stroke of his hand down her back, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. She buried her nose in the collar of his shirt and breathed in the clean woodsy scent that even with her eyes closed she now identified with Logan.
She didn’t know how long they sat that way. Eventually she stirred, used the tissues she was still clutching to wipe her cheeks and nose. She raised her head, careful not to meet his eyes. It took a few tries before she found her voice. “Sorry about your shirt.”
He lifted her chin with the tip of a finger. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” And amazingly enough, despite the embarrassment of having Logan witness her meltdown, despite the disappointment of having an entire week of sexual tension fizzle out in a last-minute display of waterworks, she did feel better.
He shifted beneath her. That’s when she realized that she was sitting in his lap, her bottom pressed against his groin, her legs draped over his hard thigh. She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to scramble up without compromising what remained of her dignity. He stirred against her buttocks and she froze.
He sighed. “You can relax, Grace. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He broke off, cursing softly. “I can’t help the way my body reacts around you. All I have to do is look at you, think about you, and I get hard. But I can control what I do about it. You say no, and I stop. Okay?”
She exhaled softly. “Okay.”
He nodded and lifted her onto her feet before pushing off from the floor to rise beside her. “Now, how about that coffee?”
“I don’t think—” She backed up and her heel slipped on something.
Logan caught her elbow and steadied her. “Grace—”
She followed his gaze. Her purse lay on its side, its contents spilled across the floor. Wallet, keys, lipstick, condoms. An entire trail of them, including a packet peeking out from beneath her shoe. She flushed and scrambled to gather everything back into her bag. Logan’s fingers closed around the last condom packet just as she reached for it.
She raised her eyes to his. Pupils large enough to swim laps in stared back at her. She swallowed. “I’m sorry. But I can’t—”
He stood abruptly and offered her a hand up. Before she had the chance to step away, he cupped her hand and dropped the condom in her palm, closing her fingers over it.
Then he pivoted and headed down the hall. She stared in bemusement at his retreating back.
What just happened here?
She found him in the kitchen, filling an electric kettle with water. Two mugs sat on the counter, along with a green-topped jar of coffee.
“There’s milk in the fridge,” he said, without looking up.
She hesitated. “I should go.”
The water cut off. “No,” he said, his jaw tightening. “You should sit down and drink some decaf and talk to me. Tell me what the hell is going on.”
Her fingers tightened on her bag. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”
“Neither is turning tail and running.” He set the kettle on it base and turned it on. “Look, Grace, the only way this is going to work is if we talk. Get things out into the open. I know I haven’t been the best at doing that before, but I’m willing to try if you are. No more secrets. Whatever it is, whatever is going on, we’ll deal with it. Together. What do you say?”
Could it really be that easy? She doubted it. There were too many potential pitfalls.
What if she told him, and he couldn’t handle it? What if it changed the way he saw her? What if he couldn’t bring himself to touch her afterwards?
And even if he managed to get past it, what about her? What if she freaked out every time he ventured beyond a certain point? What if she was unable to have sex like a normal person, freezing every time a particular move triggered the memories?
No matter how well intentioned and patient a person was, everyone had his limits.
Even Logan.
But if she didn’t at least
She didn’t know how long they sat that way. Eventually she stirred, used the tissues she was still clutching to wipe her cheeks and nose. She raised her head, careful not to meet his eyes. It took a few tries before she found her voice. “Sorry about your shirt.”
He lifted her chin with the tip of a finger. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” And amazingly enough, despite the embarrassment of having Logan witness her meltdown, despite the disappointment of having an entire week of sexual tension fizzle out in a last-minute display of waterworks, she did feel better.
He shifted beneath her. That’s when she realized that she was sitting in his lap, her bottom pressed against his groin, her legs draped over his hard thigh. She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to scramble up without compromising what remained of her dignity. He stirred against her buttocks and she froze.
He sighed. “You can relax, Grace. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He broke off, cursing softly. “I can’t help the way my body reacts around you. All I have to do is look at you, think about you, and I get hard. But I can control what I do about it. You say no, and I stop. Okay?”
She exhaled softly. “Okay.”
He nodded and lifted her onto her feet before pushing off from the floor to rise beside her. “Now, how about that coffee?”
“I don’t think—” She backed up and her heel slipped on something.
Logan caught her elbow and steadied her. “Grace—”
She followed his gaze. Her purse lay on its side, its contents spilled across the floor. Wallet, keys, lipstick, condoms. An entire trail of them, including a packet peeking out from beneath her shoe. She flushed and scrambled to gather everything back into her bag. Logan’s fingers closed around the last condom packet just as she reached for it.
She raised her eyes to his. Pupils large enough to swim laps in stared back at her. She swallowed. “I’m sorry. But I can’t—”
He stood abruptly and offered her a hand up. Before she had the chance to step away, he cupped her hand and dropped the condom in her palm, closing her fingers over it.
Then he pivoted and headed down the hall. She stared in bemusement at his retreating back.
What just happened here?
She found him in the kitchen, filling an electric kettle with water. Two mugs sat on the counter, along with a green-topped jar of coffee.
“There’s milk in the fridge,” he said, without looking up.
She hesitated. “I should go.”
The water cut off. “No,” he said, his jaw tightening. “You should sit down and drink some decaf and talk to me. Tell me what the hell is going on.”
Her fingers tightened on her bag. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”
“Neither is turning tail and running.” He set the kettle on it base and turned it on. “Look, Grace, the only way this is going to work is if we talk. Get things out into the open. I know I haven’t been the best at doing that before, but I’m willing to try if you are. No more secrets. Whatever it is, whatever is going on, we’ll deal with it. Together. What do you say?”
Could it really be that easy? She doubted it. There were too many potential pitfalls.
What if she told him, and he couldn’t handle it? What if it changed the way he saw her? What if he couldn’t bring himself to touch her afterwards?
And even if he managed to get past it, what about her? What if she freaked out every time he ventured beyond a certain point? What if she was unable to have sex like a normal person, freezing every time a particular move triggered the memories?
No matter how well intentioned and patient a person was, everyone had his limits.
Even Logan.
But if she didn’t at least
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