For Kicks (14 page)

“Something like that.” Marc leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Are you still interested in her, or have you tired of the chase?”

Logan shrugged, rolling his lips inward to seal them tight. Was keeping his promise of discretion to Breeze really worth lying? Especially when he could count on Marc’s silence?

“You have to work for anything worth having, Logan.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. She has an issue with us both working on the same project. And now retail wants to recruit her.” The truth. Barely.

“She’s smart about that, Logan. Retail is a nasty business. Very cutthroat. Especially for women.”

“I thought retail is a woman’s business.”

“Only at the ground level. It’s as much an old boys’ club as everywhere else. And she’s a woman, young and pretty. Three strikes against her in that world. She doesn’t need any rumors.”

“Have you two been talking? Because that’s the speech she’s giving me.” He grinned and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Smart girl. Besides, if you pull back a little she might come after you.”

He huffed his response, resisting the urge to laugh. If he pulled back now, she’d read it as rejection and close herself off so tightly no one would ever see the sweet, vulnerable side that drew him in.

“She really has you tied up in knots.” Marc looked him up and down. “What is it about her, Logan?”

“I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy.” He ground out the words. “And with her traveling so much, she doesn’t have time for me to find out.”

“Uh oh,” Marc said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Love is unexplainable, you know. That’s how you know you’re in it.”

“Fat lot of help you are.” Logan turned to leave, not sure why he thought he’d find answers here in the first place.

“You could point out that a lot of couples work at Nitrous, like Janelle and me. Or print out the section on fraternizing from the employee handbook. As long as you aren’t her direct supervisor, it’s a non-issue as far as Nitrous is concerned. And if you get that job with global marketing you’ve been sniffing around, you’ll be out of the retail side completely. No conflict at all.”

Chapter Ten

“What are you wearing?” Logan’s voice dripped through the phone line.

Glad he couldn’t see the satisfied smile on her face, Breeze put the cell phone on speaker and lay back against the pillows on her bed. “Nothing you’d want to see.”

“I guessed so. You sent the number with the ribbons back with me.”

She was eternally grateful he couldn’t see her blush. “You went through my bag? You’re just supposed to drop it off at the condo and check on my fish.”

“Speaking of, I think your filter is broken. Where do you usually buy your plants? And snails?”

“Oh no.” She sat straight up, picturing her goldfish in murky water. He’d mentioned having fish of his own, so she’d given him a key to drop off her bag and make sure they’d been fed. It was much easier to trust him with her things than her heart.

“The fish are fine. They’ve eaten the roots and leaves on most everything. And the snails.”

“They ate the snails!” She slumped against the pillows again. “Anthony must not be feeding them often enough.” She hooked a nail on her tooth, wondering what it would cost her to ask him for this kind of favor.

“They look well fed to me, especially this spotted behemoth. I have a fish guy. I’ll call him and see when he can come out. But with no filter we really should get some more plants in there.”

“You have a fish guy?”

“He maintains the saltwater tanks at my place. But he’s probably going to tell me to build these guys a pond. They’re huge. And the black-tailed one keeps spitting rocks at me.”

“Oh, that’s Fred. He’s friendly.”

“You have friendly fish? Maybe I should look into goldfish. Mine have a superiority complex.”

She chuckled, twirling a curl around her finger. “Could you give me the name of your fish guy? I’ll see when he can come out and then get Lonnie or Anthony to let him in.”

“I’ll call him. You can have my slot tomorrow and he can work me in whenever. It’ll knock my fish down a few pegs.”

“Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

She made out a faint rustling in the background. “Where are you?”

“On your bed. Where are you?”

“Why are you on my bed? Don’t you have to…” Think of something, Breeze. Get the picture of him waiting for you on your bed out of your mind, “…to go to Under The Sea and get some plants for the tank?”

“I will. But I think I’ll go cash in hand, so to speak. Make it up to me.”

“I was thinking in terms of money or chores.”

“You have those kinds of fantasies?”

“Excuse me?”

“Call girl and domestic discipline?” A dark laugh vibrated through the line.

Breeze gasped, unable to close her mouth.

“I didn’t think so.” She could just envision the smile playing on his delicious lips.

“Make it up to me. Where are you?”

“In bed.” She shook her head as if he could see, as if it mattered. “Logan, I can’t do this.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Seriously, this isn’t happening.” She crossed her arms over her chest and wished her cotton nightshirt had been clean. “I don’t know how.”

“Turn the light off.”

“How did you know it was on?” She flicked the lamp off, darkening the room.

“Now, what are you wearing?”

The silence stretched on, making Breeze painfully aware of the lace scratching against her breasts. Damned Anthony. If he could just feed fish and buy sensible nightgowns she wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“If it’s that good, you should keep it on.”

“I intend to.”

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s not what you think anyway. I usually sleep in a thermal nightshirt. This was just clean.”

“Keep going.”

“How?” She waited for an answer, anticipation beginning to stir her thoughts. What would it hurt, really? “A satin chemise. It’s lilac with lace along the neckline and the hem.”

“I know the one.” Tension sparked as if he was in the room. “I saw it when I got your laundry. You look great in it.” His low voice caressed her like a touch.

“You can’t see me.” She bit her bottom lip and pulled the blankets higher in her lap.

“Oh, but I can. Your nipples are trying to peek through the lace.”

Expecting to prove him wrong, she looked down. How did he know? Her nipples puckered in response to his voice, and the more he spoke the tighter they pulled.

“Let me see them. Lean forward so I can catch a glimpse of them in the light from the window.”

His soft, suggestive voice had her heart pounding. She could feel his eyes on her. “You don’t have a web cam, do you?”

“This is better, trust me. Lean forward so I can see.”

She obliged, not feeling half as ridiculous as she thought she would. In fact, she didn’t feel strange at all. “What are you wearing?”

“A sweater, jeans and socks. I left my Kicks by the front door.”

She swallowed hard. “Could you take off the sweater? So I’m not alone in this?” Hearing the rustling of fabric she pictured him propped against the pillows of her bed, his bronzed chest ready for her to explore.

“Take off your panties.”

Her breath caught. “No.”

“Come on. They are white cotton briefs. It ruins the effect of the lingerie.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I did your laundry. Please, take them off.”

She tried not to make a sound as she pulled them down her legs and let them drop to the floor. Her stomach fluttered as she sat back on the bed, too aware nothing separated her from the satin.

“Thank you.” His husky voice sent the fervor flooding back through her body, reminding her of everything she’d tried to forget in the last two days.

“Logan…”

“I love it when you say my name.”

“You do?”

“I like it best when you say it when you come.”

Her heart stuttered. “I did?”

“Every time.” His low, husky voice sounded hard with passion. “Lean forward,” he said in the same heated tone. “Show me how turned on you are. How tight your nipples are.”

She granted the request mindlessly, watching her body to see what he saw.

“I want to touch them. Right where you’re spilling out. Trace the lace for me, Breeze.”

With a tentative finger, she obeyed, her touch as light as a tickle. Not like his at all. She tried again, more confident this time, but still it wasn’t enough.

“I want to trace the edge of your gown with my tongue. Pull the straps off your shoulders with my teeth so I can see more of you. Would you like that, Breeze?”

“Logan…I…” His deep, longing breaths intoxicated her mind.

“I want to kiss you. What flavor is your lip gloss today?”

“Raspberry.” Her tongue darted out, tasting to be sure.

“Mmm. You always taste so good. Show me where you want me to kiss you.”

“How?” Arousal surged within, her frustration with this game mounting.

“Move your fingers where I tell you to, where you want me to be.”

“I don’t do this.” She let out a breath and closed her eyes, wishing she weren’t so dependent on him to guide her.

“Touch yourself? Why not?”

“I don’t think of myself this way.” Her mind sparked, wondering if this was what was missing in her life. She knew it was something elusive and intangible. Without it she had a diffuse dissatisfaction with life, though she had all she needed.

“You do now.”

“Only because you do.”

Desire bubbled through her with the sound of his voice, lifting the psychological weight keeping her from feeling much of anything. She always avoided feeling, caring. But with Logan, she wanted to. Because no matter how bad she’d hurt later, it felt damned good right now.

She’d given him the keys to her innocence, her trust. A man who could destroy her personally and professionally with a few small words. The part of her psyche she kept bound and gagged mumbled why she trusted him, but Breeze didn’t dare listen.

“If it’s me, then show me where you want me to kiss you. I can see you, your eyes closed, dark lashes against your pale cheeks, your hand hovering in hesitation. No one will ever know you but me.”

Her breath caught at the possessiveness of his words. Did he really mean—

“No one will know, Breeze. Lick your lips so they are wet where I’ve tasted them,” he coaxed. “Trace your fingers along your neck to that spot behind your ear, then pull them down along your jaw.”

She obeyed his requests willingly, desire ricocheting through every nerve. The quickened pace of his breathing pushing her on.

“Trail your hand down your neck, across your collarbone.”

It was almost like being in a trance, playing a secret, wicked game. Knowing he could see her in his mind, just as she could see him on her bed.

“I can’t see enough of you. I need more. Pull the straps off your shoulders. Show me.”

She slid one thin strap down her arm and paused, realizing how low it dipped, how the straps held her arm at her side. Not trapping her really, she could end this at any time. If she could think of a reason why she’d want to.

“You stopped. Why? Don’t you want me to see? To touch? Kiss?”

With a moan she released the other strap, the lace of the chemise tight against her puckered nipples.

“It’s still covering too much, lift them out for me, show me.”

Inside, liquid heat cocooned her in a dreamy haze. She couldn’t help but oblige his request. He wanted to watch her, touch her, be with her right now. Though with the distance he could more easily find pleasure elsewhere. His ragged breath and careful attention showed this is where he wanted to be.

“I love to look at you. I can’t get enough. So beautiful, sculpted. Like a goddess to be worshiped. How do they feel? Can you tell me?”

Cradling her breasts in her hands, she thought about the sensation, recalling how different it felt when he did the same thing in the tub. “They’re full, heavy. The air conditioner is on and I don’t think they like the cold.”

“They’re beaded like ripe raspberries. But I don’t think it’s from the cold. I think it’s because you are so very hot.”

“I am.” He’d cast the erotic spell, but the power felt like it was shifting, as if the magic was theirs to share. Need pulsed through her. She liked when he told her what to do and wondered if he’d like the same thing. “Touch me, Logan.”

“Oh,
yes
,” he hissed. “Touch yourself for me. Pass your thumbs around the dark area surrounding your nipples. But don’t touch them.”

“No?”

“Not yet. That feels good, doesn’t it? Your breasts are so sensitive. And sweet. Can I taste them?”

“Please.” She panted, squirming on the bed.

“Lick your fingers. Make them slick. Rub it over the very tip of your nipple. Faster. Faster. Just like my tongue. You taste so good.

“Now roll them between your thumb and finger. And pull just a little bit at the tip.” His shuddering groan matched hers. “Harder. They are so tight and firm. That means you like this.”

She relaxed back on the pillows, enjoying everything. “I do. I like everything you show me.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so glad. I want to show you more. But first you have to show me more.”

“What do you want to see?” She pulled aside the blankets, knowing what he wanted, but needing to hear him ask, beg for it.

“Lift your nightgown for me. Slow now, I want to watch the lace inch up your thighs. Lift up a little, pull it all the way up to your hips.”

With the top down under her breasts and the bottom lifted to her hips, only her stomach was covered. Why did he have to be all the way across the country now? Because no matter how good this was, she doubted it would be good enough.

“Relax your thighs and let your knees drop open. Show me where you melt, where you are sweeter than even your skin, your mouth. Where you want my mouth to be.”

She whimpered in frustration, the cool evening air reminding her how wet and ready he made her.

“Put your hands flat on the inside of your thighs for me. Pull them open, make room for me.”

She hissed and cupped her mound, blocking it from the draft.