4 Play

by Quinn, Cari

  Logan loosened his grip on her hips. She winced as he flexed against her thighs and his semi-hard cock stroked against her swollen tissues.

  Live wire.

  So appropriate. Even if her actions were anything but. On the stage, propped on a guitar trunk. Jesus, she didn’t even know where she’d flung her underwear. Or had Logan tossed them away?

  All she knew is that her panties were currently somewhere to her left. Logan was still inside of her, his dark blond hair practically a halo thanks to the spotlight over his shoulder. Surely there had to be devil horns hidden under the hair. No man could, or should, know her body so intimately on the first try.

  Or was it just the fact that they’d been building up to this for days?

  Would he finally be out of her system now? Maybe now she could breathe and concentrate again. And just maybe, each time she closed her eyes, she wouldn’t see a pair of bottle green ones ready to devour her. Maybe his scent wouldn’t live inside of her head anymore.

  He kissed up her neck and found her mouth. This time it was a soft and lingering touch. His fingertips coasted up her bare spine to her shoulder blades before slid his fingers into her hair.

  She couldn’t fight the smile at his serious face. She thought she’d been thinking too loud, but it was nothing compared to the conversation going on in his head. Finally, he caressed her shoulders again, then drew the straps of her dress up. He dipped his head and swirled his tongue around each nipple before he covered them. She shuddered, alternately dreading the loss of him inside of her and longing to put this behind her.

  Logan King was a lot for a woman to handle on a good day, let alone in the midst of the stresses of this festival.

  She moaned as he reached between them, his knuckle brushing her stunningly sensitive clit. God, she’d had no idea there were that many orgasms living inside her, let alone unleashed during one crazed moment with him.

  He slowly pulled his length from her and rubbed over her entrance one last time before he turned and took care of the condom. He walked behind the drum riser, and she heard the rustle of a tissue or napkin.

  Felling exposed, she hopped off the trunk and let her skirt fall back down to cover her. Wrong move. Such a wrong move. Her thighs screamed as her knees wobbled. Her body felt empty, as if all sense of rightness had left with Logan.

  She straightened her spine and walked it off. It was just good sex. She’d had good sex before.

  Not like that.

  She scowled at that thought. Okay, so she’d never had sex that good before. It was just chemistry and those guitarist fingers. He was trained to make a woman go cross eyed with lust that was all.

  Logan came out from the back, and she kept on walking. She needed to go and freshen up. She needed to find her underwear—there they were—and burn them. Because there was no way she could put them on after being on the stage. There hadn’t been a live show yet, but it was still dirty and scarred by wheels and boots and equipment.

  “Izzy.”

  She stopped. “I just need to go…freshen up.”

  He moved up behind her and pressed his cheek to hers. “You aren’t running away, are you?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He dragged her back, curling his arm across her belly. “You’re not the only one who wants to make it go away. But it’s not going to. It would be easier if we could just walk away with the itch scratched.”

  She stiffened. “You are not part of my five year plan, Logan.”

  “Plans change.” He turned her around to face him. “Five years is a long time. Let’s start with five days and see where things go.”

  She searched his face. Direct eyes—tired eyes. But there was an openness there that she hadn’t been expecting. He hauled her into his chest and laced his hands at the base of her spine.

  The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Five days, huh?”

  He nuzzled her nose. “At least give me until the end of the festival. Then we can see what’s what.”

  “Okay.” She sighed into him, melted against him, because it felt too good not to. The music was still playing around them even though she’d blanked out on any song after he’d kissed her, and especially after he’d touched her. Blake Shelton’s honeyed voice urged her to lay her head against his chest and let him hold her. “You surprise me.”

  “Why?”

  “Super pop rock star listening to so much country.”

  “Ouch. Pop?”

  She grinned up at him. “You know you’re pop. I miss your old stuff, to be honest.” She winced. “Probably not smart to say.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. ‘Tipping Point’ was the song that got me.”

  “God. A lifetime ago.” He laughed and the sound rumbled under her cheek.

  She settled against him again, easier now. Her body still felt deliciously abused, but her jumpy nerves had calmed. “All that angst-laden music in your twenties. And me in my teens.”

  He groaned. “Don’t remind me. I was an angry kid with no sense. All I cared about was getting away from that boyband image.”

  “Then why are you going back to it?” When he said nothing, she wanted to saw her tongue off with her own teeth. Like she knew anything about him. Cripes, Bella. Way to go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, you’re fine. You’re right. Probably why I’ve been playing every other song but my own for this festival.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Zeke and I keep getting invited to work with younger and younger people. And that’s where the sound is going.”

  “So, worry about your own sound.”

  He dragged his palm up her back then made a return trip with the tips of his fingers. “Easier said than done.”

  She pressed her nose into the center of his chest and dragged in his vanilla spice scent one last time before she took a step back. “You’re Logan fucking King. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

  He grinned down at her, the tip of his tongue bumping against the back of his teeth. “Damn right.”

  That image wasn’t going to leave her anytime soon. Easy and genuine, the man was nothing but smiles now. Good sex did that, obviously, because she was smiling right back at him. “You, my friend, need to bring me home. I have a long day tomorrow. Sharon will be knocking on my door first thing in the morning.”

  “Can I stay?”

  “Nope. I need to sleep. And if I bring you up to my room, there will be no sleeping.”

  His eyebrow rose, giving him a rakish look. “And the problem is?”

  She pushed him back another step. “The problem is, I need to be functioning and not stuck in Orgasmlandia for another six hours.”

  “Six hours? Try eight.”

  “Cocky bastard.”

  He slung his arm around her shoulders. “Why yes, yes I am.”

  “Yeah. You’re definitely going home alone, pal.”

  Logan laughed. “Mean.”

  “You have no idea.” She stopped and scooped up her bra and panties.

  He groaned. “You’re bare under that fucking dress. I was really trying to ignore that fact.”

  Her lips twitched into a smile up at him. “It’s rather freeing and terrifying.”

  “What would your mama say?”

  Bella’s smile slid away. Her mother wouldn’t say anything. Her mother would just sniff disapprovingly. If she noticed at all.

  Logan laced his fingers with hers and helped her stand. “I’m sorry, that was stupid to say.”

  She waved it away. “Don’t worry about it.” She walked ahead, and Logan caught her hand, spinning her around.

  “It was thoughtless.”

  She lifted her hand to his cheek. “You were a good son. Loved your mom, huh?”

  Logan’s lids dropped and his ridiculously long lashes shielded whatever emotions had flickered there. Then he stared right into her eyes. “I did. And I miss her every day.”

  “I remember reading that you lost your mom. I’m so
rry.”

  He shrugged. “Not many secrets when the tabloids pick into every corner of your life.” He kissed her gently. “But thanks.”

  She couldn’t imagine people prying like that. Any sense of privacy was destroyed the more money, and fame a person had. Another reason why she wanted to walk away from him.

  Not because she couldn’t hold up under the scrutiny, but because there would be the promise of it. How many women had been in his life for more than a moment? Five, ten? So many more than that? Had they reveled in his status, or had they longed for privacy like she did?

  He drew her down the stairs to the back of the barn. The heavy door locked behind them as they escaped to the parking lot. Logan caged her against the door of his pickup. “I want this more than I can remember wanting anything, Izzy. I just want you to know that. No matter what happens.”

  She dragged in a breath when he slid his thigh between her legs. She laid her hands on his chest, drawing in the heat and solid strength beneath her palms. Logan ticked off every box in the wrong-for-her column. No solid home base, bad boy written out in the bold, all caps handwriting he used in his setlist, and as far from steady as she could find a definition for.

  Then why did his every touch feel right?

  And why was this moment, in the dark, all she could think about?

  He lifted his hand to her cup her cheek, his long fingers slipping into her hair. He lowered his mouth to hers. None of the previous heat scorched her. In fact, he seemed to be taking special care with her. He lightly sipped from her lips. His touch butterfly light, fragile in a way she never would have expected from this man.

  That was why she wanted nothing more than to run down the path and escape him. This wasn’t the way to get him out of her system. This kind of kiss was an epoxy bond.

  But she didn’t run.

  And that scared her more than anything.

  Fourteen

  The heavy night air was full of her. With a helluva lot of reluctance, and no shortage of willpower, Logan stepped back. He opened the door and boosted her onto the seat.

  Her legs fell open, and he had to tell himself to walk away. He didn’t know if there were photographers hiding around there. He didn’t have the neck tingles he always seemed to get when they were around. With everyone having left the barn well over an hour ago, the chances were slim.

  But he needed one more touch.

  Then he’d shut the door and drive her home.

  He slid his fingers under the hem of her dress up her satiny thighs. The dome light threw most of her face in shadow save for her shiny lips, which opened with an audible sigh. When he got to the top, he traced the back of his hands along her belly then made a return trip down the muscled flesh. He raked his nails down the outsides of her legs, then drew her knees together and spun her to face forward in the seat.

  Borrowing every breathing exercise he’d learned, he made it to the back of the truck where he curled his fingers over the flatbed door. Randy as a teen and twice as hard was his constant state of being around this woman.

  But he had to bide his time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually wanted more than a single night with a woman, so he had to be sure not to scare her off. Izzy held a lot of firsts for him.

  He walked around to the driver side and got into the truck. The trip was silent, as if neither one of them were sure what to say to the other.

  “Where’s your place?”

  “The bookstore.”

  “You live there, too?”

  “There’s an apartment on the third floor.”

  He glanced at her. “And that’s enough for you?”

  Her teeth gleamed in the low light. “More than enough.”

  The tall windows of her brownstone came into view, and he pulled over to park. “It really is a great place.”

  “Thanks. We like it.” She opened her door and turned to him. “Thanks for…well, everything tonight.” She leaned across the bench seat and kissed his cheek.

  He curled his arm around her waist and drew her across the seat into him. There was no way he was ending this night on a chaste kiss. Not when he wanted to make sure there would be a tomorrow. He wanted this night to be as memorable as possible, so she wouldn’t find a way to wiggle out of seeing him again.

  Frustration, lust, and hope were his driving emotions. He poured all of them into the kiss. And when she returned it beat for beat, he demanded more. He kissed her until there wasn’t any oxygen left in the cab of the truck.

  When her fingers crept up his neck to the longer strands of his hair, her grip turned feral. He broke the kiss and panted in her mouth. “Let me come upstairs.”

  She made that little groan-moan thing he was becoming addicted to.

  Playing fair wasn’t in his vocabulary. Not about this. Not about her. He dropped his mouth to her shoulder and scraped his teeth over the warm skin, then moved over to her breast. Unencumbered, he found her nipple easily. It burned against his tongue before he closed his teeth over the tip.

  He flipped the steering wheel up and hauled her onto his lap. Digging fingers into her hips, he groaned when her warmth surrounded his hard-on through his dress pants.

  “I can’t.”

  “Then let me have this. Then I’ll go.” He lowered his hand to the base of her spine and surged beneath her. She was so goddamn wet and right there. He could just open his fly and be inside that tight, fisting warmth again.

  He growled out her name and focused his efforts on her breasts before him. He sucked them through the material, using the friction of the cotton to make her cry out with each bite of his teeth and swipe of his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rode him.

  Sweat dripped between them, and the scent of her excitement dragged him into a place where there was nothing more important than feeling this woman come apart around him. Her hips undulated against his cock. She went from a fluid, rolling cry to a frozen gasp.

  Logan gripped the back of her neck and swallowed her shuddering sigh. She tried to reel away from him like earlier that night, but he held on, banding his other arm around her back. She collapsed against him, her whole body trembling.

  “Fuck.” He breathed against her neck and held her tight. “Fuck,” he said again and dragged her mouth back to his. This woman destroyed him.

  Finally, her shudders drifted into even breaths with an occasional hiccup. She pressed her forehead to his. “Is there real estate available in Orgasmlandia? I’m moving there. It will be my permanent zip code. Screw it, no forwarding address. Just you and me and all of the naked time we can handle.”

  He groaned.

  She traced his lower lip with her finger. “I’ll even let you play an occasional show. We have to make sure those fingers stay flexible.”

  He laughed and bit the tip of her finger. Amazed that he could find humor in anything when his balls were this fucking blue. “I like this town. Let’s go upstairs and design our house.”

  She rolled her hips and they both groaned. “I would like nothing more than to do that, but if I took you upstairs, the entire town would know by morning.” She leaned back against the steering wheel. “Not exactly the most inconspicuous truck.”

  He cupped her face. “I’ll just stay an hour.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “You know it won’t be just an hour.”

  No. If he got his hands on her, and was finally able to get her completely naked, an hour wouldn’t be enough. He kissed her, letting a groan free in her mouth, then he lifted her off his lap.

  She grabbed her underwear, scooted across the seat and out of the truck. A moment later she was at his window, and he rolled it down. She stood on the foot rail and leaned in for a quick kiss. “It’s going to be crazy tomorrow, but I’ll find you.”

  “You better.”

  She backed away and up on the sidewalk, stuffing the garments into her pocket. “Get some rest. I need you to kick ass tomorrow.”

  He grinned at her. “I
will.”

  She waved and went to her door. She hit something on a keypad and the door opened. Turning back with one more smile, she disappeared inside.

  Logan shifted in his seat and wished for a bit of cool air to ease the ache in his dick. The farther he got from her apartment and up to the winding road that lead to his house, the easier it was to think.

  Too easy. Doubts and worries about the show replaced the haze of lust he’d been living in for the last hour. He wanted it to go off without hitch, but his history with concerts made it unlikely.

  Maybe this time he could get through it without a pair of ice blue eyes staring back at him.

  He pulled onto his property and groaned at the wide open gate. With so many people in and out of the cabin, he’d given up on any sense of security. When the festival was over, he’d get his life back. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to settle in for a little downtime.

  Was it too much to hope that it would include Izzy?

  He parked and got out. Music poured from his house, and every damn light seemed to be on. He didn’t even bother with the panel at his front door. Sure enough, the door was unlocked.

  Voices carried out of the living room. Johnny and Lindsey were on the sectional, a guitar on each of their laps. Emerson had the bongos out and Zeke was sitting cross-legged singing. It was a rather bastardized version of Stairway to Heaven with Cody howling along with Zeke’s drunk lyrics.

  A bottle of Crown and two empty bottles of Bordeaux sat on the end table. Half full tumblers and wine glasses were on every available surface.

  “Nice to see you guys raided the liquor cabinet.”

  “Hey!” Zeke got up, listing a little before he righted himself. “We were wondering where you were.”

  “No we weren’t, dude.” Johnny grinned, a dimple denting his tanned cheek. “He was making time with the hot brunette.”

  “No,” Zeke said with an emphasis on the O. “Izzy?”

  Logan crossed his arms. “Yes.”

  “About time.” Lindsey strummed her guitar, changing the song to Feel Like Makin’ Love with a bright smile.