Willow
Iawoke slowly, languidly stretching limbs still stiff with sleep. Skin brushed skin as I rolled into the wall of warm muscle nestled tightly beside me, nuzzling my face against it and sliding my fingers over it.
I froze suddenly, my eyes flying open, my breath catching and evaporating. Staring at Logan’s chest, recalling every single sordid detail of the night before, I wondered frantically how I was going to avoid having to deal with what we’d done, but more pressing was how to avoid having to deal with Logan.
While my thoughts spiraled into full-on panic mode and I contemplated making a screaming run for it, Logan sighed in his sleep, releasing me as he rolled away. I remained frozen for several seconds, making sure he was still asleep before rolling out of bed, grasping wildly for the clothing strewn all over my bed, and making a run for the bathroom, my footfalls softer and stealthier than ever before.
Closing the door softly behind me, I collapsed against it, staring at my wild-eyed reflection in the mirror. I looked…
Hand to my cheek, I pushed my heavy veil of hair away from my face and swallowed hard. My lids were heavy, my lips were swollen, and there was a small mark on my neck… and another one on my shoulder. Between my legs throbbed with the memory of the man who lay asleep just outside the door.
A man who’d left me looking…and feeling… very well fucked.
“Shit,” I spat softly, dropping my hand. Cursing, I dug through the clothing I’d gathered, relieved to find I’d grabbed everything I needed. Dressing quickly, I splashed some water over my face and turned to the door, my hand hovering over the knob as a fresh wave of panic gripped me. What if he was awake? What would I say? WhatcouldI say? I was fairly certain I was one thousand percent tongue-tied at the moment.
Making up my mind to grab my boots and make a run for it, I twisted the knob slowly, careful that it didn’t as much as creak. Heart in my throat, I pushed the door open, nearly crumpling in relief to find Logan still facing away from me, still sleeping soundly. Snatching my boots off the floor, I fumbled briefly with the lock on the door and then I was pushing into the early morning, flying barefoot across grass still wet with dew. Forgoing the dining hall—I absolutely couldn’t face a single soul in my current state—I ran straight to work.
Stab. Stab. Stab. Stabbing my trowel deep into the dirt, I worked furiously, breaking up a tightly compacted mound of mud and soil.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.My hand slowed, my eyes closing, each stab deeper and harder than the last.
I wanted to hate what had happened—at the very least, I wanted to forget it. But… there was no denying the growing throb between my legs, and the way my body kept flushing with heat. I hadn’t hated it—not even a little bit—and I definitely wouldn’t be forgetting it.
“Willow? You okay, hun?”
My eyes flew open. Cassie was working beside me, tending to the same mound of dirt. In the face of her scrutiny, I felt my flush deepen, wondering if she knew what I’d done last night—if she could tell just by looking at me.
“I’m fine,” I muttered as I resumed stabbing the earth. “Hungover, I think.”
It wasn’t too far from the truth—I’d definitely drank enough to still be feeling it this morning. At least, that’s what I was attempting to convince myself—that what had occurred between Logan and I had been the unfortunate result of too much whiskey and wine.
Cassie placed a gloved hand on my arm. “Why don’t you clock out early and go get washed up? You’ve been working your tail off all morning, and I’m sure you want to be refreshed for Hank’s celebration.”
During the breakfast I’d skipped, it had been announced that Hank had died yesterday morning, succumbing to injuries that had been too extensive for Doc to treat. He’d already been buried, taken to a small cemetery outside of camp, and a small celebration of his life would be held in the dining hall that evening for anyone who wished to attend.
I hadn’t planned on attending; I hadn’t known Hank. Not that I could tell Cassie that while she was wiping a tear from her cheek.
Sitting back on my heels, I swiped the sweat from my brow. “Yeah, okay, I could use a shower.” Maybe a shower would wash away the scent of Logan that still clung to my skin, and the memory of his hands on me.
His hands cupping my face, squeezing my ass, gripping my thighs tight.I swallowed hard, nearly choking as a wave of need rolled hotly through me. The distant drumming of the dresser against the wall echoed in my thoughts, my mouth both drying and watering at the memory.
Jumping up, I stormed from the garden, with every intention of heading to the Bath House, only… as I neared the heart of camp, I found myself walking in the opposite direction. Nervous anticipation shuddered through me as I approached the construction site. I spotted him immediately, fitting floorboards onto the base of a new addition. He was shirtless, his broad, tan back glistening beneath the hot sun.
EJ noticed me first, nudging Logan. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan rose from kneeling, his low-slung jeans falling even lower on his hips. I sucked in a breath at the full sun-kissed length of him, another potent burst of desire shooting through me. I’dneverfelt like this before. I’d never felt such intense need before—it was as if a tap had burst inside of me.
My heart pounding in my throat, I spun around and hurried down the path. Bursting inside the cabin, I pressed my back against the door and surveyed the room—surprised to find it clean. All that remained from the mess we’d made the night before was the lopsided dresser, one of its legs broken clean off.
Breath after heady breath filled my lungs. Warmth pooled low in my belly, my every nerve lighting up in response to my thoughts. Slipping my hand between my thighs, I squeezed my legs together, whimpering as my desire intensified.
There was a bang on the door; the wood pushed against my back. I jumped sideways, scrambling backward as Logan pushed inside, pausing in the threshold. Still shirtless, sweat shining from every rock-hard inch of him, intensity rolled off him in hot, heavy waves.
We came together in a frenzy of reckless lips. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, I jumped up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. While I roughly pawed at him and he fought to hold me, he stumbled sideways, crashing into the wall. Pinning me there, his hands explored my body, kneading my ass and groping my breasts. “Fuck,” he groaned against my mouth. “Fuck.”
“Willow, darlin’,” Britta called out as the cabin door flung open. “You comin’ to Hank’s—oh shit, my bad.” The door slammed shut with her hurried departure.
Like a burning branch plunged into ice water, my feet hit the floor with a gasp. “Stop,” I demanded, pushing at Logan. “Logan,stop!”
Cursing, he backed quickly away, his hands going to his hair, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. I stared at him, breathing hard, guilt and desire fighting for supremacy.
