“Logan!” Becky rushed in and grabbed the towel off his shoulder. “You’re bleeding.” She wrapped his cut finger in the towel.
Her scent wafted up from her freshly washed hair as she bent to check his finger. Honeysuckle, a sweet aroma that made his mouth water.
Becky lifted her head. “It’s not too bad. You don’t need stitches.”
She was in total girl-next-door mode with her hair drying around her makeup free face. Wait, she said something, right? “What?”
“The cut on your finger.” She lifted his wrist to display his towel-wrapped index finger.
Oh right, he’d felt a prick on his finger. But he was much more interested in Becky. “I’m making you dinner.” Her friend’s comments about the way Logan handled the ceremony today really bugged him. The marriage wasn’t real, but they were going to be living together for three months. He hoped Becky would want to be in his bed—he could at least treat her as he would any lover. Take her out if they could get a sitter, buy her things, be considerate.
“That’s nice, but I’m not big on blood in my salad.”
“Picky.”
“Get used to it. I like the toilet seat down, too. Where are your Band-Aids?”
“First aid kit in the drawer by the fridge.” He followed her movements as she fished out the plastic kit. “I like your dress.” Especially the way it shimmied around her sweet ass, hinting at her curves there. Curves he’d had in his hands when he’d kissed her.
Becky dragged him to the sink for the wash-and-disinfect routine. “I made a couple of them after Sophie was born. It covered the pregnancy fat and it’s easy to breastfeed in.”
His gaze dipped to the material stretched across her breasts. His mouth dried. It’d be so easy to slide the dress down… Lust fisted low in his belly and heat prickled his skin. The urge to pull her to him and take her mouth buzzed through him.
“There, all bandaged.”
He blinked, trying to clear the haze of need rushing through him. “Thanks.” He forced his gaze to his finger so he’d quit staring at her. “Nice job.”
“I was studying to be a nurse.” She returned the first aid kit to the drawer. “I volunteered in a VA hospital in high school and college.” Adding the chopped vegetables to the salads, she looked back over her bare shoulder. “I’m hoping to go back to school after our deal is over.”
Interest in her plans calmed his lust. “Hang on a sec while I get the steaks off the grill.” Once he returned from the back deck, he plated the two steaks and added a microwave potato to each. He and Becky settled in at the table and he asked, “How long do you have left to finish your degree?”
She scooped out some butter to fix her potato. “About a year. I’ll work too, and I’ll have to find good childcare. But if I can do it, then I’ll have a job that will let me take care of Sophie the way she deserves.”
He liked that she was thinking ahead. “Quit your job now and look into going back to college. Find out when the new semester starts and start going as soon as possible. I’ll cover the cost.”
“I’ve thought about it and I don’t think I should quit work.” She shook her head. “You’re going to help me with the lawyer fees and the settlement, that’s all I want.”
“Bec, we agreed that I’m covering your expenses.” She needed to get over her resistance to him handling her bills. He leaned closer. “You can’t work for Luce while married to me. No one would believe you’re married to a man who can easily support you yet you continue to work nights and take your baby with you.”
She cut into her steak and Logan set about eating his dinner, giving her space to think. The last couple nights, he and Becky had dinner together and discussed their marriage plan, and the story they’d tell about how they met. He was going to break the news to his dad alone. He didn’t want Becky in the line of fire if the old man unleashed his disparaging, old-school bullshit attitude.
To Brian Knight, Becky wouldn’t be good enough for his son.
To Logan, she was too good. Smart, sweet, and hardworking. Still grieving for her mother too, and he needed to keep her shielded. He’d make it brutally clear to his father that his wife would be treated with respect.
“You have a point that it could look suspicious if I kept a job like office cleaning at nights when I could be home with Sophie. I’ll turn in my notice soon, but I’ll keep sewing pageant dresses and make some money that way.” Becky drank some of the milk he’d poured her. “Then I’ll use the time to investigate colleges so I can return to school after our deal is over.”
He could almost feel her holding herself back from his offer but he’d wear her down. “How long have you wanted to be a nurse?”
She took a breath. “It’s been my dream since I was little.”
He wanted to help her with achieving it. “Getting pregnant derailed that for you.”
Her eyes slid to his. “That’s not Sophie’s fault. I love her more than anything. Whether or not I become a nurse, being her mom is the best thing I could ever have.”
“I believe you. But I know what it’s like to have a dream. I went after mine by going into the Marines. And this marriage is helping me attain another dream.”
Becky tilted her head. “Camp Warrior Recovery. Tell me more about it.”
It meant a lot to him that she remembered and understood what it meant to him. “I’m working with a psychiatrist, Dr. Wayne Malone, who specializes in combat post-traumatic stress disorder. We want to create a low-stress environment for veterans with PTSD who are having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian society. They can come here with other vets who are going through the same thing. They’ll be able to fish, ride horses, walk the trails, and do some intensive therapy to learn coping strategies. It’ll only be a small group at a time. We’re starting with ten cabins.” Logan fidgeted with his knife beneath her intense stare. His father considered therapy a sign of weakness. A minute ago he’d have said he didn’t care what Becky thought.
But he did. His leg started to bounce beneath the table as the silence dragged out.
“How long have you been working on this?”
“Almost a year. Most people who see combat come home with scars. Everyone deals with it differently. Adam started Once a Marine, providing jobs for former Marines. Having that focus helped him cope.” Reconnecting with his former lover, Megan, helped him even more, but that had nothing to do with this conversation.
“And you want to do this camp that will give vets with PTSD a chance to acquire the tools to cope without the pressures of civilian life distracting them.”
Heat crawled up the back of his neck. Did that make him a total pussy? Recognizing that he’d let his father’s voice in his head, he ignored it. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”
“I’m impressed. Can I help? If I’m not going to be working, I’ll have time.” Her eyes glowed in the fading sunlight. “Have you thought about adding some low-key music therapy? We had a pilot program at the VA hospital I volunteered at, and it seemed to help the vets as they were recovering from injuries and dealing with PTSD. Particularly the sense of isolation and inability to express their emotions. Or sometimes, it just eased them.” She tilted her head. “For this camp, I’d think you could provide access to a few instruments, maybe give all the guests notebooks in case they want to write some songs as a way of expressing themselves.”
Logan had heard of music therapy, but he was more entranced by Becky’s passion. Covering her hand with his, he said, “I grew up around music, and yet, that hadn’t even occurred to me. It’s a good idea.”
Becky flushed, her eyes lighting up. “If there’s anything else you want me to do, I’m here. I can handle paperwork, phone calls, or any other menial stuff from the house and take that off your shoulders.”
“You’d do all that?”
“Sure, I want to feel useful, and your camp interests me.” Flashing him a grin, she added, “That’s what wives do, right?”
His
mouth dried with longing. She was so generous, offering to help him with his goals. That wasn’t in the contract, no her offer was from her heart. To him, Becky was clean, fresh, and good.
On the flip side, his soul was stained with too many memories and an epic failure that would haunt him to his grave. His PTSD and flashbacks had rendered him emotionally broken. He’d never subject a woman to a lifetime of that. And she had a child…just the thought of a child relying on him made his heart pound erratically and sweat pop out on his back.
He’d learned to cope with his PTSD—alone. He didn’t want to expose Becky, or any woman, to what he was in the darkest hours. Hell, his own mother had given up the fight for him when he’d been a kid. Now? No woman would fight for him, not once they knew him. But he had Becky for these few months and he was going to cherish that gift. Trying to regain control of himself after her that’s what wives do comment, he stroked her left hand. “I’m supposed to get you a wedding ring.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to do that. I’ll use my mom’s rings.”
Covering her hand, he studied her eyes. “Is that really what you want? I don’t mind buying you rings, and you can keep them.” He liked the idea that she’d have something from him to keep. To look at and remember him.
“Yes. If a man ever gives me a wedding ring, I want it to be a true symbol of love, like my mom’s rings were to her.”
His fingers curled around hers, as if he could stop another man from sliding a ring on her finger…and owning her heart. The possessive streak pushed him to lean into her. “You win, but right now, you’re my wife.”
…
His possessive claim raised the hairs on her arms, sharpening her awareness. Becky couldn’t drag her stare from Logan’s light green eyes boring into her. Seeing her. Wanting her. His sheer intensity pulled her closer, a magnetic tug she couldn’t resist.
A shiver of seductive heat filled her belly. Made her lips crave the touch of his.
His mouth tilted into a wicked curve. “Careful, baby. If I kiss you now, it won’t be that chaste little peck you got earlier today.”
Was he warning her or enticing her? Only inches separated them. “What will it be?”
“Our kiss. The one we both crave. I’m going to take my time, learning all the secrets of my wife’s mouth.” He stroked his thumb over her wrist and hand, long sweeps that raised excitement-bumps on her arms.
Why didn’t he just kiss her? What was he waiting for? His fingers skimmed over her sensitive skin up to the inside of her elbow. Her nipples pebbled. A spike of pleasure arrowed to her core. She pressed her thighs together.
“Do you know how hot that is?”
“What?” Could he see her reaction?
“You licked your lips.” He leaned a fraction closer. “You want my taste, sugar.”
He stripped her control away with mere words. What would his kiss do to her? Becky wasn’t sure she could handle it and surged to her feet, desperate for a distraction. “I’ll do the dishes.” Scooping up any dish she could grab, she rushed to the kitchen to deposit them in the sink. She spun and almost crashed into Logan.
He leaned around her to set his dishes down. Her breasts brushed his chest and she inhaled sharply, jerking her gaze up to his face.
“Know why I cut my finger tonight?”
Her pulse throbbed in her ears. “Why?
He skated the back of his knuckles over her face. “Because you walked out looking incredible in that dress. So fresh and pretty, and so goddamned real I forgot to breathe or watch what I was doing.”
His words and touch, and the blaze in his eyes made her shiver. Heat from his powerful body poured over her. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Becky.” His voice came out raspy. “I want to kiss my wife.”
She had a word now. “Yes.”
He skated his thumb down her throat to the fluttering pulse. “Tonight is only for kissing.” Leaning down, he added, “We have three months together. You’re going to take all the time you need because you’re worth waiting for to have in my bed.”
Becky had no chance to reply as his full, warm mouth glided over her lips.
Logan groaned. She felt him grab onto the counter, locking her between his powerful biceps. Angling his head, he licked and coaxed until she opened, giving him access. He tasted of dinner and that richer, masculine flavor that was all his. He dived in, his tongue commanding as he explored her, filling her with his taste.
Becky dug her fingers into his sides, desperate to hold on. Growing bolder, she tangled her tongue with his, getting more aggressive with every thrust. A whimper of burning need clawed up her throat. Every part of her ached to feel more of him, all of him.
He pulled back, his gaze scorching. Leaning his forehead against hers, he growled out. “Damn, sugar. You’re killing me.”
Her skin pulled tight, and need burned in her throat, down her chest, torturing her nipples. But he held his body back from hers, denying her what she craved. “You’re not touching me.”
Keeping his hands anchored on the counter, he leaned in, kissing from her mouth to her ear. “I’m trying to keep my promise. Kissing. Only kissing. Not stripping that dress off you and… Jesus, Becky.” He buried his face in her neck.
His spicy, leather scent filled every empty part of her. But when he lightly scraped his teeth over her tender skin, hot stabbing aches made her squirm with the need for touch. He lashed his warm tongue over the sting, and Becky sank her fingers into his hair, holding him to her, desperate to be enveloped in his arms, surrounded by the hot feel of Logan.
Unable to bear it, she pressed her body into his hard chest, silently begging him to hold her. The contact tortured the hard points of her nipples. Against her belly his erection pulsed, scorching her. He gently bit, licked, and sucked the sensitive spot at the curve of her neck, shooting whips of hot pleasure through her. Sending her too high, too fast with nothing to hold onto. Finally she said, “I want you to touch me. Please.”
…
Becky’s taste was addictive, destroying his will. It was taking everything he had to keep his hands anchored on the counter. This was for her. Only her. Didn’t matter how badly he wanted her, how desperately he longed to slide that dress down to explore her full breasts. To touch and taste, fit his mouth over her swollen nipples and suck. The roof of his mouth itched with imagining what her nipples would feel and taste like.
Wait. Her words seeded into his brain. She’d asked him to touch her. Finally, it penetrated his mind that while he was struggling to hold back, Becky burrowed against him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her head against his shoulder, her breasts pressed into his chest; she was touching him everywhere she could.
“You need to be touched and held, don’t you, sweetheart?”
A flash of shame or regret contracted her pupils before she dropped her gaze.
He was going to kick his own ass. “Talk to me. Please.”
She looked back at him. “It’s been awhile since anyone but my friends or Sophie have touched me. I just…” Her gaze flickered, but she held his stare. “There’s nothing like the feel of a man’s arms around me.”
He’d seen that waver; someone had made her feel bad for needing to be held. She’d been used and made to feel worthless. That shit stopped here and now. Tugging her close, he caged her in his arms, holding her flush to his body. “You feel damn good in my arms, darlin’.” He lowered his head, wanting to taste her mouth again.
“Logan.”
He hesitated, willing to stop if that’s what she wanted.
“I’m not saying I want to have sex right now, but you should know that I’m on birth control. I had a shot at my six week checkup after Sophie was born.”
“Good to know. When you’re ready, I’ll use a condom, too. We won’t take chances. But right now, I’m just kissing my wife until she’s ready for more.” He skimmed his mouth over hers.
A sudden pounding on th
e door cut off his sentence. He jerked to full alertness at the aggressive knocking. What the hell?
Jiggy came tearing out of the hallway, barking.
He released Becky. “Stay here.” He strode to the door where Jigs stood at attention. His ruff raised along his back. The little dude didn’t lack courage. “Sit.”
Jiggy dropped his butt down, but kept his gaze fixed on the door, issuing low warning growls.
He opened the door and felt like growling himself. “Dad.”
Brian Knight took one step then froze when Jiggy growled louder. His father’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What’s that?”
What was his dad doing here? It couldn’t be a coincidence he showed up on the day he married Becky, but how would he have found out? “A dog. What are you doing here?” His father didn’t stop by for chats or a beer. Ever.
Ignoring the dog, Brian puffed up his chest and stormed into the house. Logan could have blocked him, but that wouldn’t achieve anything.
By the chair, Brian crossed his arms. “You got married today.”
Man, they’d have killed for this kind of rapid intelligence when he’d been on active duty in the Marines. He shut the door. “Yes.”
“To a Rebecca May Holmes.”
“How’d you hear so fast?”
“I’m friends with the husband of the judge’s secretary. When the judge asked her to file the marriage certificate, she called me.” His face darkened. “You snuck off and married her without a word to anyone. What’d you do, knock her up?”
Logan stomped hard on his rising anger. “No. I’m fulfilling my end of the contract by marrying and living on the ranch. On my birthday, I will own my land once and for all.”
The older man looked around the house. “I’d like to meet your bride. I’m assuming this is the same woman you’ve had stashed in the house?”
Her Temporary Hero (a Once a Marine Series book) (Entangled Indulgence) Page 6
