Page 67 of Guardian

He ran his hands over her torso, gently stroking over her bra-covered breasts without lingering, before returning to them and rubbing over her nipples. Through the thin fabric he felt them harden to little points. He pinched them lightly, eliciting a moan from their owner. Then he dipped his thumbs beneath the fabric and rubbed over her stiff nipples. Winter’s chest rose, and he took her reaction as an invitation and shoved the cups to the side, letting her breasts pop out of their cage. One bra strap slipped from her shoulder, then the other, giving her breasts even more freedom.

He cupped the heavy globes in his palms and squeezed them. He’d always been a breast man, but Winter’s breasts were particularly beautiful, perfectly round, perfectly firm, and perfectly delicious.

Logan dipped his head to them and sucked one nipple into his mouth, licking his tongue over it, before showering the other breast with the same attention.

“I thought you wanted to undress me,” Winter murmured breathlessly.

“I am, love, I am. I’m just taking my time.”

He reached around her, found the clasp of the bra and opened it. He tossed it on the hamper and captured her breasts once more, massaging them with his hands, kneading them, exploring them, while Winter sighed softly.

“See? You need this.”

“Yes.”

Then he reached for her panties and freed her of them. They landed on top of the hamper, too. His ears picked up the sound of the water running, and he knew it was time to turn it off.

“Don’t move,” he said and walked to the tub.

He turned off the faucet, testing the water, and realized it was a little too hot. Just as well. He wasn’t quite done with Winter. Turning back to her, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside to join the other clothes.

“Are you joining me in the tub?” Winter asked, watching him.

“No. The tub’s too small for it. And the water is still too hot.” He was already getting rid of his shoes and socks. His pants followed.

He caught her gaze on him, when he hooked his thumbs into his boxer briefs. “I figured we could kill time until the water is a little cooler.”

She smirked. “You mean instead of adding cold water?”

Stripping himself of his underwear, he said, “Where would be the fun in that?” Naked now, he stalked toward her. “Unless you’d prefer to skip this and go straight for the tub?”

Winter slid her hand onto his butt and pulled him to her so his groin connected with her stomach.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” he murmured to her and lifted her into his arms.

He carried her to the cushioned bench that stood near one wall and sat down on it, lifting Winter onto his lap so she was straddling him. His cock was hard already. It had taken all of thirty seconds to get him ready. Just looking at her beautiful body and touching her smooth skin, licking her sweet breasts had done that.

“I need to be inside you,” he said. “I need to come inside you. To feel that everything is alright.”

He lifted her hips to bring his cock to her center, when she suddenly stiffened. His gaze snapped to her face. “Something wrong?”

She hesitated. “I know we talked about this earlier, you know, with you being an immortal.”

He wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“But when I saw the twins today, it dawned on me: your race procreates. I mean, you can impregnate a woman. You said back in that motel room that you couldn’t.”

Logan let out a sigh of relief. “I should have explained things better. I’m sorry. You couldn’t know. Yes, we procreate the same way humans do, but there is a small distinction. Stealth Guardian males are born sterile. Only once they go through a bonding ritual with a female, do they become fertile.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I can’t get you pregnant, Winter.” At least not yet.

“Oh.” She stared at him in surprise. Then she seemed to catch herself. “I mean, no offense. I’m not saying that it would be a disaster to get pregnant by you. I mean… you know, but I’m single, and… it’s not that I’m religious or anything, but I don’t think I have the energy to raise a child on my own, and… anyway, it’s not that I don’t like children… I do, but—”

“Winter?” he interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you babbling nervously?”

“I’m not babbling.”