––––––––
I stared into the mirror, barely able to recognize myself. I wore a deep plum cocktail dress with heels and earrings, my dark hair piled high. I looked like a doll.
It took ten minutes for me to change. I whipped through my drawers, settling on the silk camisole I’d worn twice now and some black jeans. I pulled my hair back out, letting it fall in loose waves over my shoulders.
There. I looked like myself, the very best version.
“Ooh,” Gia breathed when I stepped into the living room.
Xander rose from his position on the floor. Pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were scattered in a halo around him. “Mom, you look so pretty.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said.
Gia propped herself up on her elbows. “Will it be a late night?” She winked when Xander wasn’t looking.
“Shouldn’t be,” I said, color rising to my cheeks.
“Well, just let me know.”
I went through a whole flurry of emotions when I heard the first rumble of the motorcycle pulling up in front of the house: excitement, anxiety, fear. I gave Xander one last hug and begged them not to watch me through the window as I left, which was exactly what they did.
Logan was dressed in his usual, but I noticed that his hair was combed back and he’d shaved. He smiled and waved at the two faces in the window as I made my way toward him. Then, his eyes fell on me and lit up with recognition.
“Hey, I remember that shirt...”
I batted at his shoulder. “Hurry, let’s get out of here,” I said.
Logan placed the helmet on my head and strapped it under my chin. I climbed on the back of his bike and turned to the window for the last time. I could see my reflection in the glass as I waved, hovering somewhere between nervous and gleeful. My coloring was vivid and healthy. It was a good look on me.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, we came to a stop at the Skull Kings clubhouse. I raised my eyebrows at Logan as he helped me off of the bike.
“We’re eating dinner here?”
“Don’t look so scared. I ordered in from a great Italian place.”
It was eerie seeing the lot so empty and the grill shut away. Then, Logan stopped to take my hand, and my heart performed a somersault.
“Sorry,” he said, seeing the tension in my face. “Was that too soon?”
I shook my head.
Encouraged, he tightened his hold and led me to the doors of the clubhouse. When he opened them, I expected something to be different, but I discovered everything was exactly the same...
Except for a picnic blanket on the middle of the floor. The lights were turned low, and additional illumination came from some candles flickering on the bar.
“It’s not exactly five-star dining. I tried to be creative. I thought you’d like something a little different,” Logan said, sounding a little flustered.
I squeezed his hand. “It’s great. Really.”
We shared an awkward smile. For a moment, I thought we were going to kiss but it never came.
Logan cleared his throat. “Shall we?”
I settled myself on the floor, suddenly glad that I’d ditched the cocktail attire for something more casual. Logan sat on his knees and uncorked a chilling bottle of white wine. I studied our surroundings awkwardly as he poured my glass.
“So, what’s going to happen with your case now that Alan is moving out of town?” I asked, immediately regretting it afterward.
Logan faltered before he was able to answer. “Um, well I’m supposed to finish a bunch of paperwork on that, and it’s going to take a few weeks. But they’re taking me off of the case at the moment.”
I felt my stomach sink. His empty ranch house flashed through my mind. I took a swig of wine. “And what’s going to happen after that?”
“I requested a transfer to the regional office in Phoenix. It’ll probably be granted. I was thinking about getting a place down there.” He lowered his eyes. “Unless there was a very compelling reason for me to stay in Canyon City, of course. I’d commute if that was the case.”
I avoided his gaze, but I could almost feel it burning in to me. Unless there was a very compelling reason for me to stay, his voice echoed in my mind. He was talking about me.
“Enough work talk. Let’s eat,” Logan said suddenly.
He began unwrapping packages of food he pulled out of a picnic basket. When he said Italian, I’d imagined pasta with meatballs. Instead, he doled out an antipasto plate of gleaming prosciutto and fat olives, crusty bread, and an heirloom tomato salad with thick slices as big as my face. There was a theme here, and I identified it right away: finger foods. It was easy enough to figure out from the lack of plasticware.
My heart beat faster as I thought about hand-feeding Logan a piece of oil-soaked bread. I watched as he rolled an olive and some cheese inside of a slice of prosciutto. He hovered it in front of my mouth. “Ladies first.”
I finished it in two bites. His thumb brushed against my lip and I suppressed a shudder, wondering if the intimate touch had been on purpose.
“My turn?” he said hopefully. Then, he opened his mouth so wide I could see his fillings.
I laughed, and just like that, the tension broke. I snorted wine up my nose when Logan tried to feed me an olive speared onto his finger. But he was sweet, too, asking if I wanted anything salted, topping off my wine, and swiping at stray crumbs falling into my lap. As we joked and ate, it was almost like the past few weeks hadn’t even happened.
It was like that night at Amazon, when I drank too much and was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him.
“Can we start over?” I asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“We didn’t have a very great start. The whole mess with Lisbeth got in the way of things. But that’s over now.”
Logan nodded. “True.” A slow grin spread over his face. “Okay. To new beginnings.”
I raised my glass against his. “To new beginnings.”
“We’ll go as slow as you want, Car. But just so you know, I can put you and Xander on my health insurance if we have the same address—”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
I smiled. “We’ll get to that in a few months. Maybe.”
“Then, what are we supposed to do tonight?”
I leaned in. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Taking my cue, Logan drew close and pressed his lips against mine. It was just a small peck, a tiny seed that eventually bloomed into a deeper kiss. His hands crawled up my thighs to my hips, and my arms wrapped themselves around his neck. I could taste the traces of our salty, vinegary dinner on his tongue as it danced between my teeth.
“I need you, Car,” he whispered.
I needed him, too.
I lowered myself onto my back. Logan’s mouth moved from my lips to my chin, down my neck, and breathed into my cleavage. He kneaded my breasts through the silk of my camisole and the thin lacy cup of my bra. I reached up and pulled both layers down, exposing my hard nipples. Logan groaned immediately, and his mouth descended down to me, licking and nibbling and sucking.
A bulge hardened inside of his jeans, bumping into my thigh. I drew my legs apart and his hips sank in. My breaths grew shallower as I rubbed myself on him, driving both of us crazy.
Logan pulled away quickly. He took off his shirt, flashing that tight, flat abdomen of his. I ran my fingers over his ribs, his flat nipples, touching his tattoos. I saw them in a new light now. He’d collected them over the years as he worked undercover. They branded him. They were part of him. He glanced down at himself, noticing my stare.
“I got a little too deep undercover,” he said. He grabbed my hand and pulled it over his left pectoral, right above his heart. “I didn’t know where my job ended and my life began, but this. This is real, right here.”
We kissed again, feverishly. His hands slid up my stomach, around my back, and unhooked my bra. I picked myself up so he could slip everything off over my head. I worked on his belt in the meantime and reached inside his jeans once I got the zipper down. My hand wrapped around his shaft, and I felt a twitch of desire in my belly.
Logan rubbed my jeans just between my legs, putting pressure on my clit. “Think you’re ready for me, baby? Are you wet?”
“Yes!”
We both kicked off our jeans and underwear. Logan rolled on the condom he’d had in his pocket. Within ten seconds, he was back in position between my thighs, his fingers touched to my pussy. He held his tongue between his teeth as he slipped an index finger inside.
I gasped.
Logan removed his wet finger and drew a circle around my clit. Meanwhile, my heart pounded in my ears.
“Logan, please.”
He pulled himself close to me. His cock dangled tantalizingly in front of my channel, close enough to give it a kiss. Then, he plunged it in.
I screamed and dug my nails into Logan’s back. My walls strained around his hardness. He picked up his rhythm, thrusting hard and fast. His groans were clipped and guttural in my ear.
“Carmen!” he gasped.
I held him as he rocked my body. His hips cut into my thighs and his cock pounded into my pussy, but each blow was like taking a hit of ecstasy. Pleasure bloomed from my pelvis out to my fingertips and back, licking along my skin like a cold tongue. And the force of Logan’s thrusts reminded me that he was here, that we were doing this together.
I pulled my fingers through his hair. I could do this forever. I let my voice rise above his.
“Logan,” I’d whispered. I pulled his head close and licked the edge of his ear. My Logan. “I want you to come in my pussy.”
“Oh, god,” he said.
His back seized up under my hands. My arms were still around him as he came in stiff, jerking waves. A thin sheen of sweat formed on his skin, and I could taste it on my lips.
He struggled to hold himself up. He panted heavily as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m so sorry, Carmen. It’s just been so long.”
I blew air onto his shoulders. He shivered.
“That’s okay.” I pushed the damp hair off of his forehead. “You can make it up to me later.”
Logan grinned as he gazed down at me. He touched the tip of his nose to mine. “Then, how about some dessert?”
Please don’t let that be a euphemism. “What’s for dessert?”
“Chocolate mousse.”
Perfect.