Play Hard

by V. K. Sykes

  No way did he want that to work.

  He wanted her in his bed all right, but he was kind of seeing it as more of a permanent thing. And that was crazy. This was Billie. Billie-Jo Barker.

  Betty’s sister.

  He’d warned Shane not to get involved with any of the Barker women and here he was, panting at Billie’s heels like a dog in heat.

  His eyes fell to her ass as she wove through the tables and said goodbye to Andrew. She kissed the small Frenchman—on both cheeks—and he shook the man’s hand on his way out.

  Billie was a little unsteady on her feet and he grabbed her elbow as they walked out into the crisp, October air. Her coat was on her arm and those gorgeous breasts were still begging for his mouth, causing another twitch between his legs.

  Keep it together Forest, he thought.

  “Logan?”

  They were at his truck.

  She clung to his chest and glanced up at him—every gorgeous inch of her pressed against his body. There was no way in hell he could hide how he felt and by the look in her eyes, she knew it.

  “I don’t want to go home,” she said softly.

  Again, he found himself staring into eyes that he could lose himself in if he wasn’t careful. Eyes filled with secrets and desire and—she licked her lips—plain old lust.

  “Are you sure?” He watched her closely.

  She nodded slowly, though she didn’t say a thing.

  “Okay.”

  Logan opened the door for her and took his time helping her into the truck—how could he not? Her ass was to die for.

  Once she was safely ensconced in the passenger seat, he reversed out of the parking lot, kept his gaze on the road ahead and made it back to New Waterford in record time.

  The light was on in Shane’s loft, but other than that his place was quiet and dark. He parked in the garage and held the door open for Billie as she slid from his truck.

  He grabbed her hand and tugged her along after him as they made their way through the dark, up his walkway and onto the front porch. His breaths were falling fast and hard, and it was all he could do to get his damn keys out of his pocket and open the front door.

  He knew what was going to happen next and his entire body was hot with the utter need to bury himself inside her. That’s all he could think about. Right or wrong, there you had it.

  Billie-Jo naked in his bed, between his legs, his cock buried deep inside her. Her body responding to his, making that fucking noise that drove him crazy.

  He closed the door behind him and she was there, her body pressed against him, her chest crushed to his as her arms reached for him.

  And then he opened her mouth with his and kissed her until his head spun. Her tongue met his, teeth gnashed, lips were suckled and when his hands rode the round ass that had been begging for it since she’d stepped off that bottom stair in her house, she groaned into him.

  Logan easily lifted her so that she could wrap her legs around him. For the longest time the two of them strained against each other in the dark. Hands touching through clothes, under clothes…mouths open and hot, tongues thrusting.

  When he eventually came up for air, Logan realized a few things. One—his back was gonna seize unless he found something to lie down on—preferably a bed. And two—he’d never been this horny in his entire life. Never.

  Slowly, he let her slide down the length of his body, hissing a little as she rubbed against his aching cock. He smoothed a long, wisp of hair away from her cheek, cupped her face between his hands and bent toward her, sliding the merest whisper of a kiss across her lips.

  She was hot, her skin moist and in his mind the solution to that was simple. Her clothes needed to be on the floor.

  “Are you sure about this, Billie?”

  Her eyes shimmered like a million diamonds sat inside them. She glanced downward, exhaling as she did so. He gripped her chin, suddenly concerned. Had he moved too fast?

  “Hey?”

  She moved her head to the right, just enough so that she could suck on this forefinger, and if his cock was near to bursting before? It was way past the point of no return now.

  “I want you,” she said huskily. And then a little more forcefully as she stepped away. “Now.”

  He scooped her into his arms and made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He flipped the light switch—because there was no way in hell he was not going to see her—and then dimmed it a bit to a softer, more romantic hue.

  She moaned in his arms, her head buried in his neck and all he could think about was how fucking hot she was and how amazing she smelled. Her hair was the softest thing he’d ever felt and he nuzzled the mess that was just under his chin as he walked toward his king size bed.

  Weird was curled into a ball, right in the middle of the mattress. He bent—careful not to drop Billie—and tugged on the cover. Hard.

  The cat woke up, his one good eye blinking slowly, and then he rose into the classic cat pose—spine curved as he stretched languidly. The cat’s tail flickered back and forth, as if he had all the time in the world, which, usually he did, but not tonight. Logan tugged so hard on the cover that Weird nearly lost his footing. The cat meowed, a loud, un-happy meow, and hopped onto the chest at the foot of the bed. Weird’s tail snaked out before it settled around his body as he sat and looked at Logan with interest.

  Logan glanced back toward the bed and then back to the cat. Whatever floats your boat, my friend.

  Billie groaned once more and he realized her fingers had dug into his shoulders as if she was holding on for life.

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  Was something wrong? Maybe her groan didn’t sound so much like a passionate moan but more like a—

  “Oh shit, Logan, my stomach.” She wriggled, flung her arm back and groaned once more as he lowered her to his bed. Her eyes opened briefly while he smoothed another chunk of hair from her forehead. She was hot and clammy and…

  She and rolled over. “I feel gross,” she said haltingly. “My head is spinning and my stomach, uh.”

  Logan stood and rotated his shoulders, exhaling loudly as he stared down at the prone figure in the middle of his bed.

  “Billie?”

  She moved her head and then groaned again, mumbling something he didn’t understand, though he didn’t really need to.

  Billie-Jo Barker was drunk. Drunk and passed out in his bed.

  Weird meowed and hopped back onto the mattress, where he sat inches from Billie and started the long, arduous task of cleaning himself.

  “Shit,” Logan said out loud.

  Then he grabbed a glass of water and some pain meds from his bathroom. He left them on the night table beside his bed, and after one more glance behind him, turned out the light and left Billie alone to sleep it off.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two eyes stared at Billie when she woke up.

  No. She rubbed her eyes and forced them to focus. Correction, one eye.

  Billie rolled over and slowly got up onto her knees as she glanced around a room she knew wasn’t hers. It was early. Outside the sun was just poking through, covering everything in that pre-dawn haze of gray.

  As the memories from the night before poured into her head, she bit her lip and fell back onto the bed. She stretched and her hand sank into the cat that was curled up beside her, absently stroking its fur as she closed her eyes.

  She was in Logan’s bed. Alone.

  A groan slipped from between her lips once more and her cheeks heated up as she thought of the way she’d thrown herself at him. She’d practically begged him to do her in his foyer.

  She grimaced. He should have done her in the foyer because at least then, they could have satisfied this itch that wasn’t going anywhere.

  No. Instead he’d brought her upstairs to his bed. His large—she stretched again—and soft bed. A bed that would have been perfect for all the fantasies she’d dreamt up over the last few weeks. A bed where she had, instead, passed out like a lightw
eight. She grimaced. Damn wine.

  The cat meowed.

  Yes, she was alone in Logan Forest’s bed with a cat that only had one eye.

  Billie turned onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut. He had left her water and some pills, which she must have downed sometime in the night because she wasn’t hung over.

  Nope, not hung over.

  Just embarrassed and—she slid her legs along the bed, biting her tongue as that all too familiar ache reared its ugly head—horny as all hell.

  Billie’s eyes flew open and she sat up again. Where was Logan?

  Her gaze darted around his room, a room which surprised her. It was masculine for sure, with deep cherry wood furniture, sage green walls and such. But it was classy. There was art on the wall, tasteful paintings that caught her eye.

  She rolled off the bed, her eyes and fingers touching things—private things—that belonged to Logan. She eyed his college diploma, displayed above an antique desk near a sitting area. A pair of jeans was slung over the chair there, and his shoes were on the floor. A fire place was on the wall opposite the bed, and the table nearby was stacked with books.

  She wandered over to his bathroom. Again, it was clean and free of clutter. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, touched lips that were still bruised from his kisses the night before.

  She spied a tube of toothpaste on the counter and she grabbed it, running cold water in the sink and using her fingers to freshen her mouth.

  She splashed cold water on her face, took a drink from the tap and then wandered back out into his bedroom where she paused, gaze moving over the bed and the cat—a cat that was just about the ugliest thing she’d ever seen—and then she stopped at the bedroom door.

  Billie wasn’t sure what was going through her brain, but it didn’t matter really since her body seemed to have a mind of its own. She let herself out of his room and found herself on the upper level of a beautiful century home. The window at the far end—the one that looked out over the front of the house—was stain glass. And on either side of the stairs were two sets of doors. Four bedrooms in total.

  So which one held Logan?

  Carefully she started forward, her bare feet gliding over the worn hardwood. She paused, grimacing when a loud creak sounded underfoot, but then continued forward, her mind set. Her intention clear.

  She opened the doors on her right but both rooms were empty. Carefully she made her way to the other side of the landing and opened the door, closest to his bedroom.

  She peeked inside and bit her lip. Jackpot.

  Logan was asleep in the bed—on his stomach with his arms flung above his head. The sheets—sweet Jesus—but the sheets were riding his hips so low she was able to see the rise at the top of his ass and it was obvious…

  Her mouth went dry as she eyed that yummy tattoo she had first spied in the changing room.

  Maybe not obvious, but the man seemed to be completely, totally and unequivocally…naked.

  Billie’s chest rose and fell as the ache between her legs intensified. Before she knew what she was doing—before she could tell herself, no, her body reacted.

  Her hands went to the snap on her jeans and she carefully slid them down her hips until she stepped out of them and tossed them to the side. Her panties came next and then the sweater and bra.

  In seconds she stood only a few feet from the man she’d yearned for all of her life it seemed. She was vulnerable and, aware…

  As naked as she hoped Logan was.

  She’d never felt more alive than in this moment.

  Billie walked toward the bed until she was inches from him. She cocked her head to the side so that she could see him better. So she could study the planes and lines of his face without him seeing the yearning and need in her own.

  His features looked younger as he slept, and that stubble on his chin, the very stubble that had excited her the day before, was darker yet. Darker, thicker, and hotter.

  She bent down, fingers inches from the mouth that she wanted more than anything and then she touched him, breath held as electric pulses exploded all over her body. Her stomach rolled— not from queasiness—but from excitement. From need and want and the knowledge that only he could assuage the ache inside.

  If she was brave enough to slide into bed with him.

  His eyes flew open suddenly and she froze, her hand backing away, but his arm snaked out and he grabbed hold of her wrist. He grabbed her so strongly and roughly that she stumbled forward.

  And then she was all tangled up with Logan Forest—a mess of body parts, of hard edges and soft curves.

  And when the dust finally settled he was on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, his legs and hips holding her prisoner. The blanket was long gone and Billie-Jo couldn’t help the grin that settled onto her face as every nerve in her body responded. She’d been right.

  Logan was as naked as the day he’d been born. And they were skin on skin.

  His eyes studied her carefully, moving slowly downward until he settled on her heaving chest. He arched an eyebrow, a wicked smile gracing his mouth as he glanced back into her eyes.

  “Mornin’,” he said huskily. “This is a surprise.”

  Her heart was beating so rapidly she wasn’t sure she could speak. She opened her mouth in an attempt to say something but couldn’t because he leaned down and his mouth ate whatever the heck it was she was going to say anyway.

  He kissed her so slowly, so softly—as if he tasted every single inch of her mouth—that when she finally came up for air, she could barely breathe. Her entire body was on fire, and as loose and as limp as a noodle.

  He’d done that to her, with just one kiss.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with rasp as he bent forward again and nuzzled the sensitive area beneath her ear. “And your hair drives me crazy.”

  He let her arms go and she immediately wrapped them around his neck, pulling him back down because she wasn’t done with the whole kissing thing. She’d heard her girlfriends go on and on about the actual act of sex—of the penetration and all that—but they never talked about the kissing, about making out. About how two people could communicate so much just by the way their tongues and lips and mouths talked to each other.

  He groaned as she thrust her tongue inside him. She felt one hand at the back of her head while his other began its own exploration. Rough finger pads traced a line of fire down her collar bone until he settled on one of her nipples. Her breast swelled beneath his touch and she arched into him.

  He paused when he reached her right side and tore his mouth away for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “I could kill that bastard for what he did to you.” Gently he traced her stitches with his tongue. “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” she whispered. Nothing hurt when she was with him.

  He claimed a turgid nipple once more and when he dragged his lips away from hers, she protested until his hot mouth closed around the other nipple and the sensations that his hand and mouth achieved together were enough to drive her completely insane.

  Each tug of his teeth, each suck and pull on her nipple, shot straight down her body to that moist part of her that ached. Her hips began to buck and rotate on their own and Logan kissed each nipple before grinning wickedly down at her, as his other hand went lower, skidding over her abdomen and stopping briefly where her belly button ring was.

  The irises of his eyes widened and his gaze was intense as he held her eyes prisoner, his hand continuing down, caressing the flesh of her hip before going even lower. She couldn’t breathe. The anticipation was killing her.

  Billie’s legs were open and she was waiting, yearning for his touch.

  And when he stopped she nearly choked.

  Sweat beaded along his forehead, his beautiful eyes looked stormy, passionate and sexy-as-hell.

  “I can’t hold back if we keep going, Billie,” he said gruffly.

  She knew he was giving her an out and she loved him for that. How
many men in this situation would even think of holding back?

  She swallowed, not trusting herself to speak, and lowered her own hand until she grabbed his and guided him toward the part of her that ached for his touch.

  When he slid his fingers into the slick folds between her legs, she whimpered and he froze once more.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, pulling his head down because she had to kiss him again. “Don’t ever stop.”

  Their tongues danced together as his fingers stretched and teased, and then his fingers found that sweet spot, the one that drove her crazy. Moments later she came, screaming into his mouth as he kissed her savagely, and moved his heavy body overtop of hers.

  His erection was heavy and thick against her belly as he propped most of his weight up on his elbows, so that he could look down at her.

  Billie’s heart swelled to the point that tears pricked the corner of her eyes. She loved this man. She loved him with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t love him in some way and as she’d gotten older, her feelings had changed—her love had changed.

  But it had never gone away.

  A lump formed in her throat. It would never go away. She knew this now.

  If only she could tell him.

  “Hey,” he reached down and kissed her nose. He was still breathing heavy, still wired and tight.

  Tendons strained along his shoulders and biceps as he hovered over top of her. His thick hair was mussed, his eyes, dark and fathomless. He was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen and they were far from done.

  Billie reached up and sank her hands into his thick hair. She pushed him backward, her mouth on his, until he rolled to the side and she was out from underneath him. She broke their kiss, panting from the effort, and her breasts swelled, her nipples pebbled at the scorching look in his eyes when she sat back on her knees.

  As his gaze moved past her breasts and headed south, she leaned back on her haunches, spreading her legs slightly so he could see exactly how wet she was.