“There’s not much to see. Powder room. Living/dining area. Kitchen.”
She stopped abruptly in the final doorway. A massive bed dominated the room. Oh, God. She could feel Logan’s presence behind her. The heat of his body. The smell of his cologne. She closed her eyes, tried to calm the jackhammering of her heart.
His fingers raised goosebumps along her arm, her shoulder. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Grace.”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, allowing him better access. Light kisses trailed down her neck, in a slow, hypnotic path to the pulse that fluttered above her collarbone. A hand stroked up her waist, across her stomach. Another hand settled on her hip. She could feel his chest expanding with each breath, brushing against her back. His erection nudged her bottom.
The stiff material of his jeans felt rough against the back of her leg. It distracted her, long enough for his fingers to glide beneath her shirt and up her ribcage, pausing just shy of her bra. And then he went higher, palming her breast through the thin material, squeezing lightly, as if testing the weight.
She was so focused on the thrill of his fingers circling her nipple, plucking and teasing it into a tight bud, that she nearly missed the movement of his other hand, drawing up the hem of her skirt and skimming the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her eyes flew open.
She could see their reflection in the sliding glass doors along the opposite wall, back-lit by the soft spill of light from hallway. His dark head bent over her, his massive shoulders and arms surrounding her, dwarfing her.
Her lungs seized. Spots danced before her eyes, and the room wavered.
She dropped the purse and grabbed his hands. Drew a shuddering breath. “Stop.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then his fingers loosened, withdrew. Not completely, but enough to allow the tight band around her chest to ease.
“Grace?”
She started trembling, fine tremors expanding from her core until it felt like her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. The air shifted, and suddenly he wasn’t behind her anymore, but in front of her, peering down into her face, brows drawn, hands lightly gripping her upper arms.
She jerked away, backing up until she bumped into the wall and there was nowhere else to go, and then she slid down, all the way to the floor, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. If she squeezed hard enough, maybe this would all go away, like a bad dream, and she would open her eyes and be back in her old bedroom at her grandparents’ house. Her forehead dropped to her knees. Her throat tightened, and she felt the familiar pressure behind her eyes. Not now. She wasn’t going to cry. Not again, not over this.
She heard Logan moving around. He probably thought she was crazy. Certifiable. Or worse yet, a cock-tease. Hadn’t he tried to slow things down? He’d given her plenty of outs along the way. And what had she done? Had she listened to the voice of reason? Of course not. She’d barreled straight ahead, into territory she clearly wasn’t ready for. She wondered if she’d ever be ready. If she’d ever feel normal again.
“Here.”
She raised her head to see that he’d returned. He was crouching in front of her, a wad of tissues in his outstretched hand. When she made no move to take it, he slowly raised his free hand and brushed his thumb across one cheek and then the other.
“Okay,” he said, raising the tissues toward her nose. “Now blow.”
Her fingers closed around the tissues before he made contact. The trickle of tears accelerated into a flood, as if released by a water main break deep inside. Harsh, ugly, racking sobs shook her body. Logan’s image wavered.
“Oh, Grace.” His arms came around her, and she felt herself being lifted, briefly, and resettled. Instead of hard floor and wall, she was now surrounded by warm male, and miraculously the flare of panic seemed to recede, soothed by the slow
She stopped abruptly in the final doorway. A massive bed dominated the room. Oh, God. She could feel Logan’s presence behind her. The heat of his body. The smell of his cologne. She closed her eyes, tried to calm the jackhammering of her heart.
His fingers raised goosebumps along her arm, her shoulder. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Grace.”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, allowing him better access. Light kisses trailed down her neck, in a slow, hypnotic path to the pulse that fluttered above her collarbone. A hand stroked up her waist, across her stomach. Another hand settled on her hip. She could feel his chest expanding with each breath, brushing against her back. His erection nudged her bottom.
The stiff material of his jeans felt rough against the back of her leg. It distracted her, long enough for his fingers to glide beneath her shirt and up her ribcage, pausing just shy of her bra. And then he went higher, palming her breast through the thin material, squeezing lightly, as if testing the weight.
She was so focused on the thrill of his fingers circling her nipple, plucking and teasing it into a tight bud, that she nearly missed the movement of his other hand, drawing up the hem of her skirt and skimming the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her eyes flew open.
She could see their reflection in the sliding glass doors along the opposite wall, back-lit by the soft spill of light from hallway. His dark head bent over her, his massive shoulders and arms surrounding her, dwarfing her.
Her lungs seized. Spots danced before her eyes, and the room wavered.
She dropped the purse and grabbed his hands. Drew a shuddering breath. “Stop.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then his fingers loosened, withdrew. Not completely, but enough to allow the tight band around her chest to ease.
“Grace?”
She started trembling, fine tremors expanding from her core until it felt like her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. The air shifted, and suddenly he wasn’t behind her anymore, but in front of her, peering down into her face, brows drawn, hands lightly gripping her upper arms.
She jerked away, backing up until she bumped into the wall and there was nowhere else to go, and then she slid down, all the way to the floor, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. If she squeezed hard enough, maybe this would all go away, like a bad dream, and she would open her eyes and be back in her old bedroom at her grandparents’ house. Her forehead dropped to her knees. Her throat tightened, and she felt the familiar pressure behind her eyes. Not now. She wasn’t going to cry. Not again, not over this.
She heard Logan moving around. He probably thought she was crazy. Certifiable. Or worse yet, a cock-tease. Hadn’t he tried to slow things down? He’d given her plenty of outs along the way. And what had she done? Had she listened to the voice of reason? Of course not. She’d barreled straight ahead, into territory she clearly wasn’t ready for. She wondered if she’d ever be ready. If she’d ever feel normal again.
“Here.”
She raised her head to see that he’d returned. He was crouching in front of her, a wad of tissues in his outstretched hand. When she made no move to take it, he slowly raised his free hand and brushed his thumb across one cheek and then the other.
“Okay,” he said, raising the tissues toward her nose. “Now blow.”
Her fingers closed around the tissues before he made contact. The trickle of tears accelerated into a flood, as if released by a water main break deep inside. Harsh, ugly, racking sobs shook her body. Logan’s image wavered.
“Oh, Grace.” His arms came around her, and she felt herself being lifted, briefly, and resettled. Instead of hard floor and wall, she was now surrounded by warm male, and miraculously the flare of panic seemed to recede, soothed by the slow
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