“I hope you’ll join us tomorrow evening?”
He shook his head, glancing at Lindsay. “Maybe another time. Good night, everyone.”
Lindsay ignored him and began to clear the table. Mmm, something strange was going on here; usually Lindsay got along with everybody.
“Thanks for stopping by.” Charlie followed Blake to the front door.
On the porch, he turned around. “Please see if you can’t convince your sister to return to the self-defense classes? And do let me know if she...if any of you need help? I have contacts ... there are people who can help.”
“Thanks, will do.” Charlie smiled and waved as he ran down the steps toward his car.
Blake had contacts? What contacts? She glanced up and down the street. There weren’t any strange cars in sight, thank goodness.
Closing the door, she gnashed her teeth. Nothing was going to happen to Lindsay while she was around.
Chapter 10
When Logan parked in front of Charlie’s rooms on Friday afternoon, he was fifteen minutes late. He glanced at his watch, then swore. This was what happened when women took over your life.
He should’ve been in his office working, yet here he was, waiting to see Charlie. Just about panting, to be honest. The flight had been slightly delayed; it took time to get a car and then he’d driven way too fast to get here. Why? Because he wanted to see Charlie. He needed to see her with a near desperation that was really scary.
For a moment he just sat in his car, breathing. Inside was Charlie. The reason why he couldn’t sleep or eat or concentrate on his work. The reason he’d left work, traveled the distance to Alisson again in less than a week.
Cursing, he got out and strode toward the building. It had been six days since he’d first seen her. Maybe this craziness had run its course; maybe, by some miracle, when he’d see her again in a few minutes, she’d just be another pretty girl he’d kissed one night.
The bubbly receptionist he remembered from a week ago was chatting on the phone when he entered. Her eyes widened when she saw him and she quickly ended her call. “Good day, Mr. Johnson.” She smiled and stepped out from behind the counter. “We didn’t know you’re the four o’clock! Please follow me. Charlie will be so...surprised.” She chuckled.
He clenched his teeth. Bloody Anna. So, she’d never mentioned his name to Charlie? It was high time he fired her; this was getting ridiculous.
The receptionist threw open Charlie’s door. “Charlie—do I have a surprise for you!” she called out while motioning him to enter. “I’ll see you Monday,” she sang. “Lindsay has already left for the day. I’ll lock the front door on my way out!” And then she was gone.
Somewhere in his befuddled brain this important piece of information registered—he and Charlie were all alone for the rest of the day.
And there she was, standing behind her chair, looking breathtakingly beautiful. A soft, polka-dot dress, the color of watermelon, crossed snugly over her breasts. And if he wasn’t mistaken, one solitary button was all that kept the dress in place. Her bangles jingled as if they were nervous; the shining mini-chandeliers on her ears swung from side to side as she moved.
Without taking his eyes off her, he walked into the room and closed the door behind him.
He now accepted what he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge all week long—it was going to take a while before he could get Charlie out of his thoughts, his dreams, his mind. She was never going to be just another girl he’d kissed.
To forget about Charlie wouldn’t be easy.
All the blood left her brain, and for a moment Charlie was worried she was going to pass out like an old-fashioned love story heroine. She leaned against the wall, waiting for life to return to her feet.
She hadn’t expected to see Logan ever again. Yet here he was, another perfectly knotted tie around his neck, buttoned-up jacket, hair neatly combed backward. How she would love to mess up all that perfectly groomed hair. For a moment, she was worried she’d spoken out loud.
He was coming closer and closer. She couldn’t breathe. For heaven’s sake, she needed to remember what he’d said: she wasn’t his type. Replaying the words over and over in her head like a mantra, she watched as he walked around her desk until he stood directly in front her.
“Charlie.”
Her breath got stuck in her throat, but she nevertheless opened her mouth, hoping she would at least sound as if seeing him hadn’t just sent her heartbeat into a frenzy. “Logan.” Surely the husky, sexy voice wasn’t hers?
“Where do you want me?” he asked, his eyes on her mouth.
What was he talking about? She’d take him anywhere and anytime...
“On the table?” he asked, turned around, and walked toward it. “On my back or face down?”
Of course, he was talking about the table—what was she thinking? Finally, she got her voice back and her feet miraculously moved. “Face down, please? I’ll be with you in a minute.”
And she nearly ran out of the room. Out of breath, she reached the bathroom. Inhaling deeply, she washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this. It was only forty-five minutes. What could happen in forty-five minutes?
Focusing on her breathing, she tried to get her heart to settle down, but by the time she walked back into the room, her hands were still shaking so much, she wasn’t sure whether she’d be able to help Logan.
She fidgeted with her bangles while walking toward the table, and it was only when she’d reached it that she looked up. He was lying face down all right, but this time he’d not only taken off his jacket and tie, he’d also taken off his shirt.
He heart kicked against her ribs. “It wasn’t... You didn’t have to...” she began, but again she sounded more call girl than professional therapist, and she swallowed the rest of her questions. This was a job. He was a client. In pain. And she could help.
“It’s more comfortable this way.” His voice was gruff.
She cleared her throat. “So, do you still experience some discomfort?” she got out. “Exactly where?” Oh, my goodness, that came out very wrong.
He turned his head and opened his eyes. “You really want to know?”
She shivered and shook her head. Was it her imagination or had the temperature in the room risen several degrees? From the previous times she’d done this, she knew exactly where on his back she should apply the rolling movements, but she hesitated. Today, there wasn’t a shirt between her hands and his body. She’d be touching him without any barrier between flesh and flesh.
Taking a deep breath, she put her hands on him and tried to focus on the gentle massaging technique she knew so well. She didn’t have to get palpitations simply because she was touching a man, for crying out loud.
“Talk to me?” he asked. “Tell me something. Anything. Because otherwise I may just get up and do something we’ll both regret.” He inhaled deeply. “Tell me more about this...this therapy.”
How was she supposed to talk when her blood was pounding, her heart just about jumping out of her body, her breasts swollen in anticipation, her body getting ready for...? Oh, help! She was burning up.
Talk. Good idea. She could talk. She loved talking. Usually when working with clients, she was unfazed and would chatter away, trying to get her clients to relax, but with this guy there was no way she could relax. Every cell in her body was on red alert, as if waiting for something.
Doing her level best to ignore the haze of lust threatening to engulf her, she began the rolling motions on the soft tissue of his lower back, while answering his question.
She’d told the story often enough; by this time, she knew it by heart. “It ...” Oh, my word, what was up with her voice? Clearing her throat, she continued, “It was developed by Thomas A. Bowen in the 1950s. He lived in Geelong, Australia, and after serving in World War II, he became interested in finding out ways to relieve pain in the human body. Apparently, he loved sports and it was while attending games, Victorian-rul
es football games, he became interested in massage and other soft-tissue manipulation.”
“So, where did you hear about the technique?”
“My back... I was in a car accident and had a problem for a while. Doctors wanted to operate but I wasn’t keen. I tried other therapies, but nothing worked. Someone told me about the Bowen technique and although I was very skeptical at first, I thought I’d give it a try. After four visits, I was fed up and cancelled the rest of my sessions. But the very next morning I woke up without pain.”
“And here we are,” he said.
She lifted her hands. “And here we are,” she repeated. “Okay, relax, I’ll be back in a little while.”
But before she could move, in one movement, he’d rolled over and was sitting on the bed. Her gaze was level with his chest, and although her brain was sending her frantic messages to leave, her feet refused to cooperate. She zoomed in on his muscled torso, also ignoring the alarm bells.
A perfect six-pack. Of course, he’d have a perfect six-pack; everything about him was perfect.
“Charlie.” His voice was guttural, sending her already overstimulated senses into a frenzy. Warm fingers slid around her neck; he lifted her chin. His blue eyes had darkened, with desire. “I’m going to kiss you. It’s all I’ve been thinking of all week...”
Slowly, he pulled her closer. Hypnotized, she stared at his mouth. He was giving her ample opportunity to stop him, but she wasn’t going to. He knew that. She knew that. Because finally, she could admit to herself how much she wanted this; she’d been dreaming about this for nearly a week.
The roaring in his ears eliminated all other sounds. Nothing else mattered but to quench this thirst and satiate the hunger deep inside of him, something he could now acknowledge, was only possible here, with her.
Finally, his lips found hers. Soft. Welcoming. Wet. He could spend days, hours, simply kissing her. His arms gathered her closer. Roses and satin and curves and sexy lines—all woman. Finally, he was able to do what he’d been dreaming about for days—touch her.
Joyously, his tongue found its way to where it tangled with hers in a slow, sexy dance. Swallowing her gasp, he opened his legs wider, pulling her closer, making sure she knew exactly what being near her did to him. And still it wasn’t enough. Not even close.
Desperately, as he slipped his hand beneath the V of her dress, he was intent on one thing only—to touch her softness. Maybe then he would be able to rein in this galloping desire to devour her. But the minute he encountered her hardened nipple, his heart tripped, slid into another gear.
He lifted his head. Glazed blue eyes stared up at him.
“I have to...” he whispered, and trailing his mouth over her chin, down her neck, he undid the button. He was right—it was the only thing keeping the dress in place.
It was a good thing he was sitting down. Otherwise he probably would’ve keeled over at the sight before him. Black satin and lace. That was all she was wearing underneath the dress. Black against pearl-white skin.
“You’re killing me,” he groaned and watched as her eyes fluttered open.
With his eyes never leaving hers, he covered her breasts with both his shaking hands. “Beautiful, so beautiful,” he whispered. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
He bent down, desperate to have more of her. His hands slipped the dress over her shoulders, and with a whisper, it dropped to the ground.
“Logan,” she gasped. Her fingers spread out over his chest, sending his blood pounding through his veins. He tried to unhook her bra—he was usually quite adept at it—but this time he was clumsy, struggling to complete the simple task.
With a swift movement, she helped him. Generous breasts spilled out into his eager hands. He claimed her lips again, his hands kneading, worshiping, reveling in the softness of her curves.
And still he wanted more.
He lifted his head, drinking in the sight of her, only dressed in those damn bangles, mini-chandeliers on her ears, and a small triangle of black silk and lace.
With his eyes never leaving hers, he skimmed his hands down the sides of her body. She shuddered and with a groan, he gathered her close. He was ready to burst, but all he could think about was pleasuring the woman in his arms.
Unsteadily, his hand slipped down her body so that he could finally touch her intimately.
Charlie was burning up. Around them the air had thickened, making breathing difficult. Clever fingers explored and stroked and rubbed, and she was lost. Her whole body began to tremble. Her head fell backward while one delicious tremor after another took her to a place she’d never been before.
When she was finally able to focus again, Logan had reversed their positions. She was now sitting on the bed and he was standing in front of her, his arms around her.
“That...” He exhaled. “That was beautiful.”
He claimed her lips again, her hands slid slowly over down his back, and... Gasping, she lifted her head and looked down. He was gloriously naked. Her heart kicked against her ribs, heating her blood instantly. All muscles and toned lines, he was magnificent.
“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice husky.
Talking wasn’t possible—she could only nod. Eagerly, her hands closed around him. Velvet heat throbbed in her hand, nearly sending her over the edge again.
With a groan, he caught her hands. “If you do that, this will be over way too soon and I want... I need to be inside you.”
He pulled her closer but then stopped and cursed softly. “Damn, I nearly forgot. Protection. My pants.”
Moments later, he claimed her mouth again.
A whirlwind of feelings mixed with passion and something she couldn’t quite put a name to swept her up. Unable to communicate these intense feelings, she simply clung to him.
Big, warm hands stroked her body, lighting little fires just beneath her skin everywhere they went. Hungrily, his mouth scraped and nibbled her flesh, the sensation of his lips and tongue torturing her.
Frantically, she reared up, skimming her nails down his back, demanding more. The ache in her belly was unbearable, his body the only panacea. She was shivering—from heat, from need, from desire. “Logan...” she managed, dragging his head closer so their lips could meet again.
His mouth was hot and urgent and she nearly came apart right then. Without lifting his lips from hers, he spread her legs wider and with one forward thrust of his body, he slid into her.
She closed around him like a glove, choking out his name, and he almost lost control. This was home—here, inside of her, being a part of her.
He tried to slow down—this was for her—but his muscles quivered in protest. He’d never wanted anyone with such a hunger; he’d never wanted to please anyone else this much.
Her body curved up, her head fell back, and she cried out as she hit the next crest. A red haze threatened to blur his vision, but he desperately tried to focus. He wanted to give her more, and he had to see her when they both exploded.
“Look at me,” he got out.
Dazed, she stared at him, her face flushed, her eyes darkened with desire. Deep inside him something stirred, but she began to move, and within seconds, they’d reach the pinnacle together. With her name a mantra on his lips and the sound of her jingling bangles in his ears, he threw back his head and took them both over the edge.
Chapter 11
Exactly how it happened, she wasn’t sure, but they were both lying on the narrow table when she became aware of her surroundings again. Logan was behind her, his hands on her breasts, their legs entangled.
“I can’t believe we’re both on this table.” She giggled and lifted her hand to touch his face.
His laugh rumbled in her ear and he hugged her close. “My leg is numb, but I’m not complaining.”
Her phone rang. She tried to move, but he held her closer still. “One more minute, please?”
“It may be Lindsay,” she said. “And I don’t want her to worry.”<
br />
He let her go and she got up.
“Why would she worry? Have you heard from the ex-boyfriend again?”
But it was very difficult to answer questions when he was still buck naked. And look at his hair—she’d messed it up all right. There were things she should be doing. Putting on her clothes, phoning Lindsay...
“How the hell am I supposed to get dressed if you look at me like that?” he murmured, and with two strides, he reached her. Burying his face in her neck, he pulled her close. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
He was ready for her again. Oh, my. Hungry lips claimed hers and she was lost.
Another hour passed before they were finally dressed. Charlie was on the phone with Lindsay while he locked the door to their rooms. If he’d had his way, they would’ve stayed here for the rest of the night. But besides the fact that the table was really uncomfortable and definitely not meant for making love, Logan knew his mother was waiting for him.
“Can I give you a ride home?” he asked.
“Please, if you don’t mind. I love walking home, but it’s now so late after you...after we...” Her cheeks reddened and he smiled.
“I can’t believe you’re still blushing after I’ve ravished you for the past two hours,” he teased, taking her hand.
Her breath hitched. “Don’t say things like that; we’ll never leave here if you do.”
“And what you’re saying will help?” he growled, then kissed her.
She giggled and danced around to the passenger seat, bangles jingling, earrings bouncing. Laughing, he followed her and opened the door. As she climbed into the car, one long, sexy leg flashed between the panels of her dress for a moment before she demurely closed it.
“Damn woman, you’re killing me.” He bent down and kissed her, his hand quickly finding its way through the slip of the dress to her heat. “How the hell am I supposed to keep my eyes on the road,” he murmured against her lips.
Her eyes darkened and she grabbed his hand. “Logan...”
Kissing Charlie Page 8
