Blue Dahlia Page 0,90
in a way she hadn't yearned for in so long. She wanted, craved, the heat that washed through her as the possessive stroke of those labor-scarred hands, the demanding crush of those insatiable lips, electrified her body.
She wanted, craved, all these quivering aches, these madly churning needs and the freedom to meet them.
She rose with him, body to body, moved with him, flesh to flesh. And drove him toward delirium with that creamy skin, those lovely curves. In the softening light, she looked beyond exquisite lying against the dark spread - that bright hair tumbled, those summer-blue eyes clouded with pleasure.
Passion radiated from her, meeting and matching his own. And so he wanted to give her more, and take more, and simply drown himself in what they brought to each other. The scent of her filled him like breath.
He murmured her name, savoring and exploiting as they explored each other. And there was more, he discovered, more than he'd expected.
Her heart lurched as those rugged hands guided her up, over, through the steep rise of desire. The crest rolled through her, a long, endless swell of sultry heat. She arched up again, crying out as she clamped her arms around him, pulses galloping.
Her mouth took his in a kind of ravenous madness, even as her mind screamed - Again!
He held on, held strong while she rode the peak, and the thrill her response brought him made him tremble. He ached, heart, mind, loins, ached to the point of pain.
And when he could bear it no longer, he drove into her.
She cried out once more, a sound of both shock and triumph. And she was already moving with him, a quick piston of hips, as her hands came up to frame his face.
She watched him, those blue eyes swimming, those lush lips trembling with each breath as they rose and fell together.
In the whole of his life, he'd never seen such beauty bloom.
When those eyes went blind, when they closed on a sobbing moan, he let himself go.
* * *
He was heavy. Very heavy. Stella lay still beneath Logan and pondered the wonder of being pinned, helplessly, under a man. She felt loose and sleepy and utterly relaxed. She imagined there was probably a nice pink light beaming quietly out of her fingers and toes.
His heart was thundering still. What woman wouldn't feel smug and satisfied knowing she'd caused a big, strong man to lose his breath?
Cat-content, she stroked her hands over his back.
He grunted, and rolled off of her.
She felt immediately exposed and self-conscious. Reaching out, she started to give the spread a little tug, to cover herself at least partially. Then he did something that froze her in place, and had her heart teetering.
He took her hand and kissed her fingers.
He said nothing, nothing at all, and she stayed very still while she tried to swallow her heart back into place.
"Guess I'd better feed you now," he said at length.
"Ah, I should call and make sure the boys are all right."
"Go ahead." He sat up, patting her naked thigh before he rolled out of bed and reached for his jeans.
"I'll go get things started in the kitchen."
He didn't bother with his shirt, but started out. Then he stopped, turned and looked at her.
"What?" She lifted an arm, casually, she hoped, over her breasts.
"I just like the way you look there. All mussed and flushed. Makes me want to muss and flush you some more, first chance I get."
"Oh." She tried to formulate a response, but he was already sauntering off. And whistling.
Chapter Fifteen
The man could cook. With little help from Stella, Logan put together a meal of delicately grilled tuna, herbed-up brown rice, and chunks of sauteed peppers and mushrooms. He was the sort of cook who dashed and dumped ingredients in by eye, or impulse, and seemed to enjoy it.
The results were marvelous.
She was an adequate cook, a competent one. She measured everything and considered cooking just one of her daily chores.
It was probably a good analogy for who they were, she decided. And another reason why it made little sense for her to be eating in his kitchen or being naked in his bed.
The sex had been ... incredible. No point in being less than honest about it. And after good, healthy sex she should've been feeling relaxed and loose and comfortable. Instead she felt tense and tight and awkward.
It had been so intense, then he'd just rolled out of bed and started dinner. They might