Logan couldn’t remember hearing two more beautiful words in his life. Even if she had volunteered so she could ream him a new one, he was on board with that. Because Bella had come to him. He could have killed Duncan for worrying her but... she had come. And he was clinging to that.
Not that she got the chance to yell at him once he was safely ensconced in the car half an hour later because he fell asleep almost instantly. From fatigue, exhaustion, the residual effects of heavy duty narcotics and the kind of peace of mind he hadn’t had in two weeks.
Because she’d come.
It felt like he’d been asleep for a day when his door opened and he prised his eyelids open. “We’re here,” she said, crouched down beside him.
He smiled at her. She was a sight for sore eyes. And a sore body. “Your hire car is going to reek of smoke,” he murmured, conscious his words sounded slightly slurred.
“I’ll get it detailed,” she dismissed, standing briskly then hovering as he eased out of the vehicle.
When they reached the lifts she insisted on rolling the door up and pulling the cage open. “The doctor said no heavy lifting.”
He watched her grimace with the effort of manoeuvring the heavy steel and stepped in to help, the last thing they needed was her dislocating her hip. She put a hand on his chest to stop him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my left arm,” he grumbled.
“Humour me. You’re going to be doing that a lot tonight.”
Logan was pretty sure she didn’t mean that as some kind of sexy come on but, whether it was the drugs or the fact that she’d come to the hospital, his body was totally going there.
Things stirred. Things that clearly weren’t as fatigued or as drug affected as the rest of him.
“Oh, yeah?” he murmured as he stepped into the lift and she shut the cage behind them. “What do you plan on doing to me?”
“I’m putting you in the bath. Then I’m putting you to bed.”
Well... fuck. That didn’t really help with the stirring problem no matter how businesslike she’d said it. He wanted bath and bed too but mostly he wanted her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She didn’t respond. In fact she didn’t seem in any kind of mood to use her words and Logan didn’t push. They were clearly going to have to talk but just being with her was enough for now. Frankly, he was too damn exhausted to string a sentence together.
Flash was ecstatic to see Bella and she paused to give him some love as Logan continued into the bedroom. He wanted out of his smoky clothes. He’d just toed off his boots when Bella joined him, Flash at her heels. Their gazes locked for a moment before she headed for his en suite and he heard the sound of water hitting porcelain.
“Stay, Flash,” he said then crossed to the bathroom and stood in the doorway, checking out the curve of her ass as she bent slightly at the hips to check the temperature in his bathtub. She was wearing some kind of loose track pants which sat low on her hips.
“Hot,” he said.
She looked over her shoulder at him, clocking his interest in her butt.
“The bath.” He smiled. “Nice and hot.”
He needed it to ease into all his muscles and soothe their aches. She turned back and twisted the hot tap a little more until a satisfying puff of steam rose from the rapidly filling bath.
Logan used his good hand to undo the buttons of his shirt – what was left of it. He vaguely remembered hearing the shearing noise of scissors but he’d been in too much pain to pay it any heed. The only thing he remembered with any kind of clarity was the moment the drugs had finally hit. The relief had been euphoric.
No wonder people became drug addicts.
He was grappling with the buttons beneath the cumbersome sling when she crossed to him and placed her hand over his. “Let me.”
He swallowed. “I can undress myself.”
“I know. But you’re almost out on your feet and you only have one arm so...”
She made short work of the buttons, easing the shirt off his good shoulder and gently peeling away the tattered remains from the rest of his body.
She tossed it aside before her hand strayed to his trousers. “You want me to stop?” Her gaze locked with his, her fingers cool against his belly as they fiddled with the top button of his fly.
Logan’s blood pounded thick and heavy through his veins. He should say yes. He could undress himself albeit a little awkwardly.
“No.”
His eyes fluttered closed as her fingernails scraped over his rapidly hardening cock. There was nothing lingering or caressing about her movement, it was brisk and methodical and he doubted she was aware of the effect she was having on him as she undid the five buttons.
Logan opened his eyes to find her watching him. She smelled good. So good. Although compared to his sweaty, smoky self that wouldn’t be hard. Her hands shifted to his hips, fingers hooking under his waistband but he stopped her with a rough noise at the back of his throat. He wanted to warn her at least about his arousal.
“I’m afraid there’s a little... excitement going on down there.”
Both eyebrows winged upwards. “Oh...”
She seemed genuinely surprised and he dredged up a smile. “What did you think would happen when you talked about bathing me and putting me to bed then started undressing me?”
Her throat bobbed and he almost groaned out loud. “But... you’re exhausted.”
“Yes. Exhausted. Not dead.” He gestured vaguely to his pants.
She glanced down at the flaps of his open fly then back at him again. “Well that’s... inconvenient.”
Logan gave her a ghost of a smile. “You have no idea.”
For long moments she didn’t say anything then she nodded as if she’d made up her mind. “Come on,” she said, “let’s get you into the bath.”
She stripped his trousers and his underwear down his legs in one smooth movement, crouching in front of him as she eased them off his feet. His aching quads trembled at the sight of her at his feet, her blonde head bent over the job. He gave her extra marks for valiantly ignoring the hard jut of his cock as she tossed his trousers aside then stripped off his socks.
“Bath,” she said, standing, still ignoring the elephant in the room.
It felt like a bloody elephant too – big and hard and long. And difficult to unsee.
Logan sighed and reached around to the Velcro joining at his neck to undo the sling but she slid a hand on his arm and said, “Wait until the last moment to take it off.”
Her hand slid away as she turned back to the bath. It was one of those trendy oval freestanding tubs just a little out from, and parallel to, the far bathroom wall. The taps jutted off the wall at the midpoint leaving plenty of room to move around at both ends. A flat shelf next to the taps housed his soap and shampoo.
Steam rose from the three-quarter full tub as she turned the water off. “That’s hot,” she said, trailing her fingers over the surface.
“Good.”
Logan grimaced as he lifted first one leg then the other into the water. It was hot but not unbearably so. Hot enough to work magic on his muscles and hopefully too hot for his annoyingly persistent erection. He lifted his hand again but her fingers beat him to it, light and cool against his neck.
“Hold your arm close.”
He did as he was instructed, taking the weight of his limb as she undid the Velcro fasteners and eased the sling away.
“Okay?” she asked, her voice husky.
His shoulder ached slightly more than the rest of him but compared to the pain from earlier it was a walk in the park.
He nodded. “It really isn’t hurting that much anymore.”
He kept his injured arm close as he grabbed the side of the tub with his good hand and lowered himself slowly into the hot depths, every muscle protesting. He groaned and shut his eyes as he settled his head against the end.
“So good,” he muttered as the water enveloped him and cushioned his injured shoulder. He loved that he could stretch out in a bathtub that was big enough to accommodate his size.
Her voice drifted to him he didn’t know how many minutes later. “Logan?”
“Mmmm?” He forced heavy eyelids open to look at her.
She handed him the girly, purple loofah thingy she’d left in his shower and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to throw out. “Use this.”
He took it without protest, shutting his eyes again. He knew he had to get clean, he knew how filthy he must be, he just wanted a minute or two to enjoy the heat and weightlessness of the water. And, hey, at least his erection had deflated.
The next thing he knew there was a hand on his good shoulder, squeezing lightly and he roused again. It felt like an hour but the water was still good and hot.
“Scoot forward.”
Logan frowned and looked over his shoulder at bare thighs. His gaze travelled up her body. Up, up, up. Her legs weren’t the only things that were bare. A ceramic jug hid the juncture of her thighs from his view but everything else was on display.
Suddenly he felt very, very awake. “You’re joining me?”
“You’re done in,” she said simply. “Now scoot.”
He stared at her for long moments, keeping his gaze trained on her face. If she hadn’t been here he’d have had to take care of this himself. But she was.
“I’m filthy.” He wasn’t sure why he was protesting so much. Except he knew what colour the bath water was after a long day of fighting fires.
“Lucky we have soap then.”
Logan took in the determined jut of her chin and gave in to temptation. He bent his knees, braced his injured arm against his chest, grabbed the side of the tub and hauled himself upright to allow her to slip in behind him. The water level crept up as she settled in.
So did his dick.
No part of her was touching him but her nearness was a tangible force behind him. “Tip your head back. I’ll wash your hair.”
Logan did what he was told. His short hair wasn’t exactly hard to manage but he was too damn tired and too damn turned on to protest. The thought of her hands on him was irresistible.
The thought of her taking care of him even more so.
Hot water sluiced over his head and down his neck and back followed quickly by her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. He was incapable of thinking of anything else. His brain cells went to mush. So did his body. Everything melting and liquefying.
Mostly everything anyway...
His eyes closed and his skin broke out in goose bumps as she kept up the drugging massage, his nipples contracting with each scrape of her fingernails. When her hands finally left his scalp it was only to continue the slow, torturous massage lower. The soft, scratchy fabric of that girly-assed loofah travelled down his nape and around the front of his neck.
She dragged it across his good shoulder and arm right down to his fingers then squeezed the soap out of it over the top of his bad one before ever so gently whispering it over the injured joint and down that arm. His back came next, the loofah gliding with soapy ease over every contour, all the way down to the top of his buttocks.
“Head back again.” Her voice wasn’t much higher than a whisper.
Logan obeyed and more warm water was sluiced over him, her hand sifting through his hair as she poured and poured, ridding it and his body of every last soap bubble.
By the time she was done his body was humming and desire thrummed at every pulse point.
And she hadn’t done the front yet.
“Lay back,” she whispered in his ear, her hand sliding onto his good shoulder, urging him backwards.
He didn’t need to be asked twice as he surrendered to the pull and eased his body down into the cradle of hers. His head fitted into the crook of her shoulder and his back was plastered along her front. He could feel the soft squash of her breasts and the hard points of her nipples pebbled against his shoulder blades. He was conscious of her parted legs, bent at the knees, her thighs bracketing his hips. Conscious too that she could see right down his body to the taut, heaviness of his erection.
She didn’t say anything, though. Just lay quietly, one hand gently splashing warm water over the exposed area of his chest.
He didn’t know what this meant, her being with him here like this. Would she have tended to him so lovingly if she was still planning on going back to Melbourne? Before the accident his plan had been to seek her out tonight and beg her to take him back, to give him a second chance.
But she’d come to him. And he wasn’t going to squander this opportunity. There were things he needed to say.
“I’m sorry.”
His apology sat in the silence between them for long, agonising moments. Her hand stopped its swishing through the water, her muscles tensed beneath him and for a beat or two he thought she might not say anything.
But then she sighed and her body relaxed slightly. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“Yes, we do.” He couldn’t live another night without her by his side. He took a slow, deep breath. “I shouldn’t have let your father sway me from what I knew to be right.”
Her cheek rubbed against his temple as she shook her head. “It’s fine, Logan.” Her hand squeezed his good shoulder. “I understand. Really. I meant what I said a couple of weeks ago. I’m not mad about it anymore.”
Yes, but then she’d walked way, asked for a clean break. Today she’d come to him and he hoped like hell that boded well. But first, there were more apologies to make.
“There’s more,” he continued. “You were right. I have been waiting...hoping deep down that something might happen between us that would trigger a memory for you. I was gutted when you told me about it, when you said it’d been four years and there’d been nothing, that most people don’t get their memories back. But then you knew Flash’s name and I started to hope that this was the place where your amnesia might be resolved.”
He still remembered the flare of hope he’d felt that day. Now he didn’t care about their past. Only their future.
“Started to hope that our love might be the key. That I might be the key. I especially thought that Faith might be some kind of catalyst for your memory.” And he’d hurt her in the process. “But that was selfish and unfair of me. I know it put an enormous amount of pressure on you and I really do understand that your memory’s probably never coming back.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hand tightened its grip on his shoulder. “You don’t know how much I wish that wasn’t the case.”
He did know. He could hear it in her voice. He knew if he turned around he’d see it stamped all over her face. “Don’t go to Melbourne.” His heart slammed against his rib cage so hard she must surely be able to feel it. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. Stay here and let me love you properly this time. Let’s start over. Looking forward this time, not back.”
Arabella’s heart almost burst with emotion. Looking forward with Logan – with the man she loved – was exactly what she wanted. She’d wanted it even as she was packing her bags but it took him on a hospital gurney to realise she wanted it regardless of whether he could let go of the past or not.
Because their past – their love, their relationship, their baby – was very much part of his present life. It would be impossible for him to just wipe it from his memory banks.
As impossible as it was for her to gain it back.
She shifted. Slowly – gently – sliding out from under him on his non injured side and rolling onto her stomach to face him, chest to chest, her legs floating free over top of his. All the heavy talk had taken care of his erection but she was conscious of his nudity and of hers.
She’d tried to bath him with complete detachment but she was no nurse. The way his muscles had quivered beneath her touch, the way he’d groaned all soft and ragged had tugged at her deep and low. By the time she’d finished she’d been practically groaning herself.
Not that she’d finished really – his face was a testament to that. It was cleaner than it had been but there was still grime where his earlobes met his jawline and around his nostrils and in the cleft of his chin. It clung stubbornly to the fine lines in his forehead and ringed his eyes like black kohl.
“Looking forward could be easier said than done.” She wanted him to know she understood his dilemma too. That she wasn’t the only injured party where her amnesia was concerned.
“I’m not going to forget it, forget us, Bella, and, yeah, I guess there’ll always be a little part of me that will hope for a miracle.” He brushed her damp fringe off her forehead with his good hand. “I’m just not going to let it interfere in our relationship from now on.”
“You think you can let go of that girl from the past, huh?”
He gave her a tired smile which was crazy sexy. “God... I was hopelessly infatuated with that girl.” He shook his head and she could see the self-deprecation in his gaze. “But she wasn’t the woman sitting outside the firehouse that day. You were. She wasn’t the one I fell in love with all over again. I fell in love with you.”
His good hand slid onto the small of her back and she shivered at the touch, her skin erupting in goose bumps.
“And I want to make a whole lifetime of new memories with you. If you’ll have me. What do you say?”
Tears threatened as Bella’s heart suddenly felt too big for her chest. What did she say?
“Yes,” she whispered. “A million times yes.”
She shifted, grounding her knees against the bottom of the tub, disturbing the water as she straddled him, sitting back slightly. The cooler air caused her nipples to pebble and the way his gaze dropped and widened as he looked his fill grabbed big handfuls of her gut and squeezed.
She grabbed the tub edges with her hands and leaned in to kiss him, quick and hard. She was careful not to jostle him but she needed it more than oxygen. His deep groan slid straight between her legs where his erection was making itself known again.
She was breathing erratically when she pulled out of it to stare at him long and hard. She loved him so much it hurt. It hurt especially to see the sooty evidence of just how dangerous it could be fighting fires for a living.
She might have thought it terribly sexy and exciting at nineteen but just thinking about what might have happened today had that ceiling fallen on him, or what could happen to him in the future, sucked her breath away. “You scared me half to death tonight,” she said, sitting back again, searching his gaze.
“I’m fine.”
Arabella shook her head. “You have a dislocated shoulder and a ceiling almost fell on your head.”
“But it didn’t.”
“But what if it had?”
“I was wearing a helmet. Plus I have a very hard head.”
He was making light of it but she didn’t see anything funny about it. “Your job is dangerous.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “If you’re untrained and you don’t know what you’re doing. But I am trained and I do know what I’m doing and my safety and that of the guys I work with is paramount. I’m good at my job, Bella.”
His fingers stroked lazy patterns from her hip to her buttocks and she fought the urge to close her eyes. He was good at that too. The sensation tingled between her legs where his dick lay taut and hard and she rocked against it involuntarily.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you every time I hear a bloody siren.”
His fingers stopped their maddening pattern, his eyes opened, burning bright, piercing her with their intensity.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve told me, quite rightly, that I’m going to have to live with the fact that your memory is never going to come back. Well, Bella, you’re going to have to live with the fact that occasionally my job can be dangerous but that I take my safety very seriously and I promise you I will always come home to you. Always.”
Arabella knew that no one in life could make that kind of promise but conviction blazed like lightning in his eyes. She’d asked something impossible of him, she’d asked him to give up hope and now he was asking something just as hard of her.
She’d only known him for a few months but she already knew being a firefighter was as much a part of Logan as the air he breathed and he was asking her to put her trust and faith in his abilities.
How could she not after all they’d been through together?
She swallowed. “Okay.”
He shook his head, eyes still blazing. “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know that I’ll always come home to you.”
“I believe you.” And she did.
His abdominal muscles tensed as he curled up, his mouth claiming hers in a hard, greedy kiss, his tongue demanding entry. They fell back into the water together and Arabella froze as his shoulder was jostled and he grunted.
A hot spike of concern dragged her off him. “Shit, are you okay?”
He didn’t bother to answer her, his mouth a grim line as his gaze dropped to her breasts before returning to her face again. He thrust the loofah at her. “Finish what you started so I can get out of this filthy bath and love you properly.”
“But your shoulder,” Arabella protested.
“Screw my shoulder.”
A wave of dizzy need clenched Arabella’s abdominal muscles tight. He looked pretty damn serious. And she was sure they could figure it out. She reached for the soap.
“Marry me.”
She blinked, her heart practically stopping in her chest. “What?”
“I love you, Bella. And this is exactly where I belong. With you. Forever.”
Arabella’s chest expanded. It sounded so simple but nothing had ever felt so right. “Yes.”
Because she was exactly where she belonged. With him. Forever.
The End