Logan never walked so quickly in his life; truthfully, he felt as if he’d flown. As if Mercury had put wings on his feet and zipped them both up to the bedroom.
He leaned back against his door, clicking it shut, fum¬bling to lock it and not drop Angel. She was so slight he could hold her against him with one hand, but he didn’t want to stop touching her at all.
He also didn’t want Michael walking in on them, so he managed to move quickly and without breaking the kiss he’d started halfway up the stairs.
She felt so good in his arms, her hair stroking him as if she were running hundreds of fingertips all over his body, and Logan groaned into her mouth at that image. He couldn’t wait to have her under him and moving, naked, against him as she was right now.
He walked over to the bed and set her on it on her knees. She flung both arms around him, freeing that other arm at last. He hadn’t wanted to be apart from her for even a moment to give her the use of that arm, but as one of her soft, graceful hands found the curve of his cheek and the other slid down his back, he realized that had been a mistake. One he’d never repeat again.
“God, your hair is so beautiful,” he murmured against the golden strands that slid against his cheek like silk. Silk scented like her.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, kissing his throat. Logan didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he figured it was a pretty good response.
Then he didn’t care what it meant because her tongue flicked across his Adam’s apple and his breath caught at that very spot and he emitted his own “Mmmmm.”
Definitely a good response.
Sliding his fingers through her hair, Logan caressed her neck and stroked down her back, remembering how sexy she’d looked with that blanket pooled at the base of her spine. He was going to kiss his way down to that very spot the moment he got her clothes off—though the way her hands were moving, it looked like his would be off before hers.
He had no objection to that.
Logan took a quick kiss to tide himself over the few seconds he needed to remove his shirt. Then he reached behind his head and yanked it up and off in one move-ment just as he had on the boat, only this time, there was no way he’d cover her with it.
“Oh gods…” she whispered against his chest, and Logan felt his nipples tighten.
Then she licked one while her fingers ran over the rest of his chest, feathering through his hair, down along his obliques, tracing down to his hip and Logan felt his knees tremble.
Ah, that was what had happened to her by the steps.
He’d been so worried—
Her tongue trailed across his chest to his other nipple and Logan forgot all about that worry.
Now all he was worried about was coming before she got naked.
And with the ache in his groin, that was a serious possibility.
Logan speared his hands through her hair and urged her head back. Her tongue took one last twirl around his nipple, almost bringing him to his knees and Logan sucked in a deep breath. “Angel. Honey. Wait.”
She glanced up at him from beneath long lashes every bit as golden as her hair, her lips plump and moist and pink. “Wait? Really?”
No, God, no. He didn’t want to wait.
Logan closed his eyes. Get a grip, Hardington.
Oh he wanted to get a grip, all right.
“Give me a moment… to catch my breath.” Her smile told him he didn’t have a moment.
Sure enough, she leaned forward and licked his navel, her eyes never leaving his. “Did you catch it yet?”
Her warm breath feathered over the trail her tongue had left behind and Logan shivered. Eighty-five degrees out and he shivered.
He also smiled. What a sight. Moist lips, an imp¬ish look in those gorgeous aquamarine eyes, her head cocked seductively, exposing the graceful curve of her
neck, on her knees before him, her hands wreaking a fabulous kind of havoc everywhere she touched…
He cupped her cheek and drew her face to his as he bent over to meet her, her lips tasting so utterly delicious he thought this must be what ambrosia tasted like. That mythical nectar of the gods. No wonder poets called it that. An experience so heady and perfect it could only be divine.
He pulled back from the kiss, staring into her eyes, knowing he could lose himself in their depths. And while the thought was utterly terrifying, not being with her was more so. “I want you, Angel.”
She smiled and its warmth was mirrored in her eyes. “I’m aware of that, Logan.” Her straying hands told him she was, indeed, aware of how badly he wanted her.
She stroked him and Logan had to close his eyes and grit his teeth. It wouldn’t take much.
“Angel,” his breath was ragged, “are you sure—?” “What do you think?” She undid his shorts and
shoved them down his legs.
Alrighty then.
But she wasn’t going to be the only one who got to play.
Sucking in another breath when her palm brushed the head of his erection, Logan slid his hands along the side of her shirt, finding the curve of her breast just as she wrapped her hand around him.
He rocked forward, trying to keep his balance.
Then she stroked his balls with her other hand and balance became a huge issue. “Oh, God, Angel…” He steadied himself on her shoulders, his eyes inexorably drawn to watch her hands on his body.
He sucked in a breath when she rolled first one, then the other, between her fingers, fondling him with just the right amount of firmness, playing with them, stroking them, as she swirled her palm on the head of his cock and her hair slipped over her shoulder to brush against his groin.
His knees were seriously demanding to be put out of their misery.
His cock was seriously demanding—period. Logan didn’t want this to end too soon.
Dragging in another ragged breath, he stroked her hair, trying to remember not to pull it. But it was hard, so hard, everything was hard…
“Angel…”
Thank God she stopped. He was one stroke away from coming.
“Yes?” She licked her lip again in that way she did and all Logan could think of was her doing that to him. Later. They’d get to that later. Right now he wanted… oh, hell, he didn’t know what he wanted. Only that it had
something to do with her and being naked.
Hell, his shorts were still puddled at his feet.
He shook his head and stepped out of them, raising one knee to the bed, cupping her shoulder and sliding his fingers to the fastening of her shirt at the back of her neck, beneath that glorious hair, trying to show her what he wanted because he seriously doubted he could speak coherently at the moment. He was amazed he was capable of even semi-coherent thought.
The words, “Untie it,” did manage to make them-selves heard, and he exhaled when she let her top fall.
She wore the red lingerie.
Oh lord. Logan felt his blood race through his veins,
an utter rush of sensation and feeling and gratitude and lust and pure awe at how beautiful she was.
He fingered the delicate pattern of lace, just brush¬ing her skin with his fingertips, hearing her breath go shallow. Watching her pulse flutter, seeing her nipples tighten, her breasts swell the fabric against her skin. He stroked the silk cup, his thumb unerringly finding the rigid peak at the center. It hardened and Logan couldn’t help himself—he leaned down to stroke her through the fabric with his tongue.
Angel’s breath caught and her head fell back, raising her breast to the perfect angle. Logan nipped at her with his lips, feeling himself grow harder, achingly so, and he nudged her backwards.
Angel went willingly into the pillows and cradled his head when he laid half on top of her, his tongue still playing with her.
He spread his hand wide against her stomach, enjoy-ing the fluttery movements there as she tried to catch her breath, feeling the muscles move as she arched her breast into his mouth, as her legs slid apart, waiting…
Her shirt encircled her waist, and her pants stretched between her hipbones with enough of a gap for him to slip his fingers inside. A perfect invitation he wasn’t about to refuse.
She moaned again, low and long. Beneath a small triangle of silk—red, he assumed—he stroked the curls that he knew matched her hair, wanting to feel them against his body, his face, his tongue.
Later.
Angel spread her legs wider, invitingly, and Logan slid his fingers lower.
She gripped his shoulders, her breath coming even quicker. “Logan, oh, yes, oh, gods, please…”
He nudged her bra down and circled her nipple with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, totally unprepared for the sensation. She fit perfectly, as if she was made for him. His tongue stroked her, his fingers stroked her, and her body, well, it almost seemed to undulate like waves on the ocean beneath his touch.
She slid one of her hands up his back to tangle in his hair. “Logan. I want…” She arched against him, higher, her heels now on the bed, opening herself as much as her clothing would allow.
The hell with that.
Logan undid the front clasp of her strapless bra—a man surely invented that wonder—and shoved her shirt and pants down her legs. Angel pulled one leg free, kicking everything to the floor with the other.
Logan lifted his head. He’d been right. Her thong was red, too.
She looked like a goddess lying there on his bed, her hair spread out around her, some drifting across her stomach and chest, a nipple peeking from beneath it, moist from where he’d tasted her. Her lips swollen, her eyes dark blue with desire…
“Inside, Logan,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.” He did, too.
With a jerky movement that he was too aroused to care wasn’t suave, Logan braced one leg on the floor and grabbed a condom from the bedside table. Damned thing was too hard to open—
Especially when she reached out and stroked his cock. His leg gave out and Logan had to brace himself so
he wouldn’t fall on her. “You better watch out, Angel. We might not need this”—he held up the condom—“if you keep doing that.”
“Oops. Sorry.” She withdrew her hand. “I’ll be good.” Then she smiled that impish smile and shimmied out of her thong. “Or bad. Depends on what you want.”
Logan dropped the condom.