Temptation in Texas: Logan and Lauren (2 page)

His hands tightened in her scalp and her eyes flew open. He could see it clearly, her arousal, the drugged look that had always fascinated him so much. He encircled her wrist in his hand, and locked it behind her back in a swift move that imprisoned her. "You like that, baby?"

"Yes." Her eyelids fluttered; she was barely able to hold them open.

He rewarded her answer, stroking into her, in and out, and in again. He stayed there, deep within her, and when her eyes closed completely, he dropped his lips to her ear and sank his teeth around her lobe. "You're mine," he said in an uncontrollable hiss. "That hasn't changed." He took another slamming stroke and then stilled again inside of her. "That will never change." He bit down on her flesh. "You understand me?
Never."

She shuddered and he felt the silk of her surrounding him as another rush of heat flowed from her body to ease his way. It calmed him, but only momentarily. He felt the aggression rise again in his blood and found himself challenging her, daring her to disagree with him. He lifted his head and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I'll destroy anybody who gets close to you. If anybody tries to fuck with you, in any goddamn way, I'll make them wish they were dead. You understand me, Lauren?"

"Yes."

Her ready agreement inflamed him and he began pounding at her, sliding into her body with hard, primitive thrusts. "I love you. I've always loved you, and nobody on the face of this earth will take you away from me."

"I know. I love you, too. Everything's okay, Logan, I promise. Nothing's wrong."

Logan barely retained enough sanity to realize that she knew he'd overheard her conversation. She was hiding something from him, she wasn't telling him something, and it almost killed him. But the love coming from her eyes was true and real, and for the moment, he let it soothe him, the ferocity in his blood cooling just a notch, and he was able to gentle his strokes enough that she relaxed in his arms. He could feel it when her arousal took over again and it was enough to send heated coils of pleasure down his spine.

His mouth came back to hers and he began kissing her in time with his strokes. God, he loved it when she was like this, soft and willing and so very, very hot. She mewled at the back of her throat, and he couldn't stop his hand when it slid between their bodies to land on her clit. He didn't want this to end too soon, but Jesus, he had to touch that spot.

She rained wet heat all the way to his knuckles, and he felt his balls tighten and knew his orgasm was imminent. God, not yet. She had to come first. He hammered faster, his fingers rough on her clit, and just when he thought he'd lose it first, she stiffened in his arms and her entire body clenched and he knew the wave was coming over her. She broke her mouth from his and took deep breaths as the tension, the ecstasy, consumed them both.

Logan came down slowly, the sweat from their bodies between them, and tightened his arms around her.

Yeah, so that was just the beginning of what he needed from her. If she wouldn't tell him what the hell was going on with her, there was only one thing he could do about it.

He had to get her out of here, away from whatever or whoever was putting that worried tone in her voice. Yeah, that was the answer. And if she didn't want to leave, didn't want to take a trip with him, then so what?

He could always kidnap her.

****

Later that night, Lauren crawled out from under the sheets as carefully as she could manage. It had taken Logan forever to fall asleep, and the arm that was always wrapped around her in bed seemed even tighter than usual.

Her husband was possessive, that was for sure. As she walked to the kitchen and found a bottle of ibuprofen, she found herself dwelling on the situation at hand. There was absolutely no doubt it was the reason for her tension headache.

She swallowed the pills and looked out of the kitchen window over her sink, and stared at the moon as it made a crescent in the dark of the night. From Logan's reaction, it was fairly damn obvious he'd overheard at least part of the conversation she'd had while she'd been in the closet. She hated that. He'd interpreted it entirely the wrong way, and now he was worried.

She didn't want him to worry, she really didn't. But she couldn't tell him yet. His sister had sworn her to secrecy, and Jillian had too much to deal with as it was. She didn't need an older brother who wouldn't hesitate to barge in and kick her husband's ass when he found out what the other guy had been up to.

Jillian had only recently moved back to Texas, and Lauren had feared for a long time that she'd never really become close to her sister-in-law. It had relieved her immensely that the younger woman was starting to open up to her. But now Jillian had opened up
too much.

And that left Lauren in an unenviable position. How much had Logan heard? Could he really for one second have thought that she was going behind his back and doing something to betray him? Something that would be detrimental to their marriage? She almost got angry at his lack of faith in her, but quickly put that aside when she realized that she
was,
for the most part, keeping something from him.

And that was wrong.

But what could she do? Jillian had begged her to give her a few more days, so Lauren pulled out her cell phone and texted her sister-in-law, telling her that she had the three days she'd wanted. After three days, she wouldn't keep this secret from Logan any longer. She hated secrets. And Logan was upset; she could tell. She could read him like a book. And she didn't blame him. She'd be upset if he were keeping something from her.

Why in the hell had Jillian told her? Why had she put her in the middle? Lauren was glad they were close, it was always a good thing to love and care for your husband's family. But crap, this was going too far. Knowing about Jillian's marital problems and not being able to tell Logan was ridiculous . . . and bad for her own marriage.

It put her in a horrible position. Just the memory of the pain and worry on his face was almost enough to send her into hysterics.
But God, worried sex was good sex.
It was always good between them,
always.
But the worry in his head had escalated his emotions, and he'd gone freaking caveman on her and they'd had a type of sex that they hadn't had in a long while. And it had been good. She wouldn't deny it. But not so good that she'd want him to suffer for even a minute longer than necessary.

Lauren put the phone aside as she closed her eyes and let the medication take effect. A memory of how it used to be washed over her. There had been times when the sex had always been like that. Before they were married. Before their relationship had been firmly established. She'd had a cutthroat job in corporate America and she'd had to deal with more men than she liked to think about. She'd had to travel with that job, and even though she hadn't enjoyed it, the money had been good, and she'd needed it. After she and Logan met and started dating, it hadn't taken long for him to realize that she had a life that hadn't included him. Her career was important to her, and she was good at what she did and garnered respect from a lot of people, women and men alike. She made a lot of friends with the women, and with the men . . . well, she got hit up on, more times than she could count.

Logan had hated her late nights, the business dinners, and the attention she'd received from not only her male co-workers, but her clients as well. But most of all, he hated it when she traveled.

His annoyance, his possessive personality, had never come across more so than when they were in bed together. He'd sink his hand into her hair and stare down into her eyes and tell her in a rough voice exactly how it was going to be between them. He'd tell her, as he pumped into her, what he would and wouldn't put up with, how she belonged to him and him alone, and just the memory of the way it had been between them sent a low sizzle of heat down her spine, even now.

How in the hell had she put up with his dominance, when she wasn't a 'roll over and lie down' type of woman, anyway? Because he had her addicted, that's how. No matter how much she berated herself for it, she found him hotly addictive when he went all macho on her. She loved the tone of his voice, she loved the way his fingers grasped her wrists, and she loved the way he pushed inside of her, taking her by storm and holding her hostage within the tight grasp of his arms.

Crap. Even six years later and with a tension headache, he still did it for her.

She registered footsteps coming up behind her only a second before his hand landed on her shoulder and he spun her around. "What are you doing in here?"

With the memories inundating her and his menacing form, covered only in boxer briefs, invading her personal space, she felt a hot, sweet ache begin to build in the pit of her stomach. Their gazes clashed and his nostrils flared as his hand reached out and encapsulated her wrist. His fingers wrapped hotly around her flesh and she knew without a shadow of doubt that she wouldn't be able to break free, even if she'd wanted to.
Oh yes!
This was
exactly
how it used to be.

He studied her for only a moment before snapping, "Answer me."

A molten river of heat bled through her veins at his tone and from the feel of his grasp on her skin. There were a few things that made his supreme arrogance, his punishing grip, and his harsh words acceptable to her. More than acceptable. Hot. Arousing. Awe- inducing, even six years after they'd started sleeping together. And those things were the gentle swirl of his thumb against her pulse point as he held her so tightly. The slight trace of vulnerability in his voice that told her that his entire happiness hinged on her answer. The way he was so obsessive about making sure she was safe. And the fact that he loved her, worshipped her even, heart, body, and soul.

Yeah, she'd do just about anything for him. She was crazy about him, and his over-the-top attitude, the way he was, did crazy things to her insides.

"I'm waiting, Lauren." His other hand sank into her hair and he pulled her body into his, flush against him, their torsos slamming together, aligned for a perfect match, with his superior height looming over her, dominating her where she stood.

Butterflies hit her stomach and she hoped the answer she was going to give him would be enough. "I have a headache. I needed to take some pills," she said as she indicated with a slight tilt of her head the bottle still sitting on the granite countertop.

"Are you okay?" His words were gentle, and his concern impacted her the way it always did. She was enticed by his love, mesmerized by the craving to keep her healthy and safe that he couldn't hide.

"Yes," she said simply.

His gaze became pointed. "Why do you have a headache?"

She looked away from him and focused on the refrigerator. "I don't know. It's just tension, I think."

"Yeah, I bet." His words held sarcasm, which she couldn't miss.

She took a quick breath and looked up at him again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're under stress, obviously. Because you're lying to me about something. I guess I ought to be damn glad you're feeling stress, because if you aren't, that means you're used to lying to me."

Lauren bit her lip and anxiety rushed through her. "Logan, don't."

"Don't what?" he asked with more than a trace of accusation.

"Don't start," she answered softly.

"Fine." His grip on her scalp intensified. "You want to do this tomorrow? I can wait. Come back to bed."

She hesitated only fractionally, but it was enough to set the predator off in him. His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth and his expression turned ferocious, an atavistic hunger encompassing his features. He reached down, and with one smooth stroke, boosted her by the hips and lifted her, wrapping her legs around him, and walked with her into the living room, the idea of going back to bed forgotten for the moment.

He reached the sofa and turned around and dropped down, carrying her with him, and she landed on top, straddled across him.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he pulled her face to his and took her with his mouth, his tongue sweeping inside and tasting her fully. He kissed her relentlessly, and with one hand kneading her back, he continued to push into her, his tongue mimicking the act of sex. She fell into the kiss, moaning softly.