by Susan Elle
“Don’t, Catherine, it is my fault entirely. I’m old enough to behave better than that...I’m the one who should apologise.” Moving back behind his desk to compose himself, Logan sits down heavily. His loss of control has been as shocking to him as it has evidently been to her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you like that,” his voice is now soft and comforting. He indicates the chair across from him, “Please, sit down. I promise you, you’re quite safe,” and smiles to reinforce his declaration.
After taking her seat Catherine stares at her hands in her lap, then quietly takes what for her is a huge leap of faith. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. “I’m a virgin,” she blurts out bluntly. “The only experience I’ve ever had with men wasn’t what anyone would call gentle or romantic.” She would have stood, longed to pace about, to grind the memory of her old boss and her mother’s death into the luxurious carpet, but isn’t at all sure that her legs can support her. Why are they trembling so badly and why isn’t the throb between her thighs going away? Instead she sits, just waiting for his condemnation of her teasing behaviour; egging him on one minute only to pull away when he began taking her up on her blatant offer the next. Way to go, Colson!
Logan is too busy berating himself to start on Catherine. He stares across his desk to the carpet where they had stood. Could envisage himself taking her right there; greedily tearing her clothes off to get at the soft curves of the beautiful body he knows is hidden beneath them. What a gift he marvels, one that he had so very nearly taken without the gentleness and care that such a gift demands.
A brisk knock on the office door announces the arrival of their lunch. Logan’s PA serves it with quiet efficiency, and after establishing that they do not require anything else just now, she just as quietly leaves the room.
“I want you to come to Lakelands with me,” Logan tells her, making more of a statement than posing an invitation. “It’s a small holding in the shires of Branting, just south of the Midlands,” he explains, then waits for her response, not realising that he is holding his breath.
“I’d really like to but there’s Ben to think of,” Catherine replies.
If she had punched him in the gut, she could not have felled him more thoroughly. Indeed, his held breath comes out in a deflating whoosh. “What...?” he asks almost angrily. But Catherine is quick to realise her mistake. Fuck!
“No, no...” she holds up a hand of peace, “...I don’t mean like that,” she assures him. “It’s just the Kingsley account; it’s coming to a head now and I don’t want to just dump it all on Ben’s shoulders. It wouldn’t be fair,” she offers, holding her hands palms up in the air in an expression of helplessness. Then presses nervously on when Logan doesn’t make any attempt to reply. “And then there are the new accounts waiting to be evaluated. I can’t just drop everything and take off for a few days,” she appeals, realising that she is almost pleading with him. Be reasonable.
“There will always be new contracts, Catherine. But I think you need to take some time for yourself just now.” He smiles winningly. “And anyway, I thought you held Ben’s tech skills in high regard?”
Tricky. Tricky.
“I do...,” she confirms hesitantly, knowing that he is neatly boxing her in.
You know you want to go so why procrastinate.
“That’s fine then,” he concludes with enthusiastic gusto. “If you’ve finished eating, let’s go,” and he steers her out of his office, gives a smiling nod to his secretary who is obviously in on his plans, then urges Catherine to step into his private lift.
“Logan...” she begins, but he silences her with a kiss.
This time he is gentle, showing her the pleasure without the fear. His tongue still invades, sending shivers down her spine, but there is none of the frenzy of earlier. By the time they reach the underground car park, Catherine is gloriously breathless, while Logan looks very self-satisfied.
Who would have thought...that is...mmm.
“Logan, we can’t just take off this minute,” she exclaims; but is laughing at the prospect of doing just that. “I don’t have any clothes, and neither do you,” she giggles, feeling suddenly reckless and carefree.
“Right on the first count,” he corrects, also smiling broadly. “I have a wardrobe full of clothes at my father’s house, so no problem there. And, by the time we’ve finished shopping, you won’t be short of clothes either.”
Shit, not bloody shopping!
The boutique that Logan takes her to steals Catherine’s breath away. The designs are gorgeous but when she makes a b-line for the trousers section Logan steers her firmly away. “Today is about all things feminine,” he tells her, giving a conspiratorial smile to the sales clerk. He walks her round the shop, pulling out dresses, skirts and tops for her to try on. The sales clerk follows on behind, smiling and nodding her approval at his taste, and carrying some of the items when Logan’s arms are full.
“Will you stop!” Are you crazy or what? Catherine laughs when she eyes the growing pile of clothes she is expected to try on. “If we are really going to your father’s today, we don’t have time for me to try on the whole of the stock.” I’m only going to look an idiot in them anyway.
“We are going to my father’s today and we will make time for you to try on everything that we’ve picked out,” he says firmly, not giving her any room for excuses. Bloody hell!
The sales clerk hangs all the clothes on a rack in the changing area, passing them through one outfit at a time. “Holy shit!” Catherine’s shocked exclamation rings the length of the changing rooms; Logan just smiles winningly at the sales woman. “I imagine she just saw the price tag. Better cover your ears when she gets to the blue dress and jacket, her language will no doubt match the colour.” He is chuckling deeply as he says it.
The sales woman has heard it all before, of course. Many women balk at the prices, but all appreciate the quality and style of the exclusive designs.
Logan insists on seeing Catherine in each of the outfits with shoes to match – nodding and smiling his approval and encouragement when she needs it, or shaking his head when something doesn’t suit. And she blushes crimson when Logan tries to pick out underwear; whispering to the sales clerk, Catherine gives the woman her cup size and her usual size in panties, then tells her to pack five sets in different colours and no she won’t be trying them on, thank you very much.
“Spoil-sport,” Logan jokes when he overhears the last part. Perve! Then he takes out a credit card from his wallet and makes to pay the bill.
Well fuck a duck; he thinks he can buy me!
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Catherine asks, staggered that he actually thinks she will let him pay. “I’m not some floozy you just picked up; I can pay for my own clothes, thank you,” then thrusts her own card at the sales clerk who is looking from one to the other not wanting to offend either of them.
“Calm down, will you,” he placates softly. “I just wanted to treat you. After all, the shopping trip was my idea and I enjoy buying things for my friends; what’s the point of having money if you can’t enjoy spending it?” he cajoles.
Just don’t get any funny ideas, matey!
She hesitates. Catherine can see that he is being earnest, but cannot take such an elaborate gift. “Ok...” she concedes reluctantly “...we’ll go halves, and that’s my final word.” Too damn right!
He laughs uproariously. “You do know, most women would snap a man’s hand off when he offers to buy her a whole new wardrobe of clothes? But then you’re not most women, are you Catherine?” He gently cups her crimson cheek and drops a kiss on her forehead.
The sales clerk finishes the transaction, giving Catherine a smile and a nod of respect that both surprises and delights her.
The drive to Lakelands is swift, making best use of the motorways and the comfortable speed of Logan’s car. “About another half hour should see us there,” he grins at Catherine.
She turns to look at him. He has a rela
xed smile on his face that reaches up into eyes full of love. Love for his father, She wonders? Or perhaps it is a love of Lakelands, a feeling of coming home? “You look so content,” she ventures softly. “Does going to Lakelands still feel like going home?”
I can hardly remember what home and family feels like. Will I ever know?
Turning soft, chocolate brown eyes to look at her, Logan’s smile deepens. “You are very intuitive...,” he reaches out to cover her hand with his, “...and correct. It has a restorative effect on me. I always come away feeling like a part of Lakelands comes with me, enough to maintain me until the next time I need to come home.” Giving her hand a squeeze, he moves his back to the steering wheel as the road narrows and winds hazardously.
“How lovely.” Her voice is wistful, dreamy. “All that space, all that room to breathe in the tranquillity of your own little piece of paradise.”
Even in the dim light of late evening, Catherine can appreciate the beauty of the countryside. Stone built walls, crafted by skilled hands, are still standing after tens, or maybe even hundreds of years. Hedgerows standing neat and tall provide homes for wildlife and form windbreakers across the fields. She watches as a large grey horse rears up at something she can’t see or hear, then gallops off with mane and tail flying.
Oh, to be a horse. The freedom. The speed. The knackers’ yard!
Logan doesn’t speak, not wanting to break the spell, until he knows that Lakelands is coming into view. Turning a wide bend in the road, Logan smiles broadly. “There she is,” he points in front and off to the left.
The evening sky is now red and gold, the sun spilling its last rays over the waters of Lakelands. The many windows glitter like jewels, and the house, which is almost a mansion, stands regal and all alone.
“Oh, Logan,” she can’t say anymore, the sheer beauty has stolen all her words away. Beautiful. Just beautiful.
They drive the rest of the way in quiet anticipation.
Hearing their car door slam, Logan’s father, Henry, opens the front door to greet them.
As tall as his son, Henry claps Logan on his back then turns a welcoming smile on Catherine. “Do you have any luggage?” Henry moves towards the boot of the car preparing to carry a suitcase or two, but when the boot pops, he gets an eyeful of the shopping bags and clothing still on their hangers with polythene covers. Raising curious eyebrows over at Catherine, Henry can’t help but notice the colour rising in her cheeks.
“It’s his fault,” she points accusingly at Logan. “The man wouldn’t take no for an answer – just kept piling things on until I all but bought the whole bloody shop!” Catherine looks aggrieved and embarrassed, then flushes even deeper when both men turn to face each other and laugh uproariously.
“Don’t you worry,” Henry tells her, his old brown eyes still glittering with laughter, “his mother was just the same. Ellie didn’t compromise on anything, if she couldn’t make her mind up between a blue dress and a red suit she’d just buy them both. It seems Logan enjoys shopping, too.” Tell me about it!
Between them, all the shopping bags, boxes and hangers find their way up to a bedroom that Henry has had made up for Catherine. “You make yourself comfortable,” Henry turns to leave, “I’ve already got supper cooking. Just come down when you’re ready – it’s nothing that will spoil.”
Logan has gone to put the car away and Catherine is glad of some time alone. The bedroom is simply, but beautifully furnished. Admiring the deep bronze curtains that hang at the French windows, Catherine looks out on a balcony. She imagines it would be the perfect place to curl up with a book on a warm evening. Turning to the double bed, she trails her fingers over the beautiful patchwork quilt. Such a skilful blending of so many autumnal colours, with pillows and decorative cushions to match; Catherine can only assume that Henry has a housekeeper, or someone who comes in to help with the house. She definitely cannot see her very masculine host picking out matching cushions, curtains and other soft furnishings. Walking over to a large wardrobe, her toes now scrunching deeply into beige carpet that feels soft enough to sleep on, Catherine begins the tedious job of hanging up her new clothes and putting all the other items away.
Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly a couple of times helps to steady Catherine’s erratic heartbeat and calms her nerves. “He seems nice,” Catherine tells herself as she closes the bedroom door, making her way to the staircase, “not too scary, anyway...”
“Not scary at all,” Logan interjects behind her then has to shoot out a hand to steady Catherine as she span around, almost toppling off the top step.
“Holy shit!” Hand grasping her now furiously beating heart, her lungs desperately trying to recapture the breath that has been scared out of her, Catherine turns huge blue, startled eyes on Logan. What the fuck!
“I’m sorry,” he manages, trying heroically but failing to stifle a laugh that has his whole body shaking with it.
“You...you...,” fighting to free herself from his firm grip, Catherine very nearly topples them both down the staircase, “get off me...get off me, you oaf!”
Realising that Catherine is genuinely upset, Logan sobers quickly. “Catherine, stop – just stop!” he orders gently, but as her arms still fight for freedom, he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls her roughly to him, traps her arms with his and steals all her protests with a kiss.
The moment their mouths meet, she is lost. His scent. His taste. Him.
She stills immediately. Instead of the fight or flight response, her body is now responding to something just as primal, just as compelling, and with just the same degree of passion. His lips, gentle at first, have opened to the forceful demand of her tongue. She tastes him now, searching for and giving everything to the kiss. Her arms are now free and her hands reach up and fist in the back of his hair; he isn’t close enough, not deep enough, not...not...
His head exploding, his loins burning, Logan manages to break away. “If we don’t stop now I’m afraid I won’t be able to.” He is visibly trembling, and Catherine feels a liberating sense of power to think that she can make this man mountain quiver with need.
“Who says we have to?” She holds his puzzled gaze for a long moment. “I trust you.” In that single moment, having uttered the words, Catherine knows them to be true. Right from that first meeting when their hands had touched and a jolt of electricity had passed between them, she had known he was a danger to her equilibrium. And she had been afraid. But no longer.
It is a simple declaration that is almost his undoing. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He tries to put even some small distance between them, but Catherine just closes it again. “Catherine, please...I’m not a saint...”
Her smile is dangerous and determined. “Neither am I.” Reaching up she slowly pulls his head down, her eyes never leaving his even when their mouths meet. Catherine watches his brown eyes melt, then fire with his growing need. Pressing her aching body into him, she feels the hardness of that need, but this time she isn’t afraid. “Let me take you to bed, Logan?”
Her whispered words are an invitation that he cannot resist. “Are you sure?” She nods and smiles, but Logan searches her face before swinging her up into his arms. Striding to her bedroom, he closes the door behind them before he dares take another breath. He wants her so badly, but he has to go slowly. Not only doesn’t he want to frighten her, he wants to give her as much of a gift as she is offering him. He will be so gentle; will give her the tenderness that no one else has.
Lifting her jumper over her head, Logan gazes on the youthful beauty that is Catherine. “If you want me to stop, at any time, I promise you I will.” It is a promise he knows he will keep, whatever the cost to his sanity. His lips gently touch and his tongue teases against her mouth. Then he begins a slow exploration of her face, her ears, and her lovely neck. Oh my.
Catherine’s head is spinning, her body pleading for something she doesn’t understand. Her nipples are now so hard, all but pushing t
hrough the cotton of her bra. And she can feel the wetness of her panties. If she doesn’t get naked soon her clothes will surely combust.
Her hands find the elasticated waistband of her tracky bottoms; her thumbs hook inside and begin to tug them down, but Logan stops her. “There’s no rush, Catherine. Let me pleasure you and take you to places you never dreamed of.” He unfastens her bra, letting it fall to the floor then tastes her until her breath comes in gasping gulps and her fingers dig into his shoulders. Her legs are trembling so badly that he lifts her onto the bed to save her falling. Looking down at her, he can see the plea in her eyes. Logan knows she has no idea what she is pleading for, but he will show her, will allow her the time to experience and explore those needs fully.
He did take off her trousers then and, standing at the foot of the bed gazing down at the miracle of her, removes his own clothing to give her the chance to see him naked. He hears a gasp escape her lips. “I won’t hurt you, Catherine,” he reassures her softly, “and you can say no at any time.”
She watches as he kneels on the bed at her feet then quivers hotly as he opens her legs to move between them. Her panties are still on, but when he lowers his head to taste her through them, she lets out an involuntary scream of pleasure. His gentle hands move under her bottom, sliding beneath her pants to cup her buttocks.
Arching her back off the bed, Catherine’s head thrashes side to side as his tongue, teeth and lips graze, bite and tease her mercilessly, while his knowing hands knead her buttocks. “Please...,” she screams.
His thumb pulls her cotton pants to one side and the next scream Catherine gives is in shock as much as for the pleasure that tears through her. His tongue is inside her now, finding every sensitive nerve ending, sending her body into the blissful spasms of her first orgasm. Before she has fully come down, he replaces his tongue with expert fingers and his mouth finds her breasts. He takes her back up, her fingers grasping at the bedding trying to stay her, but he makes her fly. “Let go, Catherine.” Logan takes her lips and his tongue plunders her mouth as his fingers plunder the growing heat of her sex.
