She wanted to tell him it was more than good, but then his hands were cupping her breasts and she nearly went out of her mind. The pregnancy had made them so hypersensitive that when his thumbs flicked over her nipples she thought she might explode right then and there. Her head lolled to the side, a helpless whimper escaping her lips. And then she realized the bathroom window was still open, the shade at half-mast so that anyone walking by on the sidewalk below could look up and be treated to an X-rated scene.
“Logan, the curtain,” she said desperately, unable to reach it herself.
“The hell with the curtain,” he grumbled, picking her up in his arms and carrying her back into the bedroom. He laid her in the middle of the bed. Light streamed down over her body, kissing it in golden rays.
“This curtain is open too,” she reminded him, a smile playing at her lips.
With a growl of frustration, he reached back and yanked the drapery down over the window. Then, in one fluid motion, he was on the bed beside her. They met in a heated kiss and her hands tangled in his shirt, yanking it from his waistband and pulling it up over his head. Finally her eager hands were free to explore the muscled wall of his chest, his lean stomach, the hard, smooth strength of his back.
“Oh God, Claire, I want you,” he groaned against her mouth.
His fingers worked the zipper of her skirt before shimmying it down over her thighs. She freed a hand briefly to help him remove the skirt, then turned her attention to his pants. Clothing was an unwanted, annoying barrier at this point. She wanted to feel only Logan’s scorching skin against hers.
In moments, he had shucked his pants and was in the process of removing her bra. His hands found the clasp at her back, unhooking it one closure at a time while he lavished the exposed tops of her breasts with his tongue. As the hook gave way, she watched as he pulled the lacy cups down her breasts ever so slightly, centimeter by torturous centimeter, further stimulating her skin with the soft abrasion. Finally unable to stand any more, she tore her bra away herself, eliciting a hoarse bark of laughter from Logan.
“Eager, sweetheart?”
Eager didn’t even begin to describe what she was feeling. She framed his face, pulling his lips to hers for another deep, hungry kiss. “Make love to me.”
His tongue forayed into her mouth and stroked hers before he pulled away again, looking down at her. His gaze rested on her breasts, watching as he palmed them and rolled her nipples with his thumbs. She thought again of how ungainly her breasts had become, and of how her once flat belly now protruded.
Logan must have sensed her thoughts, because he looked up at her again. “Every inch of you is beautiful. I love that it’s my baby inside you.”
She swallowed, his words doing powerful things to her senses. “I know I’m not beautiful.” Her breath caught in her throat.
“If you don’t believe me,” Logan paused and dropped a kiss on first one breast, then another, “I’ll just have to show you.” He laved her nipple with his tongue in swift strokes that made her mad with wanting. “Beautiful.” His dark head moved to her other breast, performing the same torture.
Just when she was writhing with utter, mind-numbing pleasure, he began kissing a trail down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton. His hands caressed the soft mound that housed their child. Then his mouth dipped lower, kissing a path to the elastic band of her lacy panties. He tugged them down over her hips, past her knees, over her ankles. She watched him toss the flimsy black scrap of lace to the floor behind him.
Logan’s large hands slid beneath her bare bottom, cupping her, bringing her to his waiting mouth. She moaned, her hands tangling once more in that glorious hair of his, helpless to do anything but lie there and await whatever sensual tortures he had in mind. He lapped at her sensitive skin, sucking, teasing, driving her wild. When he sucked her clit hard, she couldn’t keep from crying out.
Logan tore off his boxers and slid his large body atop hers. He grinned down at her wickedly. “So much for keeping what we’re doing a secret from the rest of the hotel.”
Claire pulled his head down for a kiss in answer, sliding her tongue inside his mouth. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Her legs fell open, cradling him, and she felt his stiff cock against her aching center. Reaching down between them, she grasped him, gratified when she heard his sharp intake of breath. He bucked against her, his tongue claiming her mouth in the same way he would soon claim her entire body.
“Claire. God, I need to be inside you now,” he groaned, capturing her hand. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
The only response she could manage was a throaty moan. She was no longer capable of speech, doubted she would be for some time. Logan entered her then in a long, deep thrust, filling her to the hilt. Pleasure rocked her body. He ended their kiss, looking down at her as he pulled himself almost completely out, then in again, setting up a rhythm she matched.
They’d waited so long, it seemed, for this moment. It didn’t last long. Claire came with body-shuddering intensity. This time, Logan swallowed her cries with his kiss. In another series of deep, delicious pumps, he came too, throwing back his head with a guttural cry. She felt his warmth fill her and relished it. They were beyond the point of condoms now, and she didn’t mind one bit.
Logan collapsed against her, rolling to his side and taking her with him. His eyes skewered hers and she knew instantly that this had been different from their weekend in New York. He cradled her close against his body. Claire reached out and swept a stray lock of black hair from his forehead. Despite her common sense and her best intentions, this man brought out a tenderness in her she couldn’t explain.
“Logan,” she began.
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips, then kissed her. “Don’t talk.”
The kiss deepened and went on until she felt him hardening again. Logan rolled onto his back, pulling Claire atop him, and she completely forgot what she had wanted to say.
“So tell me more about Eunice Withers.”
Logan paused in the midst of cutting his steak and looked up at her. His eyes gleamed unfathomable black in the candlelight flickering between them. “What do you want to know?” His tone was guarded, but not cold.
Claire toyed with the stem of her water glass. After spending the afternoon in bed, they’d finally managed to shower and change and make their way down to the hotel’s formal restaurant. Logan looked sexy in his typical white button-down shirt, his black hair wavy and untamed.
“I want to know everything,” she said finally. “Whatever you want to tell me.”
“She was one-of-a-kind,” Logan murmured, his voice soft with reminiscence. “Her husband had died of cancer the month before she found me. I think I became her project, something to take her mind off her loneliness.”
