Until now.
He was…there were no words to accurately describe him. He was one hundred and ninety-five pounds of male perfection.
Her fingertips followed the trail of hair that ran down his abs and disappeared below the waistband of his slacks. She reached for the button before she started to work his zipper down.
Now this was a part of his anatomy that she’d never seen before, and she found herself holding her breath as she pushed his slacks down his hips, exposing him to her more than eager gaze.
Why was she not surprised that Logan was going commando?
His now freed erection immediately sprang up, and she reached out, wrapping her hand around it and stroking him from base to tip.
“Well, aren’t you impressive?” she whispered.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” He reached up and touched her chin, pushing gently until he could cover her mouth with his. His tongue dipped in, finding hers, moving in slow delicious thrusts that had her body craving more.
So much more.
“Bed,” she said against his mouth.
“Yes, ma’am.” He moved back just a little as he freed his legs from his pants. She only had a second to admire him in all his naked glory before he stepped forward and grabbed her.
She gasped, startled as his hands gripped her waist and he pulled her up off the table. Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he carried her through the cabin.
Logan was pretty sure nothing had ever felt better than when he slid inside of Abby’s body. Her back arched off the bed and she clutched at his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin.
He buried his face in her neck as he stilled, letting her adjust around him before he started to move. He also took the moment to try to get a little bit of control over himself.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined what this would be like for months now, and his imagination was nothing close to the reality.
Abby was perfection. The whole damn package.
The thing was, she wasn’t his typical package. He liked tall, leggy blondes. Abby Fields was none of those things.
She was better.
He pulled back and looked down into those bright blue eyes of hers, eyes that he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he’d first seen her. He ran one of his hands up her side, tracing those curves that filled out those skirts she loved to wear, and to her breasts that were more than a generous handful. He knew this from personal experience as he’d now had them in his hands tonight.
She had a pretty remarkable hourglass figure, if he did say so himself.
And he did.
But those weren’t his mission at the moment. No, he wanted his hands in her hair. She always wore it pinned up, not a strand out of place. Well, it was more than ruffled now; the red strands were spread out across the pillows in a glorious mess.
She pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, her bare feet pressing into his lower back. He lowered his mouth to hers, needing to taste her on his tongue as he began to move his hips. Pulling out before he’d slowly sink back in.
He’d been foolish to try to resist this, try to resist her. He’d been fighting a losing battle. Actually no, that wasn’t true.
He’d finally won.
“Oh God, Logan.” Abby pulled back and moaned his name, long and low, her limbs tightening around him as she started to move, seeking more friction. “Harder. Please!”
Well, she was just full of surprises tonight. And who was he to deny her what they both clearly wanted.
He grabbed her hands, his fingers locking with hers as he pinned them to the bed above their heads.
“This okay?” he asked.
She nodded, licking her lips as she continued to move her hips.
“Perfect,” he said as he thrust inside of her.
Her eyes closed as her entire body arched up and she pressed her head back into the pillow. He pulled out before he pushed back in, harder just like she wanted. He wasn’t sure how long they moved like that, wasn’t sure how long he was lost in her, before her hands tightened in his and she was no longer moaning his name.
Nope, she was screaming it. She lost it beneath him, her body tightening around his and setting off his own chain of events.
Logan buried his face in Abby’s neck, inhaling the scent of her as he caught his breath. When he pulled back a moment later, she gave him a sleepy smile.
“I’ll be right back.” He kissed her mouth before he reluctantly pulled from her body and went to the bathroom.
When he stepped back into the room a couple of minutes later, it was to find Abby sitting up in bed. The sheet was wrapped around her chest, and her auburn hair was sticking out like a messy halo.
He looked at her scattered garments on the floor. The thigh-high stockings that he’d peeled her out of with his teeth, her lace underwear, and those damn red shoes.
There were little bows on the backs and they’d been driving Logan out of his fucking mind all night. But she always wore heels, so they therefore always drove him out of his fucking mind.
She always drove him out of his fucking mind.
His eyes came up and focused on her as she shifted, her naked legs moving against the sheets. It was that awkward moment after of do I stay, or do I go?
He wanted her to stay.
“So this cabin gets a little drafty at night.”
Her mouth quirked to the side. “That so?”
“Yeah.” He crossed the room to the bed, placing both of his hands on either side of her. “So in an effort to conserve body heat, you should sleep in here.”
“Smart.” She nodded, running her hand up his bare chest.
“Besides,” he said as he leaned forward, gently pushing her back down onto the bed. He followed, hovering over her as he pressed his mouth to hers. “I’m not even remotely finished with you.”
Excerpt from UNDONE
Short Fuses and a Whole Lot of Sparks
Things Paige Morrison will never understand about Mirabelle, Florida:
* * *
Why wearing red shoes makes a girl a harlot
Why a shop would ever sell something called “buck urine”
Why everywhere she goes, she runs into sexy—and infuriating—Brendan King.
After losing her job, her apartment, and her boyfriend, Paige has no choice but to leave Philadelphia and move in with her retired parents. For an artsy outsider like Paige, finding her place in the tightly knit town isn't easy-until she meets Brendan, the hot mechanic who's interested in much more than Paige's car. In no time at all, Brendan helps Paige find a new job, new friends, and a happiness she wasn't sure she'd ever feel again. With Brendan by her side, Paige finally feels like she can call Mirabelle home. But when a new bombshell drops, will the couple survive, or will their love come undone?
* * *
Check out the first chapter of UNDONE, book one in the Country Roads series.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Bethelda Grimshaw was a snot-nosed wench. She was an evil, mean-spirited, vindictive, horrible human being.
Paige should’ve known. She should’ve known the instant she’d walked into that office and sat down. Bethelda Grimshaw had a malevolent stench radiating off her, kind of like road kill in ninety-degree weather. The interview, if it could even be called that, had been a complete waste of time.
“She didn’t even read my résumé,” Paige said, slamming her hand against the steering wheel as she pulled out of the parking lot of the Mirabelle Information Center.
No, Bethelda had barely even looked at said résumé before she set it down on the desk and leaned back in her chair, appraising Paige over her cat’s-eye glasses.
“So you’re the infamous Paige Morrison,” Bethelda had said, raising a perfectly plucked, bright red eyebrow. “You’ve caused quite a stir since you came to town.”
Quite a stir?
Okay, so there had been that incident down at the Pigg
ly Wiggly, but that hadn’t been Paige’s fault. Betty Whitehurst might seem like a sweet, little old lady but in reality she was as blind as a bat and as vicious as a shrew. Betty drove her shopping cart like she was racing in the Indy 500, which was an accomplishment as she barely cleared the handle. She’d slammed her cart into Paige, who in turn fell into a display of cans. Paige had been calm for all of about five seconds before Betty started screeching at her about watching where she was going.
Paige wasn’t one to take things lying down covered in cans of creamed corn, so she’d calmly explained to Betty that she had been watching where she was going. “Calmly” being that Paige had started yelling and the store manager had to get involved to quiet everyone down.
Yeah, Paige didn’t deal very well with certain types of people. Certain types being evil, mean-spirited, vindictive, horrible human beings. And Bethelda Grimshaw was quickly climbing to the top of that list.
“As it turns out,” Bethelda had said, pursing her lips in a patronizing pout, “we already filled the position. I’m afraid there was a mistake in having you come down here today.”
“When?”
“Excuse me?” Bethelda had asked, her eyes sparkling with glee.
“When did you fill the position?” Paige had repeated, trying to stay calm.
“Last week.”
Really? So the phone call Paige got that morning to confirm the time of the interview had been a mistake?
This was the eleventh job interview she’d gone on in the last two months. And it had most definitely been the worst. It hadn’t even been an interview. She’d been set up; she just didn’t understand why. But she hadn’t been about to ask that question out loud. So instead of flying off the handle and losing the last bit of restraint she had, Paige had calmly gotten up from the chair and left without making a scene. The whole thing was a freaking joke, which fit perfectly for the current theme of Paige’s life.
Six months ago, Paige had been living in Philadelphia. She had a good job in the art department of an advertising agency. She’d shared a tiny two-bedroom apartment above a coffee shop with her best friend, Abby Fields. And she’d had Dylan, a man who she’d been very much in love with.
And then the rug got pulled out from under her and she’d fallen flat on her ass.
First off, Abby got a job at an up-and-coming PR firm. Which was good news, and Paige had been very excited for her, except the job was in Washington, DC, which Paige was not excited about. Then, before Paige could find a new roommate, she lost her job. The advertising agency was bought out and she was in the first round of cuts. Without a job, she couldn’t renew her lease, and was therefore homeless. So she’d moved in with Dylan. It was always supposed to be a temporary thing, just until Paige could find another job and get on her feet again.
But it never happened.
Paige had tried for two months and found nothing, and then the real bomb hit. She was either blind or just distracted by everything else that was going on, but either way, she never saw it coming.
Paige had been with Dylan for about a year and she really thought he was the one. Okay, he tended to be a bit of a snob when it came to certain things. For example, wine. Oh, was he ever a wine snob, rather obnoxious about it really. He would always swirl it around in his glass, take a sip, sniff, and then take another loud sip, smacking his lips together.
He was also a snob about books. Paige enjoyed reading the classics, but she also liked romance, mystery, and fantasy. Whenever she curled up with one of her books, Dylan tended to give her a rather patronizing look and shake his head.
“Reading fluff again I see,” he would say.
Yeah, she didn’t miss that at all. Or the way he would roll his eyes when she and Abby quoted movies and TV shows to each other. Or how he’d never liked her music and flat-out refused to dance with her. Which had always been frustrating because Paige loved to dance. But despite all of that, she’d loved him. Loved the way he would run his fingers through his hair when he was distracted, loved his big goofy grin, and loved the way his glasses would slide down his nose.
But the thing was, he hadn’t loved her.
One night, he came home to his apartment and sat Paige down on the couch. Looking back on it, she’d been an idiot, because there was a small part of her that thought he was actually about to propose.
“Paige,” he’d said, sitting down on the coffee table and grabbing her hands. “I know that this was supposed to be a temporary thing, but weeks have turned into months. Living with you has brought a lot of things to light.”
It was wrong, everything about that moment was all wrong. She could tell by the look in his eyes, by the tone of his voice, by the way he said Paige and light. In that moment she’d known exactly where he was going, and it wasn’t anywhere with her. He wasn’t proposing. He was breaking up with her.
She’d pulled her hands out of his and shrank back into the couch.
“This,” he’d said, gesturing between the two of them, “was never going to go further than where we are right now.”
And that was the part where her ears had started ringing.
“At one point I thought I might love you, but I’ve realized I’m not in love with you,” he’d said, shaking his head. “I feel like you’ve thought this was going to go further, but the truth is I’m never going to marry you. Paige, you’re not the one. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of putting in the effort for a relationship that isn’t going anywhere else. It’s not worth it to me.”
“You mean I’m not worth it,” she’d said, shocked.
“Paige, you deserve to be with someone who wants to make the effort, and I deserve to be with someone who I’m willing to make the effort for. It’s better that we end this now, instead of delaying the inevitable.”
He’d made it sound like he was doing her a favor, like he had her best interests at heart.
But all she’d heard was You’re not worth it and I’m not in love with you. And those were the words that kept repeating in her head, over and over again.
Dylan had told her he was going to go stay with one of his friends for the week. She told him she’d be out before the end of the next day. She spent the entire night packing up her stuff. Well, packing and crying and drinking two entire bottles of the prick’s wine.
Paige didn’t have a lot of stuff. Most of the furniture from her and Abby’s apartment had been Abby’s. Everything Paige owned had fit into the back of her Jeep and the U-Haul trailer she’d rented the first thing the following morning. She loaded up and was out of there before four o’clock in the afternoon.
She’d stayed the night in a hotel room just outside of Philadelphia, where she promptly passed out. She’d been exhausted after her marathon packing, which was good because it was harder for a person to feel beyond pathetic in her sleep. No, that was what the following eighteen-hour drive had been reserved for.
Jobless, homeless, and brokenhearted, Paige had nowhere else to go but home to her parents. The problem was, there was no home anymore. The house in Philadelphia that Paige had grown up in was no longer her parents’. They’d sold it and retired to a little town in the South.
Mirabelle, Florida: population five thousand.
There was roughly the same amount of people in the six hundred square miles of Mirabelle as there was in half a square mile of Philadelphia. Well, unless the mosquitoes were counted as residents.
People who thought that Florida was all sunshine and sand were sorely mistaken. It did have its fair share of beautiful beaches. The entire southeast side of Mirabelle was the Gulf of Mexico. But about half of the town was made up of water. And all of that water, combined with the humidity that plagued the area, created the perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. Otherwise known as tiny, bloodsucking villains that loved to bite the crap out of Paige’s legs.
Paige had visited her parents a couple of times over the last two years, but she’d never been in love with Mirabelle like her parents were. And she stil
l wasn’t. She’d spent a month moping around her parents’ house. Again, she was pathetic enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, Dylan would call her and tell her that he’d been wrong. That he missed her. That he loved her.
He never called, and Paige realized he was never going to. That was when Paige resigned herself to the fact that she had to move on with her life. So she’d started looking for a job.
Which had proved to be highly unsuccessful.
Paige had been living in Mirabelle for three months now. Three long miserable months where nothing had gone right. Not one single thing.
And as that delightful thought crossed her mind, she noticed that her engine was smoking. Great white plumes of steam escaped from the hood of her Jeep Cherokee.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said as she pulled off to the side of the road and turned the engine off. “Fan-freaking-tastic.”
Paige grabbed her purse and started digging around in the infinite abyss, searching for her cell phone. She sifted through old receipts, a paperback book, her wallet, lip gloss, a nail file, gum…ah, cell phone. She pressed speed dial for her father. She held the phone against her ear while she leaned over and searched for her shoes that she’d thrown on the floor of the passenger side. As her hand closed over one of her black wedges, the phone beeped in her ear and disconnected. She sat up and held her phone out, staring at the display screen in disbelief.
No service.
“This has to be some sick, twisted joke,” she said, banging her head down on the steering wheel. No service on her cell phone shouldn’t have been that surprising; there were plenty of dead zones around Mirabelle. Apparently there was a lack of cell phone towers in this little piece of purgatory.
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