by Avery Duncan
“You don’t like that?” he asked, moving his hands up her neck, fingers loosening all of the noughts there. She tiled her head back, letting out a rush of air.
“Why would I? That man took my mother away from me. I had to grow up without her. I never got to go shopping with her. She never got to tell me about what would happen when I first got my period”-- he winced -- “and she will never be allowed to come to my wedding.”
Pain lacerated her heart at the last reason. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d missed out on -- even with her aunt as a guide and her doting father. “She’ll never get to see me walk down an aisle in a white dress,” she whispered, turning her face into Logan’s chest.
“When your father’s election is done,” he murmured against her temple, kissing her there lightly, “we’ll throw you a proper wedding. Dress, cake, guests, everything.”
Feeling her heart turn over in her chest at his words, she looked up at him with sad eyes.
“Really?”
Logan nodded, his voice a promise as he said, “Swear it.”
Chapter 16
Wednesday came quickly -- way too fast for Claire to catch up with.
She was now waiting in the car with Frank, heart pounding, hands sweating, and feeling very unsure of herself.
Instead of picking out a dress, she had gotten something less extravagant. It was a form-flattering. white skirt and blouse ensemble. The skirt was a high-rise, hugging her waist comfortably, and the blouse was silk, button-up. It was a modest yet elegant outfit, and she felt that it was perfect for today. Her hair was coiled on top of her head, just a few strands curling down her face. It left her long neck visible and her eyes looked twice as large as they normally did.
Because of her hair or her fear, she didn’t know.
“Just a few more minutes and we can get goin’,” Frank said, putting his wrist down after looking at the old, weathered watch that he never went anywhere without.
She knew Logan had told him to keep her in the car till a certain time, but she had no clue why. It wasn’t an actual wedding for Christ Sakes -- it was just a ceremony in front of a judge that was going to give Logan all sorts of rights to her body... She shivered despite herself.
Claire didn’t know if she liked the thought or not.
Frank pat her hand with his rough one. “Don’t worry, g’il. It’ll be good, just you wait. Logan might not seem like a nice boy, but when ya’ get to know ‘im? He’s a great one.” He even winked at her.
She tried to smile back at him, but her nerves wouldn’t let her. “I know he’s a great man. It’s just the fact that I haven’t even graduated college and I’m getting married to a man almost twice my age...”
Frank waved a hand at her. “In those sophisticated cities, somethin’ like this is very unheard of. I know you’re worryin’, but stop. It’s common out here. We’re plain folk and we love new family. Age is but a number as long as ye’ love someone.” His chest puffed up a bit. “Why, I myself married a girl some years younger than me -- and she was the prettiest, nicest thing I ever did lay eyes on...”
He paused, smiling at her. “We were married for forty years. She was twenty and I was thirty-five. Much like you and Logan are.”
She felt a little more at ease and actually managed a smile. “You aren’t married anymore?”
His face fell some, and she felt bad for asking until his lips lifted. “She died just a couple years ago. Breast cancer.”
His eyes held a sadness that was soul-deep, and his voice didn’t sound much better either. Her hand raised to her mouth and she bit back a gasp. “I’m so sorry... You must have loved her a lot...”
“If I could have traded my life for hers, I would have.” He looked at her point blank. “And don’t you dare think for a second that Logan wouldn’t do the same for you as well.”
Claire felt her face pale. He knew...
She looked out of the window, just in time to see a young man dressed in black robes step from the entrance of the brick building.
“Well, let’s get the show goin’,” he said, opening up his door. “Logan won’t be wantin’ to wait much longer for ‘is bride!”
He turned as the oak door opened. Sunlight poured into the room first, and then the vision of an angel came through the door. His heart nearly stopped in his chest as the light shone around her, casting a shadow into the room.
“Ah...” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to act natural. God, she looked beautiful. Her liquid blue eyes, slim body, beautiful personality... The only thing he could think was wrong about today was that he wasn’t giving her an actual wedding -- but he would be soon.
He’d be damned if he let her out of his arms for the rest of their lives.
Logan stopped listening to the director and gave Claire his full attention. She met his eyes, a blush forming on her pale cheeks. He couldn’t help but smile at her, and the closer she got to him, the harder his heart pounded.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked him with wide eyes, coming up beside him. He could see how badly she was shaking and slipped his hand through hers, his thundering chest finally calming down.
“More than sure. After this, we’re going out to eat and then,” -- he bent down, pressing his lips to her temple, whispering -- “I’m taking you to our bed.”
She gasped softly, enough that only he could hear her. He didn’t care that the whole room was watching them, or that Claire looked so adorably shy. He only cared about giving her the best day he could -- and that included relaxing her. Slowly, the shaking left her body and instead she was looking up at him with soft heat in her eyes.
He stared down at her.
“Are we gonna get this goin’, or are we gonna stare at each other for the rest of the day?” Frank broke in, causing Claire’s face to turn pink.
Logan raised a brow at Frank and then gestured to the pastor to begin.
His speech was short, Claire and Logan gave their generic vows, and then the words finally came. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Logan just meant to bend down a peck her lips. He understood how shy and proper she could be in front of other people, so he didn’t expect much from her. Except, when he bent his head to her lips, her arms wound around his neck and she was kissing him full-on.
Shocked, he stood still for a second -- a very short second. His arms came around her waist and his lips moved with hers, and soon they were the only ones in the room. Her mouth was soft, willing, open for him as he dominated her and showed her how much he craved her through that one simple kiss.
She finally pulled back, gasping for breath, but her arms never left his neck. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. In a desire-deepened voice, he growled, “You’re mine now, Claire.” He slid the wedding ring onto her left ring finger, and she did the same -- no one cared that it was against tradition to put the rings on last.
Blue eyes locked on his. “That means you’re mine as well, Logan.”
He smirked. “I have no problem with that at all.”
Several people cleared their throats, and Logan looked at each of them. Darla had agreed to be a witness, as well as Frank. Everyone else who had shown up hadn’t been invited, but in such a small town, no one needed an invite to a wedding ceremony. If they knew, they would come.
“I think it’s time to leave.” Then, in front of everyone, he slid his arm under her knees and one around her back. She squealed, grabbing his shoulders as he began to walk from the room with her in his arms.
“Have fun!” Frank shouted. The whole room burst into laughter, but Logan didn’t notice.
He was too busy planning out how to kiss every inch of her body in the longest amount of time possible.
Chapter 17
“What do you mean, she’s with a man?”
“‘Sactly what I said. She’s sitting at a dim table, lookin’ all nice, sitting across from a man.” Carl hated when he h
ad to repeat himself. There she was, sure as the sun, sitting in front of a dark-lookin’ man. He had a stern look on his face, yet hers was bright. Happy.
He tilted his head, examining her, forgetting about the voice on the other end of the phone until his name was snapped. “Carl. You have the right girl?”
“Aye. She’s blonde, blue-eyed, and looks a lot like a dead little Senator daughter.”
There was a pause. Then a sharp, “What are they doing.”
“Ahh...” Carl scratched his chin, frowning more. He leaned over the table and studied them. “Looks like they’re...talkin’.”
“Just talking?” The voice sounded dubious.
“Yep. Talkin’.”
“About what?”
“I ain’t that close that I can hear ‘em,” he muttered.
“Get closer!”
“I can’t. Want me to be seen?”
“It’s not like she knows who you are!” Joey snarled. There was a thump in the background, then an angry curse. “What’s the guy look like.”
“Tall, dark --”
“Don’t you dare say ‘handsome’.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he growled, sinking back into his chair and picking as his Spaghetti. “I was gonna say he looks familiar. Like I’ve seen him somewhere.”
“Television?”
Carl mulled it over, trying to think. He didn’t watch much TV anymore, so it wasn’t that. “Maybe she found protection.”
“Kill him, too, then.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, till I find out who he is.” Carl might be dumber than a pile of rocks, but he knew how to kill and how to do it right. And taking out someone important, when not warranted, was not in the rule book.
“Take a picture and send it to me. I can have my guys do a search on him. I’ll call you when I get the info.”
Joey hung up without letting Carl speak. But he flipped the crappy payphone open and, after making sure no one was watching him, took a quick pic of the guys face. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they were talking about completely, but he was close enough to hear the low murmur of his voice. Carl felt jealous ripple through him.
Not only did he have Ms. Campbell, but he had a normal, manly voice. Carl touched his throat gingerly, then with narrowed eyes sent the picture to Joey. He took a bite of his spaghetti and listened to the sound of their voices. Ms. Campbells, soft yet luring, innocent. The mysterious man’s voice, dark, low, masculine. Listening to them only made him angrier.
Carl was prepared to sit there and simmer, but his phone started to buzz on the table. He picked it up and answered, Joey the only one who had the number to the phone.
“Carl,” Joey snapped. That’s all he ever did though. Irate, Carl grunted into the phone.
“You recognize him from somewhere? That’s Logan Marshal. Previous Ex-OPS commander.”
Oh. Fuck. That.
Carl stared at the man. He looked different. Hair cut. Buffer. Darker ‘because of the sun. And he lived in this hick town? The man who had put Carl and his fellow cons into jail? He breathed out slowly. Calm. Had to stay calm.
“Are you sure,” he asked into the phone, even though he knew the answer. Carl watched as Logan leaned across the table. Ms. Campbell did the same, swirling locks of her hair sliding over her shoulders. The commander lifted his hand, brushing it over her cheek.
The candlelight glinted off of the commanders finger. Claire lifted her left hand and captured his, looking at him like he was the only one in the room. Her finger also glinted.
“Uh...Mr. Smith...”
“What.”
“I think we might have a problem.”
“Yeah, no shit, you dumbfuck.”
“No, we might have a real problem...”
“Other than Campbell’s daughter fucking one of the presidents dogs, what?”
“Well I think they might be...” He didn’t know how to phrase this. He cleared his throat, hating the squeak it made. A couple from the next table looked over at him odly. His face burned with anger and he glared at them. They quickly turned back in their seats.
“Think they might be what.”
“Married.”
Silence. Dead, choking, fury-filled silence. Then, with a calm that made Carl uneasy, Joey said into the phone. “Get out of that damn restaurant and don’t touch Claire Campbell until I give you word.”
“So we’re still going after her?” he asked, uneasy. If Logan found out that it was Carl, and that Carl was out of jail, he was dead. Logan had a license to kill-- Carl knew that very intimately.
“I’m not losing this election.”
Carl took that as a yes. Yes, Carl, you’re going to be gutted by commander Marshal and there ain’t shit you can do about it.
Logan brushed his thumb over Claire’s silky skin.
“Hope you realize that now that you’re mine, you can’t be anyone else’s.” His possessive declaration was met with a small smile, her skin heating under his hand as she began to blush.
“Same goes for you,” she whispered, feeling like they were the only two in the restaurant.
“Are you nervous?” he asked after a minute, only the dim sound of the life in the restaurant viable to them. She met his eyes straight-on.
“Yes.”
He smiled a little at her honesty, then leaned over the table to brush his lips against her forehead. “Don’t worry, Claire. I’ll take care of you.”
Just then, the waiter came to the table with their receipt, a smile, and a brief parting word. Logan barely cast the slip of paper a look before standing, catching her hand in his. His smile was dark, and her breath caught.
“Time to take you home, Ms. Marshal.”
Her blood heated and she stared up at him before following his lead to the front. He paid for the bill, then took her coat from the drawing room of the elegant restaurant. He’d had to drive them out of town to get there, but it had been worth it. The food had been exquisite and Logan had definitely been charming.
The more she watched him, the more she listened to him, the more her heart warmed to him. She was trying not to get caught up in the fantasy, but it was impossible when he stared at her with eyes surrounded by dark, thick lashes. Whenever he reached for her, her heart did the disco in her chest. Whenever he smiled, all she could do was stare and hope she didn’t melt to the floor.
She had been more than honest when she’d admitted to being nervous. She was terrified; even thinking about it made her hands start to shake. Yet, at the same time, her body was more than affected than just shaking hands. Her breath caught in her throat. Her blood heated. Her heart pounded. Her legs clenched. And, most of all, eagerness shot through her like a bullet. She wanted to be Logan’s, more than anything.
Her only fear was the pain. Or if she didn’t respond the way he wanted her to. She’d never been with a man, except those few times with Logan a couple weeks back. He’d kept his distance from her; did that mean he didn’t want her as much as before? Looking at him, watching him smile down at her as he led her to the car with his arm tucking her close against her body, made her re-think that; that was silly of her. She knew he wanted her more than he wanted to breath - he’d made similar comments over their dinner together. So why was she so anxious about everything?
True, it was her first time. It was normal to be so nervous. But was she too nervous about everything?
She pressed closer to his side as a gust of wind shot around them.
“You okay?” he asked, guiding her to the car and unlocking it when they were close enough. She nodded, smiling, and he helped her climb into the passanger seat after opening the door for her. He came around the other side and got in, starting the ignition.
Claire was silent, and she didn’t notice that they hadn’t moved until Logan clenched his fist around the steering wheel.
“Listen...Claire, we don’t have to...”
She looked up at him with shocked eyes. “What?” she asked,
voice raising a notch higher than it normally was.
“If you’re that nervous, we can wait... It doesn’t have to be tonight.” She could literally hear how much it hurt for him to say that. The headlights reflected on the pole that was stationed in front of them, casting one glare of light into the truck. Logan was right in front of it. His eyes were dark, pained, but he looked resolved.
He didn’t want to hurt her. Rush her.
Her heart went out to him, and she realized then that she was going to go through with making love with him -- because she wanted to. What man would wait for a woman to be comfortable with something like that?
Logan would.
“Hey...” Claire turned in her seat, biting her lip. His eyes flashed over to her, then back to the wheel.
She barely held in her gasp. They’d been burning -- for her.
Well, didn’t that just turn a girl on? she thought, pulling her knees under her in the seat and then leaning over the center consol. Logan looked at her with a wary gaze, not moving.
“I never said I didn’t want to make love to you, Logan,” she whispered, leaning closer. His giant chest let out a breath of hot air, and he shoved a hand in his hair, staring at her as if lost.
“Clare, you better not --”
She pecked his lips chastly, quieting him. “I can do whatever I want, husband.”
His eyes flashed to black with heat, and she saw his hands flex on the wheel out of the corner of her eye. Her smile kicked up to one side, and she leaned even closer, kissing his jaw.
One of his hands left the wheel, now holding the back of her neck, pulling her to him.
She didn’t need anymore encouragement. Claire slanted her mouth over his and the heat within her sprung to life.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders tightly as both of his arms came around her. He pulled her into his lap, arms twining around her body and pulling her flush against him. His heat radiated through her and she whimpered into his mouth. He bit her bottom lip gently, urging her to open her mouth for him.
