Perhaps she could just close her eyes a little…
****
Logan smiled to himself when he looked across at his far too quiet, and it would seem fast asleep companion. She would be no doubt mortified knowing that he was watching her sleep. Had she been any other woman he would also have been pretty pissed that she found his company so lacking that she dozed, off, but this wasn’t just any woman.
She was his wife.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel as the full meaning of that one word sunk in. While their ceremony hadn’t been a religious one—neither one of them were believers—he had still pledged himself to her, promised to love, cherish, and be faithful until death did them part and all that crap—and he would do his best to keep to those vows for as long as this marriage had to last. It’s the least he could do, considering that she’d agreed to marry him for the sake of Rhia. He knew he wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of gaining permanent custody of his niece, not with the judge most likely to be appointed for the hearing being an old-fashioned coot, who was a firm believer in old family values.
His wide platinum wedding band caught his eye, and he smiled again, when he recalled Hannah’s surprise at the matching wedding rings. She had the cutest frown when she mulled something over, and he was fast becoming addicted to see it appear. That and the way her whole being lit up when she was happy. A man could lose himself in that happiness, crave it even.
Logan frowned at the direction his thoughts were taking, but it was only natural to care for one’s wife, right? He wasn’t a completely heartless bastard, after all, and it would make life decidedly uncomfortable if they didn’t at least rub along.
While he’d known how compatible they were sexually, this pleasant rapport they’d established between each other was a welcome, if unexpected, surprise. Unlike most of the women of his acquaintance, Hannah seemed to be exactly who she said she was, a trait she shared with her sister, and George.
It had been one of the main reasons why he’d asked George to be his best man. The straightforward, no-nonsense builder had been surprised at being asked, but as Logan had pointed out, he couldn’t exactly ask his twin.
He’d been best man at Rick’s wedding, was godfather to Rhia, and he’d always assumed Rick would one day do the same for him. Bile churned in his gut, and he changed to the fast lane and put his foot down. This self-examining one’s feelings wasn’t doing him any good. The sooner he got them to their tower, the sooner he could lose himself in his wife’s soft body and forget the rest of this fucked up world existed for a while.
By the time they finally reached Peebles, Hannah stirred. The blush that crept into her cheeks when she realized she’d dozed off lightened his mood considerably.
“Back with me, I see. We’re nearly there now. Look up there.” He gestured up the hill toward Neidpath Castle. Overlooking the river Tweed from its vantage point up high, the ancient, L-plan rubble-built tower house would have made the perfect wedding venue, had it not been hired out to a film crew for the summer. Hannah gasped when he told her as much.
“As they haven’t started yet, however, I managed to snare us this tower. Coming up right about now.”
Sure enough, the tall building rose in front of them. Even with the incessant rain still pouring down, it made an idyllic setting.
“Wow, that really does look ancient.” Hannah’s breathless observation made him grin.
“I’m assured it’s most comfortable inside while maintaining its original charms. Let me just go and get it opened up. Everything ought to be ready and set up for us by now.” He reached across her into the glove box to pull out the set of keys he’d procured ahead of time, jogged across the rain-soaked stone steps, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened effortlessly. Blessed warmth greeted him, and he could hear the crackle of the open fires.
Good, they’d followed his instructions then. Leaving the door ajar, he jogged back to the car, and yanked open the passenger door.
“Ready to make a run for
it, little dove?” he asked. The incredulous way she looked him up and down, and then gestured at the rain, which was coming down much faster now, made him smirk. “It’s only water, and I promise I’ll warm you up once we get in there.”
He swiped his rain-soaked hair out of his face with one hand and held his free hand out for her to take. When she did, he pulled her out of the car, and the heavens truly opened.
They were soaked through to the skin by the time they made it up the stairs. Rather than bitching about it, Hannah was laughing when he swung back round to look at her. Jesus, she was beautiful. Head raised into the deluge, arms outstretched, she looked like a virginal offering to the gods, and he took a moment to simply drink in her. The expertly applied make up had been washed away by the rain, her hair hung in bedraggled ringlets around her face, and the sinful wedding dress had been rendered transparent. Mud splatters marred the train and skirt, not that Hannah seemed to care, because she twirled around a few times, before she faced him with a huge grin.
“Are we going in or—yikes, Logan, put me down, I’m too heavy … mph.”
Logan shut up her protests by the very expedient method of kissing her, while he carried his new bride over the threshold. A firm kick ensured the door shut behind them, and with a few more steps, he blindly crossed the boot room and set her down next to the enormous stone sink. Only then did he break the kiss, and smiled at her.
“We need to get out of these wet clothes, wife.”
With that he stepped back and unbuttoned his waistcoat. His shirt was next, and both items of clothing ended up on the stone floor with a sodden splat. He kicked his shoes and socks off and having pulled off his trousers and boxers they, too, ended up in soggy pile on the floor, next to Hannah’s high heels, which appeared to be the only item of clothing she’d divested herself of so far.
His cock, always at half-mast around her, surged into full life seeing her perched on the sideboard, eyes wide, little teeth nibbling her bottom lip as she ran her gaze all over his naked body. A rosy flush spread across her skin despite the wet clothing she was still wearing, and her breasts were in serious danger of spilling over the top of her dress.
“At the risk of sounding like a bad cliché, one of is wearing too many clothes still, and it’s not me, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, the caveman in him roaring in delight at the fact that she didn’t seem capable of tearing her gaze away from his dick. That organ strained up to his navel, bobbed in tune to his steps, and pointed straight toward her like a homing beacon.
“I can’t get out of it by myself.” Hannah’s needy whisper made him even harder. She made a grab for his shoulders when he stepped up to her, yanked her dress up and her legs apart, and stepped right between them. Fuck him from here to next week, she was wearing sheer stockings and a garter belt. He’d died and gone to heaven, clearly, because the silky feel of her legs as she wrapped them around his hips was torture and bliss all rolled into one.
Logan pressed his forehead against hers, and pulled some much-needed breath into his lungs, while he fought for control. It had been too long, and this close to his prize … fuck, he could smell the sweet aroma of her arousal and his hand wandered up her thighs of their own accord. The contrast between the silk and the softness of her skin further did him in as she raised her hips, and clung.
“Please, I … yes.”