Temptation in Texas: A Christmas Special

A Short Story

****

Lynda Chance

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Warning: This is a short interlude in the lives of
Logan and Lauren; it could even be called an excuse from some hot,
alpha-male sex. This story has a satisfying ending; it can be read
alone or with ‘Pursuit’ and/or ‘Temptation in Texas: Logan and
Lauren’.

****

When Logan Crenshaw gets home from a business trip
and finds his wife compromising her safety, a flip switches within
and his temper goes off the Richter scale.

****

Temptation in Texas:

A Logan and Lauren Christmas Special

Copyright 2014 Lynda Chance

****

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the
express written permission of the author or publisher except for
the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses,
characters and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely
coincidental.

****

For everyone who asked for more of Logan and Lauren
:)

****

Time period: Six or so years after marriage, but
before kids, because who wants to think of children right now?

****

Logan Crenshaw stepped from the shower stall in yet
another nondescript hotel room in Dallas, Texas. He’d always hated
traveling, but now, being separated from Lauren made leaving home
harder than ever.

Literally.

He glanced down at his raging boner. Thank fuck his
business had finished up late last night and he could go home a day
early. He
needed
to get home . . .
needed
to get his
fix.
His Lauren fix.

He
hated
jacking-off. Jacking-off was for
boys, or for men who didn’t have a woman like the one he had at
home. A woman who wasn’t merely accommodating to his needs, but one
who seemed to need him as much as a crack-addict needed her next
hit . . . almost as much as he needed her.

Yeah, he’d done a damn fine job when he’d wrangled
her little ass to the altar. His wife was the
epitome of
perfection
.

His cock jumped and pulsed at the vision of her naked
and spread-eagled on his bed, just waiting for him to get home.

Down, boy
. Just calm the fuck down. His girl
would be there when he got home in approximately five hours and
then he could do what he did best:

Lift her up against the wall, wrap her legs around
his hips.

Pull her skirt up and push her panties aside.

Open his pants and touch her clit, make sure she’s
wet and ready.

And then plunge inside. Heaven. His naked cock, her
naked, wet, wanting pussy…

A drop of sweat beaded on his brow. He needed to fuck
her like he needed air to breathe. It had been that way since the
first moment he’d seen her, and the feeling wasn’t going away, not
a damn bit. In fact, it was probably getting worse. He took a deep
breath and blew it out. Shit, it
was
getting worse.

He’d always had these wild, fucked-up feelings for
Lauren. It was strange really, because before he’d met her, he’d
never in a million years thought he could have felt this way about
any woman. But with Lauren? From the very beginning, he’d
experienced what seemed to be a testosterone-driven compulsion to
keep her safe. He needed her safe, wanted to protect her from
everything bad the world held. It had been that way from the first
moment he’d laid eyes on her.

And soon after, when they’d started seeing each
other, his dormant aggression had really exploded. He’d become
possessive within hours, jealous within days, territorial within a
week. He’d thought for a long while that he’d possibly even lost
his sanity . . . but then he’d realized: he was fucking
in love
with her
. Obsessively, aggressively, crazily . . . exclusively
in love with her. He’d known in a heartbeat he’d do anything for
her, do anything to protect her, slay any beast for her.

He admitted, he’d probably gone somewhat off the
rails those first few months, thinking she might slip from his
fingers. He remembered the sheer, unmitigated frustration of a
conqueror unable to best an opponent. But finally, he’d nailed her
down and nailed her down good. In between nailing her? Somehow, God
knows how, he’d gone for the gold and achieved it; he’d maneuvered
her into marriage.

Even now, years later, his lips twisted in triumph at
the memory.

She’d thought it had been romantic, the wedding of
her dreams . . . he’d thought it had been ingenious, the coup of
his lifetime.

Even after all this time, she had no idea what a
sick, jealous bastard he was. Oh, she knew he was jealous . . . she
just didn’t know
how
insane he was with it. It was a goddamn
miracle he wasn’t locked-up in prison somewhere. Well, he hadn’t
killed anybody . . . yet. But it had come damn close a few
times.

Simple things set him off. They’d be walking through
a mall parking lot with her hand caught and held in his, just like
it always was, and he’d see some guy looking at her just a little
too long. He’d feel tension rise in his bloodstream, his muscles
would tighten, a pounding would begin in his head . . . but then
she’d stop in her tracks and choose that
exact
moment to
slip her arms around his waist, raise her beautiful face to his,
stand on tiptoe and kiss him. She never seemed to care if there
were other people around.
If was almost as if she knew
. . .
a soft look that never failed to entrance him would come over her
features, she’d tip her head back, her eyes would lock on his,
mesmerizing him, and then her lips would be on his. His brain would
momentarily split in two, his cock would engorge, he’d taste the
blissful promise on her lips and every other thought inside his
head would disappear from his brain.

And when he’d surface from her kiss, whatever guy had
pissed him off would be long gone, and she’d tug on his hand,
smiling her serene little smile while she pulled him to wherever
they’d been going in the first place.

Shit like that happened all the time.

And since it was his red-hot jealousy that made him
snap, it never happened when she wasn’t with him. He only had to
worry about losing control when she was in his vicinity.

And there lay his biggest problem; he was only truly
happy when she was with him, so he had to keep his jealousy in
check, control his obsessive feelings. All the
fucking
time.

And that was difficult to do. Because just the
thought of some motherfucker even thinking about touching her was
enough to make him want to commit cold-blooded murder.

He continued to put his clothes on with more
expeditious motions. He couldn’t get home soon enough.

****

Lauren glanced at her watch, a coil of both tension
and excitement running down her spine. Eleven o-clock in the
morning, straight up. Could she keep this project a secret from
Logan? She had, by her estimation, less than twenty-four hours
before he’d be home from Dallas. Surely that would be enough time
to meet with the last contractor, let him take measurements, give
her some quick thoughts on his ideas to see if they meshed with
hers.

She should have planned this project a month earlier,
but damn, the holiday season had snuck up on her this year. She’d
bought presents for both her family and his, wrapped them and
shipped them ahead of time. The entire week she’d been shopping,
the entire month before that even, she hadn’t been able to come up
with a single thing that Logan might want. Oh sure, she’d bought
him a bunch of silly things, along with socks and ties and whatnot.
But she couldn’t come up with that one amazing present she needed
to make his Christmas perfect. And it had been driving her
batty!

But then, finally, inspiration had struck when she
she’d been up in the attic rummaging through the Christmas
decorations. Immediately, she’d called several contracting
companies, and the man who was coming in a few minutes would give
her the last estimate, and then all she’d have to do was choose the
company she wanted and the work would begin.

Seriously, this was going to be the best freaking
present she’d ever given Logan!

****

Logan pulled into his Houston area neighborhood at
eleven-forty-five . . . less than four hours from Dallas, not damn
bad. For him, it was always faster to drive than to catch a flight.
By the time he found parking at the airport, went through security
and finally boarded, he could have been halfway to Dallas County.
Besides, he enjoyed driving more than flying. He liked to be in
control of the vehicle, in control of the situation around him.
Flying took that away from him, so he only took flights when the
distance was too extreme to drive.

As he drove down the street and visualized the
pleasure he’d see in Lauren’s eyes when he walked in a full day
early, a sizzle of heat rolled through his gut and landed with an
impact in his groin. Sexual anticipation raced through his blood as
his fists tightened on the steering wheel.

But when his house came into sight, an unfamiliar
dark grey SUV sat in the driveway, blocking his usual space in
front of the garage door. With a slight frown of unease, he parked
behind Lauren’s car and instead of walking in through the back
door, which was his norm, he went up the path to the front door and
twisted the handle.

It was locked. Sudden nerves shot up his spine and
quelled any residual desire he’d been feeling. Using his key, he
opened the door and walked inside the quiet house.

Calling Lauren’s name and getting no answer, his
nerves quickly escalated into a cold sweat. Since there was an
unknown car in the driveway, as well as Lauren’s vehicle, she
should have been right there, in the living room or the kitchen
area, the places where they entertained.

Quickly glancing around, his eyes fell to the sofa
and the sight of her purse, on its side, with her wallet and
checkbook lying on the floor, had fear grabbing him by the throat.
Her cell phone, half under the sofa, pierced him with a cold blade
of terror as sheer, black fear for her safety coursed like ice
through his veins. She never went
anywhere
without that cell
phone.

Forcing himself to retain his sanity and not let the
panic he was feeling immobilize him, he pushed through the main
rooms one at a time. He glanced out the back windows to the
swimming pool area, but the yard seemed deserted as well. As he
heard a noise coming from the attic, stark fear for her safety
grabbed his heart and viciously squeezed. Fear congealed in his
stomach like a lead weight as he walked to the hallway with four
quick strides. The attic ladder was down, and in two seconds flat,
he was pushing his way to the floor above.

The bare bulb hanging from the rafters was glowing,
the area fairly well lit, but at first glance, he didn’t see
anyone. The area was huge, encompassing the entire space above
their ranch style house. He knew he’d heard a noise earlier, and
now, fisting his hands at his sides, he heard another and swung
around to confront it. When he first realized that his wife was
safe, his initial emotion was overwhelming relief, but coming
swiftly on its heels was a raw stroke of anger. Not quite believing
what he was seeing, and certainly not understanding it, he stared
at Lauren, lying flat on her stomach, facing away from him, with a
man beside her, who lay flat on his stomach as well. They weren’t
touching, but they were side-by-
fucking
-side, sequestered
way back under the eaves, and Logan felt his temper ignite and
explode, the stark fear he’d felt only moments before fueling his
temper into the stratosphere.
“What the fuck’s going
on?”

At his bark, he was gratified to see Lauren jump and
then turn, wriggling from her spot and moving to her feet as
quickly as possible. “Logan,” she said, out of breath, as the man
beside her pushed back from the angled space a bit more leisurely
and then came to his feet beside her.

The man wore sturdy work boots and held a flashlight,
but Logan wasn’t in any mood to be appeased by the sight. He wanted
the guy out of his house,
now;
he didn’t give a shit what
might need to be repaired. “You want to explain to me why the fuck
you’re in my attic, on the floor,
with my wife?”