Logan's Woman

by Avery Duncan

  Logan only crushed her against him.

  “I am serious. And guess what?” he said, a grin in his voice. His lips moved against her neck, hot breath fluttering over her skin.

  “What?” she said airily, heart pounding so much that she was almost light headed -- or was that because of Logan? She had a feeling it was. With her heart trying to climb up her throat, her hands were threading into his hair and urging him closer, even as every rational thought she had told her to back away from him.

  “Since you’re going to be my wife --”

  She shook her head, even as her eyes closed with mute pleasure.

  “-- we are sleeping in the same bed,” he growed roughly against her neck, nipping.

  Claire should have protested. Really, she should have, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Right now, she would do anything to have Logan touch her like he was right now. If he stopped, she would probably cry. Her head fell back for him, and he kissed up her neck and to her jaw, one of his hands grabbing the back of her neck and making her look at him.

  The heat in his eyes was almost enough to undo her.

  “No fight, no argument,” he murmured, only pulling back for a second before grabbing her roughly around the hips and lifting. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his neck just as her legs did.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said quickly, tightening her arms around his neck despite her words.

  With her wrapped around him, he stood moved to the door. She squeaked. “Logan! Put me down!”

  “I have to carry you across the threshold,” he teased, stepping through the office door after opening it with one hand.

  But even when he crossed the doorway, he didn’t let go. Instead, he carried her across the hall and to his room, where the door was closed. He barely paused while holding her and opening the door, and the second they were inside, she found herself on the bed, and on her back.

  He loomed over her, covering her. His hands slid up her shirt, to her tender stomach and to her waist, all the way up to the underside of her breasts. “Say yes,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her jaw, her cheek. The corner of her mouth.

  Her head shook back and forth, long hair spilling over the pillows that were under her. Fingers speared into his hair, tugging. “We can’t...”

  “Can’t, what?” he murmured, caressing her stomach, her hips, the underside of her breasts-- anywhere he could touch without losing control of himself.

  “Do this...”

  “Of course we can.” To prove his words, he bent down and kissed her full on the mouth, drawing a ragged, surprise moan from her.

  “Logan,” she moaned again softly, holding him to her. “You’re crazy. I’m not marrying you...”

  He nipped her ear lobe gently. Her stomach tightened and she grabbed his shoulders tightly. “Just think, if you did... Joey knows who I am and what I can do. Everyone with a say in the government has heard of me. When he finds out that you and I are married...he wouldn’t dare touch you.”

  She didn’t believe him, but kept silent, instead revealing in the feel of him against her.

  “The pastor in town owes me a favor. I can have this drawn up by Wednesday and...”

  “Logan!” she gaped, digging her nails into his shoulders. He’d moved his way down her body, and was now lifting up her shirt, slowly kissing his way up her stomach. Fire curled it way around her, almost making her lose her train of thought.

  “Hmm,” he murmured, beginning to slide his hand under the lining of her bra.

  She arched under his hand, grasping her wrist.

  “Stop doing that,” she begged, even as she ached desperately for his touch.

  “But you like that,” he whispered, his finger brushing against her breast, setting fire along her skin. With a ragged moan, she gave into him – for now. She wasn’t going to agree to marry him, but she would let him touch her like this.

  “I’m not… I won’t marry you, Logan…” she whimpered, eyes closing tightly at the pleasure.

  “Do you want me to touch you more? Like this?” he asked darkly, brushing his finger over her nipple and then pinching softly, drawing a quiet, high-pitched sigh from her.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then you’ll marry me,” he said, pinching again and pushing up her shirt, kissing along her stomach again, but this time reaching around to undo her bra with one hand.

  Her head shook, but she couldn’t speak. How could she when he was taking her bra away from her body and pushing her shirt up, his mouth so close to her breast.

  “You will, Claire,” Logan said again, his voice even deeper now as he stared down at her. She dug her hands into his hair, the dark strands so soft yet rough, just like the man himself was. Claire tried to urge him to her breast, needing to feel his mouth on her. She’d never done this with any other man – couldn’t even imagine herself doing it with another man. How could she? Logan was perfect…

  “I won’t,” she whimpered, arching up to his mouth.

  He was still, but then pulled back. His brows were drawn low, his cheeks darker, eyes smoky and hot and so full of desire. Her body shook, and she pulled him to her again.

  “Fine,” he said roughly, his voice like gravel. “When you say you will marry me – which you will no matter what – we’ll finish this. But not until then.”

  He got up, staring at her for long moments before stalking out of the room, hands harshly pushing his hair back.

  She gaped.

  Chapter 11

  Carl parked the car, closing the door to his grey Cavalier. The car was old and rickety, but it got thirty miles to the gallon and had lasted him a whole trip across the U.S. Besides the stink and the junk that was piling up in the back seat, it was marginally clean and did it’s job.

  He didn’t know why he had to do this. The woman was dead. It wasn’t like she was going to turn up in a little ghost town, as a ghost. He locked the car and started his way to the gas station, the only one. He’d driven around and hadn’t found any fast food restaurants. There was a small diner across from a couple of hotels, but he hadn’t wanted to fraternize with other people. He was on a mission – an aimless one – and he couldn’t have people recognizing him.

  The bell jingled when he pushed open the door. It was a quiet little place, a little murmur of a TV in the back ground. The rumble of the refrigerators along the back wall was annoying, but he got used to it as he went to the back. He grabbed a 32oz. thing of Sprite and a bag of Doritos and nacho cheese on his way to the front.

  He liked his cheese. It was just a shame that it couldn’t be warmed up a bit.

  “Do you have any gas outside?” the cashier asked indifferently, grabbing the stuff from the counter and ringing it up. The computer beeped at him as Carl decided on getting gas or not.

  He’d filled it up the last gas station he’d been at, but then he’d have to use credit and he had been told specifically not to.

  Carl shook his head. “No. Just these.”

  The cashier gave him a weird look.

  He knew why.

  His voice was different. You wouldn’t think by looking at him that he had much of any affliction, but he sure did. Feeling annoyance prickle the back of his eyes, he paid the cashier and grabbed the back from the counter.

  Carl didn’t offer any good-byes. Instead, he went to his car and started the thing up.

  It wasn’t much of a meal, that was for sure. But he couldn’t risk not having enough for the hotel and he sure as hell wasn’t sleeping in his car. Again.

  He chose the better of the two hotels. The one across from the diner looked old and nasty and like it had rats in it. It actually looked like something out of Quarantine. Plus, there were two police cars parked out front of it.

  Just a bit later, he was settling into his room and flicking on the TV. The room was ice, quaint. Nothing too shabby but nothing to gaudy.

  He flicked through the channels and paused on the news. Election updates.

&n
bsp; Even though he was mad about the pointless search, he still caught up on how Ole Joey was doing. The old fart was portly and had dead eyes. Just as dead hair. His skin was wrinkled and flabby, and if it weren’t for the expensive cologne he practically bathed in, he would be the equivalent of a hippo.

  Carl chuckled at himself. Yeah, he was pretty funny.

  Joey was on the screen, holding hands with Senator Campbell. Carl couldn’t see it, but he knew that Joey and him were whispering harshly at each other. He guessed it came with the job, learning how to threaten each other even when the camera was on them. Carl was a little jealous. If only he could do that – while he wasn’t a known convict, at least. Either way, the two runner-ups were definitely going at it quietly.

  His lips lifted in a dumb grin.

  Soon enough, Joey would be in the chair and Campbell would be dead. All Carl had to do was prove that the girl was actually dead – he had no idea how to do that, but he could always fabricate something – and then Campbell would be at the muzzle of Carl’s gun.

  Carl leaned back into the bed, forgetting about the TV and looking around the room. The window was open and he could see out of it. Curious, bored, he got himself to his feet and looked out of the window –

  His eyes widened and he almost toppled over.

  There, standing in front of the diner, was a tall blonde woman – and she looked exactly like Claire Campbell!

  He didn’t notice the man she was standing next to, didn’t even bother to confirm that it was her. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialed some numbers, and held it to his ear. How Joey had known that she wasn’t dead, he would never know. He also would have guessed it fate that she show up here, of all places.

  “I’m busy. What do you want,” were his greeting words when the phone was answered.

  “I think I found her.”

  “And? Take care of it.”

  “You don’t want to see her –“

  “Why would I? Off her and get back here to take care of her father. The sooner the family is out of the way, the better. You’ve been in this business for how long now?” the man on the other end snarled. Carl looked back at the TV, noticing that it was just Campbell on the screen. He was talking about stupid things such as taxes and reforms.

  “A couple years now,” he answered, feeling his brow drop.

  “Then you should know that the sooner they are out of the way, the better. And I wouldn’t want to risk my ass going down there just to watch you kill her.”

  “Right,” he said shortly. His other bosses had loved to witness the death. But he guessed Joey was a bit different, wasn’t he?

  Carl hung up the phone, looking back out the window.

  He would wait to kill her, but only for a small time.

  Claire Campbell was as good as dead – she just didn’t know it.

  Chapter 12

  Logan had dragged her to town several days later, and even though she knew the reason why, she played dumb and tried to deter him from the one store he was intent on taking her to.

  The jewelry story. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d been staying at the hotel, but now that she knew Logan’s intentions and had forcibly denied him when he’d pulled her to it, she knew it was there and right now, it seemed like a giant, evil monster about to eat her.

  Even right now she was tugging him to the pillow store, which was two over from the jewelry store. It might not be far, but in this town it meant all the difference. “Let’s look at these pillows! So soft... Then we can leave,” she said with forced brightness.

  He stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk. “Claire,” he said, tightening his hand around hers. “You aren’t going to make me forget what we actually came here for.”

  “Yeah, but...we don’t have to do it today,” she tried, feeling trapped.

  “We do. The wedding is in two days and we haven’t even went dress shopping!” he said, exasperated.

  “Why do you sound so happy about this?” She glumly dropped her shoulders, letting him tug her along. He slipped his arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her temple.

  “Because I’ll finally have the woman of my dreams,” he said deeply, his voice lowering, “in my bed.”

  Her face flamed and she batted at his chest. “Logan! We are in public!”

  “And?” he teased, walking with her still in his arm to to the jewelry store.

  Claire sighed heavily, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart and the blush in her cheeks. When they walked in, the elegant store chimed, signalling their arrival. A woman with perfectly coiled hair, who was dressed just as perfectly, came up to them with an odd look at Logan.

  “Logan! What a surprise to see you here,” she said brightly, taking his hand and shaking it. Claire couldn’t help but notice that she looked slightly familiar, as if she had seen her before. But she knew she hadn’t. “And you, as well,” she added, looking at Claire. The woman didn’t sound too happy about that.

  He smiled at her. “I know. Claire and I were just looking for a ring,” he said easily, as if he weren’t announcing to someone who would most likely tell the town that they were going to get hitched. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed.

  “Whatever for?” she asked, her voice suddenly tight.

  “Claire has agreed to be my fiance,” he said smoothly, looking down at Claire almost adoringly. She could sense the subtle warning, though.

  The woman froze, her perfectly lipstick-slathered lips falling open. “But... But what about Madison?”

  Madison? Claire turned her head up at Logan, staring at him with confused eyes. She didn’t say anything though. He stil had that look of warning on his face.

  “What about her?” he asked coolly, moving away from the woman and taking Claire to one of the showcases. From inside, rings of all shapes and sizes gleamed and glittered. Watches and necklaces were doing the similar thing, catching her attention and making her stare with awe. She’d always loved getting jewelry from her father, loved how shiny and beautiful the diamonds were against her skin. She was used to necklaces, bracelets...but this was the first time she’d ever been on the receiving end of a ring.

  One of them immediately caught her eye.

  It had a silver band, with three steeped diamonds on either side of center diamond, a gorgeous, medium sized stone that practically gleamed. She stared at it, then looked at the price.

  She winced. She moved to the other side of the showcases, to the cheaper rings. She knew Logan wasn’t broke in the money department, but she wasn’t about to make him be. It was just a small wedding, one that probably wouldn’t last very long, and she didn’t want him to waste money on her when he didn’t need to.

  Logan came up behind her, his arm once again going around her waist. This time, though, he put his chin against her head and looked at them with her. “Why don’t we look at these ones?” he asked, gesturing to the rings she had just been looking at.

  “No, I like these ones.”

  He used his rough hand to tip her chin back, making her look at him. “I don’t think you do, Claire.” When her cheeks flushed, he chuckled and pecked her lips. The woman came around the other side of the counter and glared at them -- more specifically Claire.

  “Logan,” she hissed, obviously angered. Claire looked down at the rings awkwardly, not even noticing any of them. The woman was clearly mad about something, but she had no clue why she was angry at Claire specifically.

  “Becky. I’m not here to talk about your daughter. I’m here to look at rings with my fiance.” And then, with his arm tightening around Claire, she had been dismissed. Claire was tense.

  Madison was this woman’s daughter? How awkward, she thought, biting her lip. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Madison showing up at Logan’s just for confirmation -- her mother would be sure to tell her. Claire hated that she felt happy over Madison losing Logan. It was a cruel notion, but in her mind, Madison had been thrown to the bottom and Claire had won -- even if the re
asons were weird.

  Becky stalked away, to the back room. Claire and Logan were left alone, and she was glad. Claire wasn’t in a horrible mood, and even though she was against marrying Logan, she didn’t want her day to be ruined because of a pissed-off mommy.

  Logan brought her back to the showcase that had held her ring. Her eyes lit on it, despite herself. It was simple but beautiful, perfect. The other rings might be extravagant, but she much preferred this one over the rest.

  “I think you found one you like,” he commented, amused. Claire looked away, guilty at being caught, and shrugged.

  “They’re all nice,” she said disparagingly, turning around to look at him. She hoped he didn’t notice.

  She looped her arms around his shoulders, shocked at her boldness. By the sudden heat that entered his eyes, though, she could tell he didn’t mind. Well of course he didn’t, she thought. He had asked her to marry him, after all.

  He leaned down, his lips almost touching hers.

  “But I think you found one you really like. Which one is it, Claire?” His voice was dark, matching his eyes. He leaned even closer to her, brushing their lips together. Her legs started to shake.

  “Can’t we find one...later?” she asked, knowing that touching him was a bad idea. The effect he had on her... Claire shuddered. Why was it so intense?

  “No, we do it now.”

  Claire was desperate to buy some time. “Ahh...” She closed her eyes, trying to think. Then an idea struck her -- a really good one, too.

  “I know!” she said, pulling back from him. He growled, tightening his arms around her. “How about this -- if you can guess the ring I want, I’ll agree to marry you.” Never in a million years would he guess it, she thought, pleased with herself.

  “That easily?” he asked, chuckling.

  She nodded, grinning.

  “Alright. Well, you look at them and I’ll...”

  “Ah-ah-aaaahh!” she sang, very pleased with herself. “I’m going to look at pillows and you are going to pick out the ring!”