, you know, pity fuck, was it?”
Every muscle in his body tensed as shock raced through him. What the hell?
“Devon, listen to me. Whatever I feel for you…felt for you… Pity doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it. Keeping my hands to myself after this is going to be damn fucking hard.”
A soft little breath eased from her and her body relaxed.
“Good. Because I think it’s the best I’ve ever had.”
He was still replaying those words in his brain when he felt her body relax as she dropped into sleep.
Well, buddy boy, he told himself. You’ve gone and done it now. Thank God she hadn’t told him it was all a mistake. What the hell was he planning to do about it? How did he plan to keep his hands to himself after this?
But hard as he thought, even as he drifted off to sleep, no answer presented itself.