Lucy suddenly seemed shy. "Yeah. I can't sleep in them. They irritate my eyes. Different from the blue, huh?"
"Different meaning better? Then absolutely, hands down. Green is definitely your color."
She smiled slightly in the dim light. "Just like everything else from my former life, they are different. It's like looking at a stranger in the mirror every day. That and this ridiculous blonde hair."
She fingered one of her curls. The look was in stark contrast to the pin straight locks of earlier in the day.
"Well, I like your natural look. The tousled curls look kinda sexy." Logan grinned at her sheepishly, a little embarrassed that he had blurted out his true feelings. He never did that.
Lucy flushed a deep crimson as she tried to smooth her wild hair into a knot. "You would think that after a year the nightmares would finally stop but they just seem to get worse. I cannot remember the last
time I actually slept through the night."
"My guess is it was the last time you felt safe."
"That's a good guess."
"Well, you are safe tonight so you should take advantage of it." He smiled at her from the doorway of the bedroom. "I will be out here just a few feet away if you need anything. Try to get back to sleep for a few hours."
He turned to leave but stopped when she called softly. "Will you stay? Please?" She sounded so wistful it nearly broke his heart.
"I'm not going anywhere. I already told you I'll be right out here."
"I know. That's not what I meant." She patted the comforter beside her. "I want to know if you will stay here. With me. I don't want to be alone."
She wanted him to stay in the bed with her. Oh, man. Could he do that? It had been way too long since he had been close to any woman; especially one he was attracted to. Lucy peered up at him from her own green eyes, big and round and vulnerable, and there was absolutely no way he could say no.
"If it will help you sleep better then I'll stay."
"It will," she whispered.
Logan closed the distance to the bed as she shifted over to one side. Kicking off his boots, he settled down next to her stretched out on his back. His hand brushed her side briefly sending intense sparks of electricity up his arm that made him lightheaded.
Calm down, man. It's not like you never spent the night next to a woman before.
Truth be told, he hadn't spent quite as many nights as others might think. Despite his flirty bachelor persona, Logan avoided love and relationships. It
terrified him to think that he might one day be like his father. What if anger and abuse were genetic and he had inherited all the best that his father had to offer? No way was that ever going to happen. He prided himself on his lack of feeling toward any one female. It was best that way, and there wasn't anything a woman could do for him that he couldn't do for himself. So why was it that the quiet sound of Lucy breathing in the dark had his entire body aflame with something like desire?
"Thank you, Logan," Lucy whispered. "Thank you again for finding me tonight and thank you for staying with me now. This is the safest I have felt in over a year."
She rolled over to face him, big green eyes, so much prettier than the blue contacts she wore, glistening with unshed tears. He got the feeling that she didn't cry much despite how much she had to cry over.
Logan rolled to face her. Unable to resist even if he had wanted to, he reached up and pushed a curl away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. He was really starting to enjoy doing that.
"Lucy?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'd rather call you Angelina, if that is all right with you. It suits you much better than Lucy."
She was quiet for so long that Logan feared she had fallen asleep. Just when he was about to drift off himself, she spoke softly. "I would like that."
"Angelina it is then."
Lucy...Angelina...smiled at him sleepily. "It's been so long since I have heard someone else say my name. It's a little like music to my ears. The powers that be chose Lucy Taylor for me. So generic."
"Generic like Logan Smith?" He laughed. “At
least my blond is natural."
She laughed. "I know, right? It's hideous, isn't it? But they made me do it. The Ricci family is very powerful with contacts around the world. Witsec wanted to disguise me as much as possible. A loud New York Italian girl with wild curls would stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this. Of course," she sighed wistfully, "all the disguises in the world didn't work or we wouldn't be here now."
"I won't lie, Angelina, I am sort of glad we are here right now."
She peered up at him, suddenly not looking at all sleepy. It was a moment in time when he wished he could read minds because Angelina's expression was shuttered up tight, her eyes darkening with some sort of inner turmoil. He'd just about convinced himself that he should've kept his mouth shut when she finally spoke.
"I like it when you say my name. My real name, I mean. I...I am sort of glad we are here too. Aside from the almost dying part. I am not glad some hired gun courtesy of Salvatore Ricci is trying to take me out. But if I had to be stuck here with someone..." Her words trailed off as her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Logan was starting to figure out that nerves drove her to run on sentences. It was adorable, especially the way her blush deepened as he lightly traced the outline of her lips with his fingertip.
"I think I might kiss you now. You okay with that, Angelina Ferrara?"
She nodded slightly never taking her eyes from his. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, illuminated only by the lamp in the next room he could see in her eyes that she was very okay with it.
The second their lips touched, Logan's body erupted in flames. Every nerve in his body fired simultaneously and he wanted more. Pulling her closer, desperate for as much contact as possible, he sought to deepen the kiss, his tongue probing her lips for permission. Angelina responded with a fire all her own stirring his passion to almost unbearable levels. He pulled back, breaking contact and instantly felt cold and empty.
"Wow," he whispered against her lips.
"What's wrong?" Angelina whispered back, confusion in her voice.
"Absolutely nothing. Why would you think something was wrong?" His heart was still racing in his chest.
"Because, well, because you stopped."
How could he ever explain to her what he had just felt?
Rolling her onto her back so that he was poised above her, his hands lightly pinning her wrists against the mattress Logan stared down at her but she refused to meet his eyes.
"Angelina. Angelina, look at me."
"It's okay, Logan. Really, it is. Salvatore always told me I was...I was terrible at that. I should have warned you."
"You loved a man who told you that you were a horrible kisser? What was wrong with that dimwitted Italian?"
Angelina looked confused. "You mean it wasn't awful for you? I mean, when you pulled away so fast..."
Her words were lost as Logan dropped his head and pressed his lips against hers once again. This time he ignored the flashes of light, the burning of his skin,
and the lightheaded feeling that threatened to render him unconscious. This time he moved his lips against hers nipping lightly, pressing his tongue against her lips requesting permission on the most primal level to deepen the kiss and show her just what she did to him.
Angelina struggled to free her wrists from his hold, and he obliged even as his tongue moved inside her mouth, engaged in a sensuous yet almost aggressive tango with hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his body down against hers. If she had any doubts about his attraction to her, he was fairly certain the hard pressure against the length of her thigh resolved them as she moaned huskily beneath him.
Wanting to touch her everywhere, feel her soft skin under his rough fingertips but not wanting to frighten her or move too quickly, Logan knew he had to cool the passion between them enough to pull back without making her think he was repulsed by her a
gain. Rubbing his hands up her sides, his fingers made their way to the arms that held him around the neck. As he backed away ever so slowly, peppering her cheeks and neck with tiny kisses, he loosened the hold she had on him until he was able to drop down on one side of her. Refusing to cut contact completely, however, Logan held her against his chest and buried his face in her thick hair. Even that simple action turned up the heat deep in his gut.
They stayed like that until her breathing returned to normal and the pounding of her heart against his chest settled into an even rhythm. Finally, Angelina spoke.
"Wow." She breathed huskily against his neck. The single word accompanied by her warm breath set his body on fire again.
"That is why I pulled back before. I wasn't prepared for the...the intensity of my reaction. I was...sort of, afraid of my own response to you and what it might make me do."
She rubbed her hands against his chest, making tiny circles against the cotton fabric of the T-shirt he had thrown on while she was in the shower earlier. The simple movement turned his desire back up to full blast. He took several deep breaths, trying to get a hold of the foreign feelings before speaking again.
"I didn't have the...best...example of how men should treat women while I was growing up. The only time my parents were ever intimate was when my father forced himself on my mother. Even at the age of twelve, I knew what was happening when she screamed out in fear and pain from their bedroom. I don't want to be like him."
He dropped his head against her hair, breathing deeply as he fought to steady himself against the onslaught of emotion threatening to break free.
"You don't frighten me, Logan. You could never be like that. There isn't a violent bone in your body."
"You hardly know me. I'm the offspring of an abusive, rapist killer. Who knows what I am capable of? You have no viable reason at all whatsoever to feel safe with me."
"Abuse, rape, murder—those are not inherited traits."
"Maybe. Maybe not. There is no denying that they are learned behaviors though. Children of abusive parents grow up to abuse their own children all the time. Abuse begets abuse, isn't that what they say?"
"Plenty of abused children grow up to be
perfect, loving parents too, you know. It's a choice, Logan, and one you have obviously made to not follow in your father's footsteps. Cut yourself a break would you?" She paused a moment. "Nothing ever felt like that with Salvatore."
He had to agree. He had kissed quite a few women in his day but none had elicited the sort of physical or emotional responses that Angelina fired up in him. Reaching up, he stroked her hair gently. It felt so good, so right, to be there, together in each other's arms despite the fact that they really barely knew each other. For the first time, the eternally cold feeling in his soul began to warm. He was almost grateful to his lieutenant for forcing him into that undercover gig. Logan smiled as he played with a lock of her hair. "I think I'm glad to hear you say that."
Angelina offered up a smile of her own as she curled up against him; her small, soft body sent a rush of warmth through his veins once again. Perhaps it was just the direness of the situation that had her there, close to him. Maybe she was as desperate for human contact as he was, and that was all there was to it. It was likely that their passion was fueled by the stress of the situation, but, if that was the case, he could live with it. He would never forget the feel of her lips under his own, the soft curve of her body against his as though they were made to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. If only for tonight, it was enough to keep him going for a long time. He sighed against her hair, and she peered up at him out of eyes dark with emotion.
Fear?
Or was it desire? He preferred to think it was from the latter.
"Why don't you sleep for a little while? I'll keep
an eye on things around here."
"Will you stay right here?" There was a hint of a plea in her voice that wasn't necessary; he would have done anything she asked of him.
"Nothing could drag me away."
He felt her smile against his T-shirt. "Good. I am pretty sleepy." She yawned again, and that was the last sound he heard from Angelina Ferrara.
Chapter Nine
Angelina suddenly felt very alone. The odd, unexplainable feeling drew her awake as she squinted in the dim light trying to figure out where she was and why she was suddenly so cold.
All the events of the previous evening came back to her in a rush. Right up until the moments before she fell into the soundest sleep she had had in a very long time.
So what had woken her from such a deep slumber?
Logan was gone.
Her cheeks flushed as she thought about Logan in the bed with her. She could almost feel his heat as she remembered how it had felt as he pressed his lips against hers. It was no wonder she felt so cold now, she thought as a shiver ran down her spine. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth, she listened for sounds of movement in the tiny cabin. Maybe Logan was asleep on the couch.
But he had promised to stay with her. And she knew he was a man of his word.
So, where was he?
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed,
Angelina winced at the sharp pain that radiated up her torso. She had forgotten about the bruised ribs. As she stood gingerly, every muscle in her body ached in complaint. The warm shower and sound sleep had given her body time to tighten up. She groaned quietly as she rose to her feet.
Suddenly Logan was by her side, his arm around her waist, concern in his clear blue eyes. "It's still early, you should be asleep."
"You promised you'd stay." She sagged against him just a bit. It felt good to draw on someone else's strength for a change. Angelina had been on her own for so long. Alone for so very long. But was there a risk, opening herself to someone like Logan? Someone she hardly knew but now knew her deepest secrets.
"I did stay. I got up just a few minutes ago to check the perimeter and dig out some coffee and breakfast supplies. It's been a long time since dinner last night." He smiled down at her, eyes twinkling even in the dimness of early morning. The mention of food reminded her that her last meal had been lunch the day before. She was famished, evidenced by the loud growl that sounded from her stomach.
They both laughed as Angelina dropped back down onto the edge of the bed, her aching muscles begging her for relief.
"Not only am I apparently half starved"—she laughed again as her stomach let out another loud complaint at its empty state—"but I am aching all over. I guess the excitement of yesterday has finally caught up with me."
"You should try and grab another bit of rest while I whip up something to satisfy your hunger." Even as he spoke, she eyed him heatedly.
"Or at least fill my stomach," she whispered huskily.
Electricity arched between them. Angelina had a hunger deep in her gut that no breakfast burrito was going to satisfy. It intrigued her as much as frightened her the way her senses reeled when Logan was so close.
Finally, hesitantly, Angelina dropped her gaze, lingering on Logan's lips as she spoke. "I suppose I could probably stand to rest a little bit longer..."
"That's my girl." He leaned over and kissed her forehead, soft and gentle like her mother used to when she was a child, sick in bed with a fever. Only her mother's kiss didn't set her body on fire with desire the way Logan's did. Unable to fight the need, or not wanting to, Angelina reached up and wrapped her arms around Logan's neck, drawing him down to her until their lips nearly touched. After a brief hesitation, she closed the miniscule gap between them and kissed Logan with a passion she had never felt with anyone ever before and especially not with Salvatore.
He held back for the briefest of moments. Angelina sensed his resistance right before she felt it weaken then disappear completely as he crushed his lips against hers. She gave herself willingly to his probing tongue.
Angelina had no idea how long they held each other, or how long they would have if they hadn't heard
the noise.
"What was that?" she whispered against Logan's lips. His body had stiffened against hers so she knew he heard it too.
"I'm not sure." His whisper was barely discernible as he slowly pulled away from her. "Stay here while I check it out."
"Like hell. I'm coming with you. What if you need back up?"
A loud creak sounded. This time they knew exactly where it had come from—the tiny front porch. Someone was walking, slowly, across the creaky old boards.
"Someone's here. Did you tell anyone where we were?" Angelina couldn't even begin to hide the panic in her voice. She should have known Salvatore's lackey would find them. There was no way his men would let her get away. The men that he employed to do his dirty work were assassins; bloodhounds that could track anyone, make them disappear without even a ripple in the atmosphere. No one who loved her knew where she was or that she was even alive. Last she had heard the funeral services in her honor had been lavish and full of grief stricken Italian relatives sobbing and eating their weight in cannoli and pastry.
No one knew she was alive except Salvatore.
How had he found her? How did he know she was alive when the rest of her world thought she had perished in a firefight down at Chelsea Piers?
Another loud creak sounded and the quiet footsteps halted along with her thoughts of her family. Logan inched toward the bedroom door. From the doorway there would be a clear shot to the front door. It was exactly what Logan was thinking, she was certain, because he already had his Glock 9mm poised and ready to shoot whatever came through the cabin's main door.
Angelina still felt naked and helpless without her own gun. All the years she was a cop, she never went anywhere without her sidearm. The last year had been difficult for her. Going gun free left her feeling
exposed and more like a victim than a trained police officer with a near perfect shot. She wasn't going to be a victim anymore. When this was over she was getting her gun out of the safety deposit box and going back to New York City.
In the meantime, Logan needed her to back him up. Angelina scanned the small room for something she could use as a weapon. The sturdy lamp on the bedside table caught her eye. Grabbing up the heavy fixture, she tossed the shade aside and yanked the cord from the wall receptacle.
Witness Protection (Defenders of Love Book 1) Page 8
