One Sizzling Night

by Jo Leigh

  Something happened down there, with his mouth against her and his fingers becoming still. “Are you laughing at me?” Damn, now her voice was wrecked. “Stop. I’m serious.”

  Their eyes met, and she almost came from that alone. He looked like what orgasms felt like. “I’ll stop if you want,” he said, “but there’s no way you’re not coming more than once tonight.”

  “Okay,” she said. Then let out the air she’d been holding in one big huff. “Go for it.”

  That quirk, that one-sided grin that made it look like he had all the answers. She was a sucker for that, which was—

  Holy shit, he’d brought out the big guns. Three fingers. Hard. Hard. Hard. Her body writhing as he sucked on her clit until the low thrum inside her became a crash, her whole body coming so hard she jackknifed and nearly clipped his chin.

  Oxygen. She needed a lot of it. Especially when every aftershock made her gasp, made her twitch and constrict. Great gulps of air left her mouth dry. She needed something to suck on.

  That made her laugh because, no. All the energy molecules in her body were resting.

  Nope, wrong. There was another aftershock: a doozy.

  Logan walked back to the bed, and it startled her to realize she hadn’t noticed that he’d left. It was clear that he hadn’t jacked off in the bathroom, which she wouldn’t have blamed him for. She’d been on Planet Pleasure and hadn’t given a thought to taking care of him.

  Until now. He had a great-looking cock. Big but not intimidating, and he had to be aching for release.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t quite as wasted as she’d been. He sat below her between her legs saying something about a condom, which was good. Then he spread himself over her like a duvet. The molecules weren’t just up, they were raring to go.

  * * *

  LOGAN HAD MADE sure the condom was on well before he spread out, balancing on his bent arms as they kissed. It turned him on that she could taste herself on his tongue. The noise she made as they rubbed themselves together from knee to chest. Evidently, she’d recovered.

  He rubbed his cock on the bottom sheet as he kissed her.

  It wasn’t cutting it. Not the kiss, the other—

  Screw it. They could kiss later.

  Balancing his weight on his left side, he slid his free arm down between them ready to take her to the next level.

  A moment later, he was flat on his back and she was grinning. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “If you had, it would have spoiled all the fun.”

  Fun. He doubted it. Somebody had control issues. Which he understood completely. It seemed like a worthy endeavor, when to give in and when to take charge. Kensey was challenging. He liked it.

  She mounted him just above where he desperately wanted her.

  He groaned, anticipating the ride ahead. He was in a good position to thrust up, but with her on top, it would be more difficult to make her come again.

  He couldn’t remember a time he’d been harder. His little breather had helped, though. Not a lot, but still. It only felt as if he was going to die if she didn’t do something soon. The longer she waited, the more likely he’d come at the first slide inside her.

  Her hand slipped between them, but she didn’t touch his cock. He couldn’t tell what she was doing although she did it for a hell of a long time. She even bent forward, bringing her lips close enough to breathe with him. He tried to make it more interesting, but she ducked away.

  “Okay, what is this? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No,” she said, with so much conviction he knew it was a flat-out lie. “I want to make you feel good.”

  “Do I get to vote on how?”

  She shook her head, and her hair brushed against his chest so close to his nipples he nearly cried. And his nipples weren’t even that sensitive.

  A moment that lasted a week later, and she was kind of riding him, but he wasn’t inside her. Close though.

  Son of a bitch, she had him rubbing between her cheeks.

  He grabbed on to her hips, because he was pretty sure he was going to stroke out on this. This new sensation. It wasn’t penetrative, but the idea of what she’d done to slick up, to make it this smooth...

  His hips jerked up, but Kensey wasn’t having any of that. She held him right where she wanted him.

  As much as he liked this, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands pretty damn soon. Did she think for a minute that he couldn’t flip her right back—

  Holy shit, holy... She slid onto his erection, all the way, then rose again. Until he wasn’t inside her. But not for long.

  His moan had just awakened anyone who’d fallen asleep after Kensey’s impressive performance.

  It was nothing short of amazing. The tension in him was enough to power his van for three blocks. No pattern, no rhythm. Just one type of stimulation versus another until he was a gibbering idiot.

  No more. Just...

  He flipped them. Didn’t tease her. Just hit it hard, one thrust. Another.

  She grabbed him by the head, her hands literally clutching his hair and keeping him where he was.

  His top half stilled. His hips? Not even a hiccup.

  Instead of the lecture he’d braced himself for, she pulled him down while she rose to meet him. Another kiss. Harder this time. Wet, sloppy and exactly right. But he couldn’t hold the position much longer.

  She let him go, and he managed to slip his fingers between them, finding her soft folds in seconds.

  This was it. The show stopper. The part where this gorgeous woman came for the second, maybe third time in a mad race against his own skills and her responsiveness. She’d better hurry, though.

  As her own quick orgasm hit, she squeezed his cock. He made a sound he’d never heard before. His hand stopped. Maybe his heart had, too, at least for a second. Stars and bolts of light danced behind his eyelids as he came.

  * * *

  “BREATHE,” KENSEY SAID, shaking him, and she really hoped she hadn’t done anything permanent to her voice. She was on the edge of hyperventilating, herself, but Logan... “You’re turning funny colors. Oh. That’s the walls.”

  He took her advice, anyway, and finally she could try to recover from her own climax. Before tonight, she’d never come more than once during sex. It hadn’t bothered her. She just figured it depended on a lot of factors.

  She was looking at her trembling hands when Logan kissed her. Then he launched himself over to the other side of the mattress.

  Watching him move, she was caught up by the dance of muscles in his arms. Lean and mean—that was a perfect description. Then she looked at his face again. His great smile, how his eyelashes skimmed his cheeks. “Were you married?” she asked.

  “Hmm? When?”

  “Ever.”

  “No.”

  “Huh,” she said. “That was epic, by the way.” She turned onto her side to face him only to find he’d done the same thing. They were curled up next to each other, both of them smiling.

  “My thoughts, exactly.”

  “But...”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m starving.”

  His stomach responded for him. “That means getting out of bed. Think we can call the Thai restaurant and have them deliver to the bedroom in the next ten minutes?”

  “We could try. You never know. Although, I think we’ll have better luck if we’re not completely naked for the delivery person.” She brushed his cheek with her thumb. “There’s an awful lot of food in the pantry. Bet we could make something easy.”

  “Make? I don’t have enough energy to open a box of Twinkies.”

  “Huh,” she murmured. “I could go for Twinkies.”

  Smiling, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Ha
ve I told you how amazing you are?”

  She kissed him. The past hour and a half had been amazing for her, too, for many reasons. Not the least being the fact that she hadn’t given one thought to her father, the Degas, Holstrom, Neil or the very big mess she called her life.

  7

  “WE CAN STILL order Thai.”

  Logan shook his head. “It’ll take too long.”

  “So eat a little something now and, o-kay. Never mind.”

  He’d opened the pantry door. The vast amount of food on the shelves suggested that there was a Harry Potter thing going on where the inside grew to accommodate everything put in it. It was also organized to the last inch, and part of him wanted to just go crazy putting things in the wrong places.

  Kensey came up beside him. They were both wearing their apartment-issued Turkish robes. She looked much better in hers than he did in his, but she could wear any damn thing she wanted to and still make his heart beat triple time.

  “If I wasn’t so against the entire concept of cooking anything, I’d pull out the mac and cheese. I doubt it’s a normal staple for this place. Sam understands my annoying obsession with it. She used to send me cases of the stuff when I was in the Sandbox.”

  “That’s Iraq?”

  He nodded. “It is. I had to hide my care packages before I was mobbed.”

  “I had to hide it as well.”

  “How come?”

  Her lips lifted in an odd smile. “I went to a Swiss boarding school. If I’d gotten caught with a box, I would’ve been expelled,” she said. “But not before I was shamed in front of the entire student body.”

  “Hell, that’s child abuse.”

  Kensey blinked at him. “I was kidding. They wouldn’t have—”

  “I meant depriving you of mac and cheese.”

  She bumped him with her shoulder.

  “Damn Europeans.” Logan stole a kiss. “What do they know about cheese?”

  Her laugh lit her green eyes. When he leaned in for another kiss, she caught his jaw and redirected him to the well-stocked shelves. “Food first,” she said.

  “First?” He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

  She just shook her head, her hair floating around her shoulders in a sexy, tousled blond cloud, a smile teasing the corners of her lips.

  Boarding school didn’t surprise him. In fact, maybe that was where she’d learned that cool composure. He could easily see her living in a fancy Manhattan apartment surrounded by priceless art. She wore minimal jewelry, a Rolex watch and sometimes earrings. Diamond studs. He’d bet his own modest Tribeca walk-up those rocks were the real thing.

  Yet she wasn’t standoffish. It was easy talking to her, and the sex had been off the charts, but he shouldn’t expect anything. He could hope they ended up in bed again. Food first implied they might. This was just an interlude. It would have been different if they’d gotten dressed, but he was almost certain that robes meant the sex wasn’t over.

  “There’s quinoa,” she said. “That’s only fifteen minutes.”

  “Too long.”

  “Pizza delivery?”

  “Wait just a minute,” he said, reaching for the red-and-blue box of Cap’n Crunch. “I haven’t had this in years.”

  She laughed. “And I thought you were a big bad soldier man.”

  “Who’s liberal about his food choices. There’s also some Raisin Bran, if you’re into that kind of—”

  “Oh, my God. Frosted Flakes.” She plowed in front of him to get the box, and when she turned around, grinning, he knew they had a special connection. At least when it came to food. And sex. The rest? He didn’t need to know. They only had a few days.

  She brought the milk, he found the bowls and the spoons, and they sat opposite each other at the small kitchen table.

  “So,” he said, halfway through his first bowl of cereal. “Boarding school, huh? Is that where they make you walk with books on your head to teach you good posture?”

  Kensey lowered her spoon. “Are you joking?” she asked, staring, waiting. “Seriously. I can’t tell.”

  “Hey, most of the time I can’t figure out what’s going on in that head of yours, either.”

  She didn’t comment. Just shifted her gaze and ate another spoonful of cereal.

  Well, hell, Logan wasn’t looking to kill the mood. “Yes, I was joking. Where are you from? I mean, are your folks American? European?”

  “My mother is French. I was born in New York. When I wasn’t in school I bounced back and forth between France and Manhattan. According to Sam, you’re from the city, as well.”

  “Yep, but not the fancy part. I live in Tribeca. My office is in Brooklyn.” He could almost see the walls going up around her. So, she didn’t like talking about her family. That was okay. “Is this your first security conference?”

  She looked up, nodding. “I’ve wanted to attend for a couple of years but there always seemed to be a conflict.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Fine art is a specialty, although a lot of the same kinds of security procedures are used to protect antiquities, high-end jewelry, valuable books...those sorts of things. I like keeping up with the latest tech.”

  “Is that the responsibility of a curator?” He poured some more Crunch, then topped up his milk. “I don’t know much about fine art. Or what a curator does.”

  “I don’t decide on the security features, but I make recommendations. A lot of what I’ll be doing now that I’m a freelancer is helping private collectors protect their art. There are storage concerns, lighting...a lot goes into preserving art. I’m also in charge of moving pieces, whether it’s been sold or being loaned out to a museum. For example, after I get back to New York, I’m taking a van Gogh to Vienna.”

  “For...?”

  “A private client.”

  “Right,” he said. “Of course. You think you’ll like freelancing better than staying with one collection?”

  “Not necessarily. But it does give me more freedom.”

  “That’s worth a hell of a lot,” he said.

  They ate for a bit, both of them crunching their way to satiety. Logan had never had a problem with silence, generally preferred it. But something was still bothering him. “I was wondering. What made you ask about black ops?”

  Kensey didn’t look up right away, but he saw the blush creeping up her throat. “I guess I should stick to what I know.” She shrugged and the robe slipped off her left shoulder, exposing the swell of her breast. She tugged the thick fabric back in place. “I was checking out the different booths and listening to the reps promoting their weapons collections. It was kind of funny, really. Every time they lowered their voice you knew they were going to tout their brand as being the number one choice for black ops.”

  Logan smiled. “And did people believe them?”

  She seemed to give it some thought. “You know...I think half of them did. They seemed impressed.”

  “Do you carry?”

  She blinked. “A gun? No,” she said, shaking her head and pulling the front of her robe together. “When I escort a piece I usually have at least one armed guard with me, though, usually two.”

  “So, why the interest in the gun booths?”

  “I’m considering buying a small pistol.” She put down her spoon and narrowed her gaze. “It feels like you’re grilling me. Did I blunder into something? Are you black ops?”

  He watched her lean forward slightly, her eyes bright with interest and maybe excitement. If she was acting, she was doing a hell of a good job. Under the table her bare toes brushed his, and damned if that didn’t send his thoughts straight to sex. Her naked. Flushed with arousal. Panting beneath him. “No, I’m not black ops.”

  “Oh.” She leaned back. “To
be honest, I’m not sure what black ops is. Or how it differs from special ops or covert ops.”

  “Who knows if there’s any such thing as black ops. It’s probably nothing but a way for Hollywood to make war and espionage look glamorous.”

  “You must hate that. I’m guessing any soldier who has seen combat would be offended.”

  “What makes you think I saw combat?” He swallowed his last mouthful and the lump that her words had brought to his throat. She’d looked so fierce in defense of him and his brothers in arms. He smiled. “Maybe I was a cook.”

  Kensey laughed. “I doubt your group or team, whatever you call it, would’ve been happy with mac and cheese and cold cereal.” Tilting her head to the side, she studied him for a moment. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who would shy away from the action. So yes, I’m thinking you saw your share of combat.”

  That was an understatement.

  Logan decided he’d overreacted to her black ops remark and relaxed. And not because she’d been ready to defend him. When her robe had slipped off her shoulder and distracted him, she hadn’t used the opportunity to avoid his questions. She’d immediately covered up. Anyway, he’d been out of the field too long to be looking back at shadows. These days he was an ordinary Joe. And he was pretty sure Kensey was exactly who she claimed to be—a curator who’d attended a Swiss boarding school so she could learn all about the finer things in life.

  And damn she was hot.

  If he had anything to say about it, there was going to be a lot more sex tonight.

  * * *

  KENSEY WATCHED LOGAN watch her. She had stumbled earlier in the evening. That was putting it kindly. He had played her and she’d stupidly struck back with the unfortunate black ops mention. And now he wasn’t sure if he could trust her.

  “You know what?” she said. “You and any other soldier who’s fought have every right to be insulted by someone trivializing military service for monetary gain. Tomorrow, if I’m near any of those weapons’ booths, I’m going to point out how disrespectful they’re being.”

  Logan laughed. “You’re just trying to get me to kiss you.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said. The thing was she meant it. She had never thought about it before, but now that she had... “What?” He had the oddest look on his face. “Getting you to kiss me is easy. All I’d have to do is—” Struggling to come up with something quick and clever, she waved a hand.