She reached up and cupped his face. Softly, she arched and kissed him, her hands traveling over his shoulders, and down his back, to his hips. "Make love to me, Logan," she whispered against his lips.
"You sure?"
She had to smile at that. Those were the words he'd said to her their first time together when they'd fumbled to get into each other's pants as teenagers in the tight cab of his pickup. They had the same wishful, wonder-filled tone now as they had then.
Her heart melted along with everything inside her, and she answered him with the same words she'd given him before. "Yes, I'm sure."
Chapter Nine
Logan positioned himself and slowly pushed into her heat. Her head fell back onto the pillow with a cry of pleasure.
Christ. He almost came right then and there. It took everything he had not to pound into her and take her like a man possessed.
He strained against losing himself in the euphoric heaven of her body as he penetrated her with his. Once deeply seated inside her, air whooshed out of his body, and his forehead dropped to hers. Emotion overcame him, and he held her immobile, trying to gather his composure.
She hadn't been with anyone other than him. Not since the last time they had loved each other. Tears wetted the back of his eyes.
Her inner muscles clenched around him, weeping for him, and she arched her hips, her body begging him to move, to thrust inside her. He groaned long and deep, and still he held her down to the mattress, not allowing her to move.
"Just let me..." He tried to convey his need, his desire not to hurt her, to love her like she deserved.
"Let you, what?" she breathed, her voice all whispery and soft, a little uncertain.
"Let me feel you. I've dreamed of loving you again for so long, and this—you—are so much more than I dreamt or remembered. I want to savor everything." He had to swallow before his voice caught and the emotion strangled him.
"Oh God, Logan, you keep talking like that and I'm going to come right now."
"You are?"
"Yesss. Please, can we—please God, can you just..." She whimpered and her fingers bit into his hips. "It's been so long."
Hell, yes he could.
Captivated by the emotions traveling over her face, he slowly rocked into her, rubbing against her sensitive nub, centering his actions in the one tiny area, rather than the full friction of thrusting into her.
"Oh yes, there. Don't...stop."
Never. He was never going to stop loving her.
Flicking her nipple with his tongue, he sucked it into his mouth, drawing hard, all the while grinding against her. She came apart in his arms on a gasp filled with wonder. Her body pulsed around him in a heat so hot that he was surprised it didn't consume him.
No longer could he hold back. Arching her hips, he thrust hard and heavy into her again and again until his vision blurred and his back bowed. Giving a husky shout and a final plunge of his hips, he lost himself within her, filling her with his release until there was nothing left of him, and the only thing that mattered in his life was her.
He collapsed on top of her, spent.
"No, no, no!" she cried, each word getting louder and more demanding. She pushed and bucked against him almost frantic.
"What?" Dazed, he tried to focus through the all-encompassing pleasure sweeping through him. Oh shit, he hadn't hurt her, had he?
"No, no—you can't...stop." She shoved him and actually succeeded in flipping him onto his back. She followed him over and took him, riding him hard with rapid strokes that stole his breath and had his heart racing to finish again.
How? How the hell could he come again so soon? He didn't know, didn't care. On a roar he reared up and grabbed her hips, plunging into her until she chanted and screamed his name.
Christ. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He drank her in. Caught up in rapture, her head thrown back, her golden hair cascading behind her where it brushed the tops of his thighs, she stretched her arms toward the ceiling as if she'd reached Heaven. Creamy breasts full and rounded bounced lightly with her motions. She was a Goddess. A siren. A woman pleasured. And there was nothing in his life, with all that he'd seen and experienced, that was as beautiful as Trixie. His wife.
He followed her into the storm, knowing that if she ever let him go he'd be lost forever.
Chapter Ten
"Why?" Trixie asked. She lay within the comfort and protection of Logan's embrace. Desire banked for the moment, allowing questions to rise.
"Why what?" he asked. His voice rumbled against her neck causing her to shiver in his arms. His body spooned hers, his leg draped over hers as if to make sure she couldn't get away.
"Why didn't you sleep with anyone else?" Eight years was a long time, and Logan was a good looking man. Women would have tried to get his attention.
He released her and fumbled for the lamp on the end table. Harsh lighting suddenly flared. Just how high was the wattage in that bulb? Whatever it was, she needed to lower it. She grabbed for the sheet, but he stayed her hands pressing them against the mattress.
"No more hiding." His gaze heated and took her in. "No one compares to you. For the first few years away from you, I was too angry, and then too sad. After those emotions passed, I was too determined to get you back. Even more determined each time I received the annulment papers you kept sending," he growled.
"Why didn't you return before now?"
"I did. After basic training, I came home."
"But you didn't come and see me?" Hurt laced in.
"I saw you, but you didn't see me. Faye was in the hospital, and I knew it wasn't the right time. You had to be strong for her and dealing with me would split your focus. Plus, I had just been given notice of my first deployment. I didn't want you worrying about me while you were so worried about her."
"That's very...thoughtful."
"I've changed over the years. It was good for me to be on my own as I'm sure it was good for you. It taught me what's important and how I want to spend my life. Who I want to spend it with."
Her eyes roamed over him, taking in the new man he'd become. Her breath caught at the battle-scars that hadn't been there the last time she'd lain with him. She traced a few newly-healed dimples that peppered across his chest and shoulder. "Are these...bullet holes?" She shot up into a sitting position in order to see him better, her hands splaying over his torso. "You've been shot at?"
"That happens when you're fighting a war," he murmured.
"When did this happen? Oh my God, there are more!" Her fingers found an alarming amount of scarring on his body. "What the hell is this?"
"Careful." He sucked in a breath as she touched him near his groin. "Sensitive area."
"It still hurts?"
"Not exactly...hurts," he said, with a lift of his brow.
She slapped his arm. "I'm being serious."
"So am I." He reached for her, and she slapped at him again.
"You are not, now explain what the hell happened, and I'll know if you're lying."
"I'm fine," he said, in an attempt that didn't reassure her in the least. "And you are adorable for worrying." He reached for her again, and she pressed her hand against his chest.
"But you weren't fine, were you?"
He swallowed, and his glance slid from hers. "There have been a few close calls, but it turns out, I'm hard to get rid of."
"Does your mother know?" Why didn't she know? She was his wife. How fast things changed after a couple of great orgasms. Was she really that fickle?
"No, she doesn't and I'd rather she didn't."
"Why didn't the army tell her, or me? If you listed me as your next of kin—oh, you asked them not to tell us, didn't you?" At his nod, she slapped him a third time. "You son of a bitch."
"Now, Trix—"
Tears flooded her eyes, and his image swam in front of her. "You could have been killed." She could have lost him, yet, twenty-four hours ago she'd wanted him gone. Not dead, but
gone.
Now she didn't know what she wanted.
"Tell me," she demanded. "Tell me what happened, how bad it was. Tell me everything."
"I can't. " His lips tightened. "It's classified."
"Classified? I'm your wife, and so help me God, you will tell me."
His heart swelled to bursting in his chest. She'd actually admitted they were married. That she was his wife. Hope bloomed for the first time and robbed him of his breath. It took another slap from her to get him to break out of his elation.
Damn, but that hurt. His wife had a powerful blow, which shouldn't surprise him. He rubbed at the reddening skin on his arm. "I'm sorry, Trix, but I really can't divulge the details just that I was one of the lucky ones. Two of my teammates were killed. I survived."
"Well...criminy. That doesn't reassure me in the least." A sob escaped her. "What can I do?" Her hands were suddenly all over him, trying to soothe where she'd slapped. "I shouldn’t have hit you. I'm so sorry. Do you need some ice?"
What he needed was her. Again. He couldn’t believe he was ready to go, but it might take some creativity to get her to switch gears. "Yeah, some ice might be good."
"On it. Don't move. I'll be right back." She released him and rushed out of the room buck-naked. He enjoyed the flash of her cute ass as she dashed away. He couldn't wait to see her return. Tossing off the covers, he stretched out on her bed. They'd need to replace this one with something bigger. He needed more room...to perform.
Trixie returned with a bowl full of ice and a towel. He took the bowl from her so he could see her breasts better. Damn, just the sight of her made him feel as horny as a teenager. And he'd been a horny teenager around her in high school. He couldn't get enough of her then, he would be unstoppable now.
"Lie down," he instructed, his voice hoarse with emotion. They wasted so much time, he wasn't wasting another moment.
"Where does it hurt?"
"Lie down, and I'll show you."
"What—no! You didn't just have me go and get ice for some sexual—"
"Oh yeah, I did." He chuckled.
She blushed, but a spark of curiosity shined in her eyes. "Like...what?"
The laughter strangled in his throat. "Trixie, lie down."
This time she didn't argue and did what he said. "Can we...uh, turn off the light?"
"No." He needed to see all of her.
She lay prone on the bed next to him, her hands down at her sides. He picked up an ice cube, and she went perfectly still. "You aren't..." She swallowed.
"Yes, I am." But instead of stroking the ice over her skin, like she figured he would, he placed his lips at the side of hers, traveling down her neck, his tongue heating a path to her breasts. He replaced his tongue with the ice, washing the cube over her neck. She arched into the coldness on a gasp, and he snaked his arm under her back, keeping her in the bowed position.
"Logan."
"Yes, keep gasping my name like that. Christ, it makes me hard."
"It does?"
"Pretty much everything you do makes me hard, but those little sounds you make. I go rock hard."
She gasped again as he moved the ice around her breast, circling and placing it over her erect nipple, where he took her into his mouth, the heat of his tongue mixing with the chilliness of the ice cube. She moaned and squirmed under him, her hands reaching for him.
"No, don't touch me. Not yet."
"But..."
"No not yet. I want...more time to love you."
She made a frustrated sound, but dropped her hands back to the mattress where her fingers curled into the sheets.
He picked up another ice cube and did the same thing to her other breast. She was so responsive. It quickened his blood and sharpened his awareness to her every movement, every breath.
Trailing more ice over her flat stomach, he dipped into her bellybutton. Mewing sounds escaped her and he loved her with his lips, nipping and licking after the melting ice.
Suddenly he rose above her, grabbed another ice cube, put it in his mouth, and took her hips in his hands.
She gasped. "You're not..."
He let his actions answer for him as he split her folds with the heat of his tongue and set the ice on her overly sensitive clitoris.
"Oh, good God in Heaven." Her head fell back and her body arched into his hungry mouth. He licked and sucked, tormenting her with the ice until it completely melted against her heat, and then further prolonging the pleasure, he inserted a finger inside of her and watched as she convulsed into orgasm, screaming his name.
He rode out her contractions, continuing to lap and lick while his finger rhythmically penetrated her depths. She was swollen, and he knew she'd be too sore for more intense intercourse. So he took his time in bringing her up to the pinnacle again and gently pushing her over again until his name was a wonder-filled sob on her lips.
Gathering her up in his arms, he held her while she settled.
She didn't stay that way for long.
Once again she flipped him over onto his back. The woman was stronger than she looked.
"My turn," she said, reaching for an ice cube from the bowl, a wicked gleam in her blue-green eyes.
"You don't have to.
"But I want to."
Christ.
She'd paid attention and followed his actions to the letter. He was trembling by the time she took him into her mouth.
"Trixie." He pulled at her shoulders.
"No, let me. I've always wanted to do this to you."
No way would he survive this. His head fell back on his shoulders in defeat. How did he tell her no, when she was so curious and enthusiastic?
Her tongue encircled the head of his shaft, groaning around him, making his balls ache. Yeah, he wouldn't last long.
"I think I need more ice," she teased.
"No you don't," he growled, clenching his jaw.
"But that felt so good the way you did—"
"Trix, you're killing me."
"I am? Want me to stop?"
"God, no." Oh, he was on to her now.
She knew exactly what she was doing as she drove him to distraction. The more he cursed, the more confident and seductive she became in her ministrations.
Until she was downright merciless. Mercilessly irresistible.
Who was he kidding? He'd never been able to resist her.
She took him into her mouth, and he gave a harsh, stunned groan at the pleasure. Her tongue swirled around the head of his shaft, and she sucked him hard, going as deep as she could, only to repeat the heavenly—torturous—process again. Each time she went down on him a little more until his eyes rolled back in his head, and he shuddered with the effort to hold back his release.
She moaned as if she knew how close to the edge he was.
Christ, he was too close.
They'd never done this before. He couldn’t come in her mouth, not the first time. The thought of doing this again, her mouth hot and slick over him again had his seed pulsing hot at the base of his spine.
"Trix," he warned, his breath coming in ragged pants.
"Hmm." She made the sound deep in her throat and the vibrations undid him.
He reared up and pinned her to the mattress, and took her like a man possessed.
She cried out, and there was nothing he could do, but thrust into her. Pleasure washed over him in waves, dragging him under into a world where only need and long-denied desire existed.
Vaguely he heard her call his name as her nails raked his back and her legs squeezed his hips. But he was completely lost in the pitching of the undertow as he pounded into her, his back arching as he came, holding her tight against him, making her take everything he'd stored up inside him over eight long fucking years.
Chapter Eleven
Logan groaned at the incessant pounding coming from somewhere. He tightened his hold on Trixie, curling her into his chest, where he buried his head in her neck. He never wanted tonight to end.
The
pounding continued, and he thought he heard his name hollered.
What the...?
He cracked open an eye and read the time on Trixie's alarm clock. Already nine in the morning? This blasted winter darkness was going to take some getting used to again. Didn't help when they'd spent all night making love. They'd finally given into exhaustion just a few hours ago.
"Trix." He nudged her. "Someone's at the door."
She burrowed into his chest. "Get rid of them."
He sure liked the sound of that. Wonder if she was up for taking a Christmas honeymoon? He kissed her forehead and climbed out of bed, tucking the comforter in around her. He yanked on his jeans, and traipsed to the door, a yawn cracking his jaw.
He opened it to find his mother and Trixie's Aunt Faye.
They both shouted at him in unison, "You're married?"
Well, shit.
"It's all over town that you two have been married for eight years," Janet accused. "My phone started ringing in the middle of the night. I tried calling you, but you didn't pick up."
"I had a long line of customers waiting for me this morning," Faye started in. "When I opened the shop they couldn’t wait to tell me that my own niece, who I raised from a baby and think of as my own child, has been married to you all this time. Married and I wasn't even invited to the wedding. Eight years, Logan, and neither one of you have said a word."
Logan held the door open and took a deep breath for what was coming next. "Come on in. I'll brew some coffee."
"Better pour me something stronger than coffee," Janet muttered.
"Where's Trixie?" Faye scanned the open room and then looked at Logan with reproachful eyes. "Is she okay? Did you do something to her?"
She might have to define "do" because he'd sure as hell had done things.
Faye didn't seem to need an answer as she rushed to continue, "Trixie couldn't have been a part of this deception. She wouldn't willingly keep something like this from me."
"And you think my son would willingly keep it from me?" Janet asked Faye and then turned her glare on Logan, planting her hands on her hips like she used to when he misbehaved as a kid. "You have some explaining to do, young man."
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