“I'm sorry about your truck too,” she said in a wry tone as she lightly traced the outline of another wound with the tip of her finger. “You're a mess. A complete mess.”
She'd barely walked away from an exploding truck. And she was worried about him.
“I'll heal.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “The only thing that matters is finding out who did this. And staying alive.”
Her eyes met his, full of resolve. “Hotshots always were some of the toughest people I'd ever met.” She searched his kitchen cupboards for a dish towel. “You'd better take your pants off too.”
He twitched at her words, ready for action despite everything. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
She pulled a blue-and-white-striped towel out of a drawer and turned on the tap, waiting several seconds for the water to grow warm. After washing her hands, she picked up a bar of soap and moved behind him again.
“This is probably going to hurt.”
He braced himself. “Go for it.”
Slowly, gently, she brushed away dirt and pine needles with the pads of her fingers down the length of his back. The soap and water stung like a mother, but her touch was the perfect distraction, far better than any drugs would have been.
He could feel her breath on his spine, the heat of her body warming his back. He wanted to turn around and heal himself with her lips, her curves, her responsive moans of pleasure.
And then her hands stilled against his skin. “You could have died trying to save me.” She laid her cheek against his back. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have gotten out as soon as you said the word.”
“No,” he said, undone by her touch.
He didn't give a crap about control anymore, not when he'd almost lost her. He turned and threaded his bloodstained hands into her hair.
“Don't you dare blame yourself. Not for a goddamned thing.”
All he wanted was to forget the image of her sitting in a ticking time bomb and the utter helplessness of watching smoke rise from the engine. He had to taste her, had to confirm that she was flesh and blood and not just a figment of his desperate imagination.
“I lost you once,” he said as he lowered his mouth to cover hers. “I won't lose you again.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOGAN'S WORDS muddled together inside Maya's head. She tucked them away for a different time and place, when she could breathe normally, when she could think straight. Right now, all she knew was that she couldn't stop rubbing her hands over his abs, over his pecs, over every square inch of his glorious broad, tanned chest. And that she'd die if she didn't kiss him that very second.
She'd never been so close to death before. His warmth, his heartbeat thudding against hers, the desire she read in his eyes—they all meant life to her. Keeping her distance from Logan and staying safe in her little world suddenly meant nothing. Not when one malicious act had almost robbed her of her chance to feel joy, to feel anything at all. She wanted to sample life's sweetness and allow herself a taste of the pleasure she'd refused for so long.
Their mouths came together and it was a blur of heat and passion. No one was in charge. Instead, they were both taking something they desperately needed, something they could only find in each other's arms.
He backed her to the kitchen island and she opened her legs to take him in closer. He was so big, so strong, so wonderfully hot as his hips shifted into place between her thighs. Ever since she'd seen him again on top of the mountain, barely twenty-four hours earlier—no, ever since she'd kissed him six months ago—she hadn't stopped wanting him.
The floodgates flew open as she melted in his arms.
She was discovering him all over again, just as he was discovering her. Little things like his scent and the way his stubble rubbed against her cheek sent dangerous emotions slithering in between her ribs, aiming straight for her heart.
His hands were gentle as they cupped her face and she instinctively tilted her face up as his mouth moved from her lips to the concave place between her chin and shoulder bones. Her limbs felt heavy, drugged with his kisses. Her skin buzzed and her ni**les were stiff and tight behind her bra as he nipped at her jaw.
Through it all, she worked to hold herself apart from him and deflect the strong emotions threatening to overtake her, the voice in her head that was whispering something about Logan being her soul mate.
No, that was crazy. He couldn't be.
But when he flicked his tongue behind her ear, then pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, her body made the decision for her.
She knew the instant he felt her capitulation, by the tender way he caressed her shoulders and back muscles with deep, soothing motions. And then his fingers moved to her waistband and he pulled at her borrowed cotton T-shirt, dirty from her face-plant into the gravel. She shifted her hips slightly to give him better access, to help him strip her down.
She knew better than to go here with him again. But knowing better didn't change anything. Knowing better couldn't possibly stop the heavy heat in her pelvis or the slick arousal that gathered between her thighs.
Not when she was already so far gone.
Not when being alive meant being with Logan.
He pulled the T-shirt slowly up her body, over her aching br**sts. When it was on the floor, she pressed herself against him. The muscles on his beautiful naked chest were tight and corded, the perfect foil to her curves.
“You're beautiful,” she whispered, only realizing she'd spoken when she heard the words in the room.
He looked down at her as he ran his thumb over the swell of her br**sts. “No,” he said, bending his head down to lick the crevasse where her breastbone was, “you're the one who's beautiful, so beautiful you take my breath away.”
Her breath caught at his words, his sweet caresses. No one had ever touched her like this, like he wanted her more than he wanted to breathe. No one but Logan.
She found herself losing track of time again, six months fading to nothing since they'd last stood like this.
She tried to right her thoughts, worked to lodge herself back into the impossibilities of the here and now, but when his mouth, hot and wet, came down over her lace-clad br**sts, and his hands played against the sensitive skin at the small of her back, urging her to let go, she instinctively arched into his mouth.
Goose bumps covered her skin as he softly raked his teeth over her hard nipple. Logan's fingers were warm and steady on her shoulders as he slid first one bra strap down, then the other. The heat in his eyes intensified as he stared at her naked br**sts, and she was powerless to do anything but stand there and let him look his fill. Reverently, he cupped her flesh with both hands and rubbed his thumbs over her ni**les.
o;I'm sorry about your truck too,” she said in a wry tone as she lightly traced the outline of another wound with the tip of her finger. “You're a mess. A complete mess.”
She'd barely walked away from an exploding truck. And she was worried about him.
“I'll heal.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “The only thing that matters is finding out who did this. And staying alive.”
Her eyes met his, full of resolve. “Hotshots always were some of the toughest people I'd ever met.” She searched his kitchen cupboards for a dish towel. “You'd better take your pants off too.”
He twitched at her words, ready for action despite everything. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
She pulled a blue-and-white-striped towel out of a drawer and turned on the tap, waiting several seconds for the water to grow warm. After washing her hands, she picked up a bar of soap and moved behind him again.
“This is probably going to hurt.”
He braced himself. “Go for it.”
Slowly, gently, she brushed away dirt and pine needles with the pads of her fingers down the length of his back. The soap and water stung like a mother, but her touch was the perfect distraction, far better than any drugs would have been.
He could feel her breath on his spine, the heat of her body warming his back. He wanted to turn around and heal himself with her lips, her curves, her responsive moans of pleasure.
And then her hands stilled against his skin. “You could have died trying to save me.” She laid her cheek against his back. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have gotten out as soon as you said the word.”
“No,” he said, undone by her touch.
He didn't give a crap about control anymore, not when he'd almost lost her. He turned and threaded his bloodstained hands into her hair.
“Don't you dare blame yourself. Not for a goddamned thing.”
All he wanted was to forget the image of her sitting in a ticking time bomb and the utter helplessness of watching smoke rise from the engine. He had to taste her, had to confirm that she was flesh and blood and not just a figment of his desperate imagination.
“I lost you once,” he said as he lowered his mouth to cover hers. “I won't lose you again.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LOGAN'S WORDS muddled together inside Maya's head. She tucked them away for a different time and place, when she could breathe normally, when she could think straight. Right now, all she knew was that she couldn't stop rubbing her hands over his abs, over his pecs, over every square inch of his glorious broad, tanned chest. And that she'd die if she didn't kiss him that very second.
She'd never been so close to death before. His warmth, his heartbeat thudding against hers, the desire she read in his eyes—they all meant life to her. Keeping her distance from Logan and staying safe in her little world suddenly meant nothing. Not when one malicious act had almost robbed her of her chance to feel joy, to feel anything at all. She wanted to sample life's sweetness and allow herself a taste of the pleasure she'd refused for so long.
Their mouths came together and it was a blur of heat and passion. No one was in charge. Instead, they were both taking something they desperately needed, something they could only find in each other's arms.
He backed her to the kitchen island and she opened her legs to take him in closer. He was so big, so strong, so wonderfully hot as his hips shifted into place between her thighs. Ever since she'd seen him again on top of the mountain, barely twenty-four hours earlier—no, ever since she'd kissed him six months ago—she hadn't stopped wanting him.
The floodgates flew open as she melted in his arms.
She was discovering him all over again, just as he was discovering her. Little things like his scent and the way his stubble rubbed against her cheek sent dangerous emotions slithering in between her ribs, aiming straight for her heart.
His hands were gentle as they cupped her face and she instinctively tilted her face up as his mouth moved from her lips to the concave place between her chin and shoulder bones. Her limbs felt heavy, drugged with his kisses. Her skin buzzed and her ni**les were stiff and tight behind her bra as he nipped at her jaw.
Through it all, she worked to hold herself apart from him and deflect the strong emotions threatening to overtake her, the voice in her head that was whispering something about Logan being her soul mate.
No, that was crazy. He couldn't be.
But when he flicked his tongue behind her ear, then pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, her body made the decision for her.
She knew the instant he felt her capitulation, by the tender way he caressed her shoulders and back muscles with deep, soothing motions. And then his fingers moved to her waistband and he pulled at her borrowed cotton T-shirt, dirty from her face-plant into the gravel. She shifted her hips slightly to give him better access, to help him strip her down.
She knew better than to go here with him again. But knowing better didn't change anything. Knowing better couldn't possibly stop the heavy heat in her pelvis or the slick arousal that gathered between her thighs.
Not when she was already so far gone.
Not when being alive meant being with Logan.
He pulled the T-shirt slowly up her body, over her aching br**sts. When it was on the floor, she pressed herself against him. The muscles on his beautiful naked chest were tight and corded, the perfect foil to her curves.
“You're beautiful,” she whispered, only realizing she'd spoken when she heard the words in the room.
He looked down at her as he ran his thumb over the swell of her br**sts. “No,” he said, bending his head down to lick the crevasse where her breastbone was, “you're the one who's beautiful, so beautiful you take my breath away.”
Her breath caught at his words, his sweet caresses. No one had ever touched her like this, like he wanted her more than he wanted to breathe. No one but Logan.
She found herself losing track of time again, six months fading to nothing since they'd last stood like this.
She tried to right her thoughts, worked to lodge herself back into the impossibilities of the here and now, but when his mouth, hot and wet, came down over her lace-clad br**sts, and his hands played against the sensitive skin at the small of her back, urging her to let go, she instinctively arched into his mouth.
Goose bumps covered her skin as he softly raked his teeth over her hard nipple. Logan's fingers were warm and steady on her shoulders as he slid first one bra strap down, then the other. The heat in his eyes intensified as he stared at her naked br**sts, and she was powerless to do anything but stand there and let him look his fill. Reverently, he cupped her flesh with both hands and rubbed his thumbs over her ni**les.