Willow Spring (16 page)

“The bra thing? How does that come off?”

“There are hooks in the back. A lot of them,” she warned.

He stepped around behind her, and seeing what she meant, said, “Good thing I’m a patient man.”

Whereas Amy was now caught in a struggle between patience—as in fresh nervousness—and urgency. So she simply stood there, trying her best to breathe normally as Logan’s fingers toiled with the row of hooks, the strapless bra loosening around her bit by bit.

Finally she could tell only a few hooks remained fastened, and then those were undone, too, and she knew Logan was still holding it around her with his hands, perhaps letting them both prepare for what came next.

As he released his hold on the boned fabric, Amy looked down, watched the bra fall away from her, watched her breasts be bared beneath the stars. A soft breeze blew past just then, causing her nipples to pucker even further than they already had beneath Logan’s enticing touches. And then, his voice lower in timbre than she’d ever heard it before, he said, “Turn around, Amy. Let me see.”

Despite the return of shyness, Amy made the move to face him in the moonlight. She heard the soft gurgling of Sugar Creek in the distance and the ragged sound of her own breathing. Logan’s eyes burned on her.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he finally said, “but I couldn’t have imagined how beautiful you would look like this. Undressed.”

She sucked in her breath as her nipples grew still tighter beneath his gaze. “I don’t take it the wrong way. I take it in a good way.”

“Good. Because you are. Beautiful. And I . . . . just never knew.”

“I wish I had on different panties,” she heard herself admit.

But he only laughed and said, “I don’t. These are perfect.” Then he held out a hand to her and said, “Let me kiss you some more.”

Feeling, for the first time in her life, as beautiful as he’d just said, Amy went willingly back into his arms. Only of course it was different this time because she was mostly naked. Her bare breasts met with the firm wall of his chest as his arms enclosed her.

As their kisses became even deeper, more filled with the desire that threatened to consume Amy now, Logan situated his body in such a way that—oh, oh God—the hardness between his legs pressed rigidly into the soft flesh of her belly, at the front of her panties. Mmm . . . ohhh . . . yes. And if the crux of her thighs had been hungry and achy before . . . well, now it was almost the greatest part of her. The need was colossal, overwhelming. She found herself moving against him, longing to feel that hardness a little lower, where she needed it most.

Their breathing came heavy again, audible, and Logan murmured, “Let’s lie down.”

Amy said nothing, only went willingly as they both eased onto the quilt until she lay on her back peering up into his eyes while light fingertips caressed her tummy. His kisses returned, but they touched her lips only briefly before drifting downward—first onto the tender skin of her neck, and then lower, lower. Her breath came in heated sighs as Logan kissed his way slowly down her chest and onto one sensitive breast.

Her hands curled into his hair as he raked his tongue delicately across the taut, pointed peak, and she could have sworn some invisible string stretched directly from there to the needy spot in her panties. She moaned as he closed his mouth over the beaded nipple; her eyes fell shut and she knew a near bliss she’d never experienced.

She had no idea how long he laved and kissed her breasts, moving back and forth between them, leaving whichever one was unattended to tingle beneath a breeze that grew slightly cooler as the night grew later. And as he finally began to kiss his way down onto her stomach, the muscles within contracted sharply, and he smiled up at her, clearly having felt it, too. “Try to relax, freckles,” he told her.

“I am. Mostly.” Though she wasn’t sure if it was the truth or a lie. She’d begun to grow comfortable with him, with this, what they were doing—but some tension remained since she knew they were headed someplace she’d never been before. And besides, it was hard to relax when . . . “It just feels so nice,” she confessed in a heated whisper.

“Good,” he murmured. “I’m glad to hear that.”

And then . . . oh Lord, as he rained delicate kisses across her torso, he eased his fingers into her panties and she bit her lip and held her breath until they sank into the moist crevices within, making her let out a soft cry of pleasure.

“That good?” he stopped to ask.

“Uh huh,” she said. Only that. Maybe other girls he’d been with weren’t quite as sensitive or responsive. Since, of course, other girls he’d been with weren’t still virgins.

And as she moved against his touch, it occurred to her that it was so right for her to be sharing this with Logan. Logan who had known her forever. Logan who had always been there for her. Logan who cared about her. And even if nothing more ever came between them after this night, this was . . . perfect.

Amy shut her eyes, shut out the twinkling stars above, shut out the sounds of crickets in the trees, and simply gave herself over to the sensations Logan delivered. Her desire rose, higher and higher, until her fingernails clawed at the quilt on either side of her, until she’d made fists around handfuls of old fabric, and until—oh God, yes!—she was sobbing her ecstasy as the orgasm washed over her. It covered her thick and hot, taking her to a place where nothing mattered but the release and the pleasure. And, well, Logan. Even now, she was deeply, fully aware that he was the one who’d taken her to such delicious and unfathomable heights.

When finally she came back to herself, she opened her eyes, found Logan hovering above her, peering back down at her. “You’re pretty damn beautiful right now, Amy. And I’m glad this is happening. I’m glad you told me. Something about this is . . . easier than I ever could have predicted. Something about this just feels . . . right.”

Right
. Just as she’d been thinking herself. He felt it, too. She smiled up at him, then even curled her arms around his neck and drew him down for another intoxicating kiss.

And then one kiss turned into another, and another, and it struck her that being nearly naked with him already felt natural now, almost miraculously so, and when—mmm, yes—what lay between his legs hardened further against her hip, she wanted more.

And she wasn’t afraid any longer. She needed this as badly as she needed to draw air into her lungs. And this was Logan, and her dream was coming true, so she didn’t hesitate to tell him again what she’d told him earlier. “I want you, Logan.” After which she went one better—without even remembering or weighing it, she said the words she’d written in her last love note. “I want you inside me.”

Twelve

I give myself joy of this.

Jane Austen, from
Emma

L
ogan let out a hot breath at her words. She’d excited him by saying it. And she’d never imagined she could feel as truly sexy as she did right now.

He answered with another heated tongue kiss, this one firm and full of intention.

And he carried that intention further by beginning to ease down her panties.

She lifted to let him and felt them slipping away, felt the thrill of becoming even more naked for him, with him.

And then she followed the instinct to reach for his waistband—only then paused, whispering, “Oh God.”

“What?” He sounded worried.

She lowered her gaze to say, “I guess I’m just . . . shy about this part. Undressing you.”

He arched one eyebrow, his look playful. “You didn’t seem shy about it a little while ago.”

Which made her bite her lip, and unfortunately, get a little more specific. “Well . . . about undressing
this
part of you.”

He flashed a conciliatory grin. “No worries, freckles. I’ll handle it.” Then he reached for his zipper, but stopped to glance back at her. “If you’re sure you’re ready.”

So, so ready
. But she only answered with a nod.

She tried not to seem intensely interested in watching him take off his pants, but her gaze drifted down into the shadows between them a few times without her consent. Her breath grew shallow as she waited, and she knew when the pants were gone, knew when he was putting on a condom, knew when there was nothing else to keep their bodies apart.

He said nothing more, just angled his body over hers to resume kissing her, caressing her. His warm hand moved over her breast, down across her stomach, onto her hip. At her other hip, his erection pushed insistently.

Without ever actually deciding to do so, she found herself parting her legs beneath him, sliding herself under him to draw him between her thighs. It wasn’t about being consciously aggressive—she didn’t know
how
to be aggressive—it was just about her body’s instincts; it was about primal needs bubbling hotter and higher than she’d even known they could.

Silently, Logan positioned himself, using his hands to spread her thighs further, and she experienced the distinct power of opening herself to him, welcoming him, in a way she’d never opened herself to a man before. And nothing in her life had ever felt quite so amazingly right.

She pulled in a deep breath when the pressure began, her arms wrapped snugly around his broad shoulders as the scent of him, the nearness of him, permeated her senses. She shut her eyes, clenched her teeth slightly, and waited.

As he tried to penetrate her, a soft soreness spread there, and she heard his labored breath grow even more so—maybe with frustration. She could almost read his thoughts.
Why isn’t this working more easily?
Suffering the sudden, momentary fear that he would give up, stop, she pushed herself against him.

Then he thrust inward—hard—and Amy suffered a short, jagged burst of pain, followed by an impossible tightness inside her. She hugged him with all the strength she possessed, clinging to him. Only she didn’t dwell on the pain—because Logan had just set her free. Finally. And she’d never felt closer to him.

That was when he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his filled with uncertainty as he whispered, “Amy . . . are you a . . . ?”

She let out the breath she’d been holding, getting more comfortable with how he felt in her. “I . . . I was,” she admitted. “But not anymore. Thank God!” Then she even let out a small laugh.

He just blinked, continuing to peer down at her, looking dumbfounded. “But . . . how? I mean, there was that one guy . . .”

Amy hadn’t ever thought about this moment, about having to confirm and explain, but she just shook her head and whispered, “Never happened.”

“So . . . I’m the first one?”

She thought they’d already established that, but she guessed he was still shocked. She simply gave a soft nod.

And he let out a breathy sort of, “Wow,” that told her he wasn’t wowing the amazing fact that she was still a virgin, but the fact that she’d chosen
him
to change that.

“It . . . it only makes sense that it’s you,” she said on a whisper.
Because we’ve known each other our whole lives and you’ve always been one of my very best friends.
That was the unspoken part she knew he heard anyway.
And because I love you.
That part, though, felt a little more secret.

“I wanna make this so special for you,” he told her then.

And she bit her lip and spoke the simple truth. “You already are.”

After that, he lowered his mouth to hers, and he began to slowly, cautiously move inside her—and all talking ceased.

She sensed him being careful, and she appreciated that because she needed it. One more reason why it was so perfect that this was Logan and not anyone else, not some arbitrary man she might have met or dated for a little while but who didn’t really care about her in a deep way. Amy had always believed things happened for a reason, but she’d never understood why or thought it fair that she’d had to wait so long to be intimate with a guy. Yet now she knew God, or destiny, had been leading her, slowly but surely, to this one perfect moment in time.

Logan’s soft drives into her newly-breached flesh hurt a little, but she knew he was being as gentle as he could, and even amid the discomfort, she took pleasure from the utter closeness she shared with him right now. She continued to cling to him, maybe too tightly, but she knew he understood.

As his kisses dropped to her neck, she peered up at the millions of stars overhead and experienced that feeling of being small—but in the good way, in the way of knowing there was nowhere else in the whole cosmos she’d rather be right now than where she was, in the Farris-Romo Family Apple Orchard, making love with Logan Whitaker.

Somewhere along the way her pain dissipated, giving way to at first a subtle, gentle pleasure, and then one that filled her deeper, more thoroughly, beginning to stretch all through her.

Oh! This . . . this was it. This, she understood already, was the good part. Though she was sure there were plenty of other good parts, too, this was the “wow” part that made Rachel and Tessa sigh in that lost-looking way when they talked about sex.

Out of pure happiness, as Amy absorbed Logan’s every sexy thrust into her body, she held to him still more snugly. And then she began to thrust back. She heard both of them breathing harder, felt the connection with him deepen. Her legs wrapped around his without planning and a soft groan echoed from his throat as he planted his hands on her hips and plunged a little deeper, rougher.

Amy cried out at the power and heat he delivered and found herself kissing his cheek, pulling him close, and—oh, oh God—then she started to cry. It made her angry at herself, especially when he pulled back, appearing slightly alarmed, to say, “What? What’s wrong?”

She could only shake her head as she tried to summon words. “Nothing. Not sad tears. Happy ones.”
I just feel so close to you right now.
But she couldn’t tell him that—it just seemed too . . . well, like she’d already done enough of that tonight, and despite the perfection of this moment, she didn’t want to overdo that stuff. “Just can’t believe this is finally happening,” she told him, which was just as true. “I’d begun to think it never would.”

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry you ever had to think that.” Then he flashed a soft, teasing grin. “You should’ve come to me with this sooner.”

Tears gone, the offer made her emit a light giggle, but then she told him, “I didn’t know until recently that I wanted it to be you.” Then she bit her lip, gazed up into his pretty eyes, and felt the pure magic of the night rolling all through her again. “And I’m so
glad
it’s you.”

“Me, too,” he whispered, brushing a few stray bangs from her eyes. “I couldn’t have imagined that before tonight, but me, too.” Then he tilted his head, peered down at her. “So . . . it’s okay? Doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Another nod. “A little at first, but now . . .”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now?”

“I love it.”

“Aw, baby,” he murmured deeply, and fresh desire flared in her at the very point where their bodies connected, and she automatically lifted her pelvis, thrusting upward. Which made him let out a small growl. And made her smile.

As they continued moving together, Amy shut her eyes and sank back into it—without crying this time, and just basking in the wonder of it.
I get it. I finally get it. I finally get what’s so incredible about this.

And soon they were both moaning as Logan’s plunges into her body increased in intensity, and Amy thought she could do this with him forever and ever—but that was when he said, “Aw, honey, I’m gonna come.” And the next thing she knew, the hands at her hips gripped her tighter, and his drives into her came harder, wilder, and she loved knowing she’d taken him there.

Like earlier, upon going still, he touched his forehead to hers—and then he kissed her.

And once more she suffered the heartwrenching urge to say
I love you,
but she literally bit her tongue to stop herself. Because this had all happened so fast—well, fast in ways—and she didn’t know where it would lead or what would happen tomorrow, and again, she’d already put enough of her emotions out there tonight. And, of course, she longed for
him
to say those three little words, but when he didn’t, it made up for it a lot when he instead told her, “You’re so beautiful, Amy. And this was so special.” She even lifted another kiss to his mouth in reply.

And she realized there would indeed be no promises, or talk of the future—that tonight, on this quilt next to Sugar Creek, it was just about dealing with the intimacy of the moment. And that was okay.

After he’d shed the condom, Logan flipped one side of the quilt over them since the night had finally started turning chilly. Amy rested her head on his chest and he held her in a loose embrace, and they lay silently that way a few minutes before he asked her, “When did you start . . . feeling this way?”

She wasn’t dying to discuss all that, especially not knowing where they would stand in the morning, but she figured it was a fair question. And besides . . . maybe he would just love her back. Maybe it would be simple from this point forward. “After that day at your house last month, the day you kissed me.”

He tipped his head back, clearly well aware it had happened—which was a relief. They’d never talked about it after she’d left, and he
had
been drinking at the time, so she hadn’t been sure he’d clearly remember it. “I felt . . . so weird about that. Like I didn’t give you any choice in the matter.”

“You didn’t really,” she said with an understanding shrug, “but it was you, so it was easy enough to forgive. Especially when I realized . . . that I didn’t mind it so much.”

He grinned down at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked it?”

She rolled her eyes.
Let me count the reasons.
“Well, you acted like it was the most unthinkable thing that ever could have happened. So I didn’t think
you
liked it much.”

He leaned his head to one side on the quilt. “I liked it fine. I was just . . . freaked out. And, well, you know I wasn’t exactly myself back then.”

She spoke softer now, rising up, propped on one elbow, to peer down into his eyes. “About the, uh, fire . . . are you good now? Fine?”

Logan gazed up at Amy, his lifelong friend, now his lover, and the sweetest girl in the world. The truth was, he’d been doing everything in his power lately not to think about the reasons he’d been in such a funk after that fire. He supposed that over the last few weeks he’d gotten pretty good at finding distractions, things that kept his mood up, his thoughts occupied with better things. And hell, there’d been plenty going on in Destiny to help with that: Anna’s return and their subsequent connection, Mike’s wedding, love notes from a secret admirer—and tonight, finding out the notes had come from his freckles and the fact that no matter what happened now, it would pretty much change their relationship forever.

So yeah, he’d found plenty of easy walls to put up between him and that night, him and those awful memories. But now that Amy had brought it back with that one simple question, he had to ask himself: Was he really doing all that much better if he was only pushing it away every time it came to mind? He’d
thought
he was doing better—he’d
made himself
do better. But if it still gouged at his soul as sharply as he felt it right this minute, was he really doing all that well or was it just a head game he played with himself?

“You’re not answering,” she said then, her strawberry blond curls—a few of which had come loose from her fancy hairdo—tickling his chest. And she sounded worried.

His instant urge was to put her at ease—because that was his urge with
everybody
lately. He was embarrassed, even ashamed, of how low he’d gotten after the fire, and now he just wanted people to forget that and think everything was fine. And so he almost went into an explanation of just how fine he was, how that was all water under the bridge—but then he remembered: This was Amy. And he felt closer to her right now than ever, and if he could tell anyone the real truth, it was her.