Friction (7 page)

He smiled, remembering yesterday. “Let’s just not worry about any of that, huh? We’re on vacation, right? Off the clock?”

They stood silently for a moment, and her eyes drifted over his bare chest, the towel he’d almost forgotten he was wearing. She must have forgiven him; color pinched her cheeks. Without a word he pulled her toward him and closed the door, pushing her up against it, and kissed her before she could say one more word.

The kiss should have left her with no doubt about the fact that he’d missed her, but even as he searched her mouth, ran his hands over her curves, he felt a sting of guilt for lying to her. He pushed it back. The two things, what he did with Sarah during the day and the case he worked on at night, had to be kept separate. He didn’t want
anyone
knowing what he was up to.

When her hands yanked impatiently at the towel, leaving him naked and pressed up against her, he smiled, enjoying how forthright she was about her wants and needs. It was daytime now—Sarah time. He intended to enjoy it and leave the night behind, for now.

“I think you’re overdressed.” His voice dropped an octave and he saw her lips open slightly as she took a deeper breath, and then smiled. She’d forgiven him.

She ran her hands over his chest, stopping to tweak his nipples in a way that brought his cock immediately to attention. He didn’t feel sluggish now, that was for sure. He pushed the spaghetti string sundress she wore up her waist and past her gorgeous breasts and kissed every inch of skin as he revealed it. The pink lace bra she wore hinted at a sweetness, a femininity, that provided contrast to her tough demeanor. It totally turned him on and he groaned, sucking a dark nipple through the lace and pulling gently with his teeth as it budded in between his lips.

She buried her hands in his hair, directing him, but this time he intended to stay in charge and shook her hands off, exploring the swell of cleavage at his own pace, working her panties lower as he did so. Soon, they were both naked.

Leaning down, he snuck one arm under her knees and the other behind her, slipping her away from the door and up into his arms as he carried her over to the bed. The look on her face was one he’d carry with him forever—open desire and sheer surprise—apparently, Sarah had never been swept off her feet before.

She certainly hadn’t. Sarah was too surprised to protest when Logan swept her feet from under her, though she felt silly and touched all at once by the gesture, enjoying the feel of his hard arms holding her, but smiling as she watched her feet, still wearing her sandals, flopping around out in midair. Being so tall, she’d never really thought of herself as portable, but Logan made her feel like a feather. It was nice. It seemed like everything he did was nice.

Any anger she’d had about his absence that morning died a swift death as he laid her down and covered her from head to toe with his body, warming her and touching her everywhere. She couldn’t think straight, he was everywhere, and when he nudged his thigh between hers, pressing up where she was melting for him, she groaned and arched into him, rubbing against him harder.

Sarah couldn’t believe she was ready so fast, on the edge and urging him to do something—anything—to push her over. She wanted it hard and fast, like before, but, maddeningly, he took his time. She raised her head to object, but he shushed her.

When she shifted up onto her elbows her body moved just enough so that his chin was in line with the shadowy spot between her thighs. He smiled in a way that had her heart racing, and her objections caught in her throat.

When he pushed his face between her legs, nudging until she opened for him, she fell back to the pillows again. His tongue circled her clit, hot and slick, and she nearly lifted off the bed when her orgasm hit her. Panting, she opened wider, inviting him in for more.

He peered up at her, his eyes clouded with desire. Watching him lave her, his tongue darting out and tasting her, she felt a tide of affection and desire—no ugly thoughts or images assaulted her—and something that had been locked up tightly inside of her finally broke free.

Then he moved, and she felt his fingers probe, slid
ing inside, exploring her depths until she was blind to anything but everything he was making her feel. Just as she hovered on the edge again, he stopped, pulling himself up and covering her.

They looked into each other’s eyes, and Sarah swallowed at the tenderness she saw in his. Her scent surrounded them, and she rose to kiss him experimentally, finding that anything seemed to taste good on those lips of his, even her own essence. She deepened the kiss, partially because she loved kissing him, but also because she was a little afraid of how deeply he was looking at her, and what he might see when she was open to him like this.

But he wasn’t going to let her be afraid. Pulling back, he reached down, sliding one hand beneath her hip, and held her steady as he thrust inside her, deep and hard, and stayed planted there, rotating his hips in a delicious grind against her, never letting her eyes leave his.

“Tell me a secret, Sarah.” He pressed deeper, and she moaned, hardly able to hold a conversation. But he kissed her, refusing to pull out but maintaining the torturous pressure of staying deep inside her, until her gaze met his.

“Why?”

“I want to know something about you. While I’m this deep inside you, I want to know something about you that no one else knows.”

Sarah tried to wiggle, tried to move, to ease the need and the unbearable fullness, but he weighed her down, held her firm. Why did he want this from her? Wasn’t what she was giving him enough?

Her breathing was uneven, her mind blurred with pleasure and the increasingly urgent desire for release as he placed one hand between them, rolling her nipple almost casually, causing her to shudder.

“Just…one…secret…Sarah.” He kissed her face, punctuating his words. “Just one small thing about you that no other man knows.”

She bit her lip, searching his face. “Then I want one from you.”

“Deal.”

He pulled all the way out of her and she gasped with the wonderful friction of it, confused—she hadn’t told him a secret—but then he thrust back in, deeper, harder. She dragged her hands down his back, squeezed his ass, pulled him against her and felt him tense. Two could play.

“Okay. Um, I’ve never had food sex.”

He blinked, then smiled. “Not even with whipped cream?”

She shook her head, pressing up against him, sighing when he moved just a little.

“What kind of food sex do you fantasize about?”

“You want details now?”

He slid from her body in one long, leisurely pull, and then plunged back into her, making her cry out.

“Yes.”

She was aching for relief, but she managed to gasp out her one small food fantasy. She’d read about it in a book once, and had never been able to forget—and had never had anyone to share it with.

“Peaches. You have ripe, juicy peaches…you slice them open. You rub them all over each other, Lick the juice off…oh…”

He smiled, kissing her ear, swirling his tongue inside it in such a way that she lost all coherent thought for several seconds. She’d never known her ears were so sensitive.

“You rub them everywhere? Even here?” He licked lightly behind her ear, down the curve of her neck to her shoulder, and pumped into her slowly.

“Yes, there…”

He lifted up, moving down her body, his mouth everywhere, on her breasts, the indent of her waist…

“Here?”

“Yes…yes…. Oh…”

He was kneeling back now, hoisting her up by the hips, holding her firmly as he increased his pace, urging her to come, reaching down to press with his finger along the wildly sensitive flesh of her sex as he asked, one final time, “Here?”

“Yes!” Sarah screamed the word as the pleasure finally released and raged through her, throbbing through her limbs and out to her fingertips, nothing existing but Logan, who was still thrusting in a quick, steady rhythm. Gathering herself as much as she could, wanting to see him lose control, she saw his jaw set, knew he was close.

“You…tell me, Logan. What are your secrets?” She reached up, scoring her nails over him lightly, watching his eyes flash, then blur, with pleasure.

Leaning down over her he whispered his hot wishes
in her ear as he groaned out a release that sounded as powerful as hers had been. She listened closely to his secrets, none of which could be done at the moment—but they had a lot of time ahead of them, and not much else to do. As he collapsed over her she smiled, looking forward to keeping busy.

S
ARAH ROLLED OVER
, disoriented and tangled in sheets, but she didn’t get far before a strong, warm arm hauled her back against a very manly body. Logan.

She could hardly believe it; they’d slept right through lunch. She rarely slept like this, let alone with someone. She looked at the clock; it read half past one.

“I’m starving.” Logan growled against her shoulder, pressing against her, and she laughed, falling back.

“You can’t be serious. Again?”

It was his turn to chuckle. “I meant literally starving. For food. I never had breakfast, remember? You stalked in here and seduced me, and now I’m faint from hunger and exertion.”

She wound her arm down under the covers, wrapping her fingers around his erection.

“Yeah, I can see you’re about to pass out. And for the record, you seduced me.”

“I meant the second time.”

“Oh. Yeah, that was my fault.”

“I might have a little energy left, but then I’ll really need food.”

She took pity on him, rolling over to kiss him, offering a final, promising squeeze and then sliding out of bed, extending her hand to him.

“C’mon. Shower, then a late lunch.”

“But….” He looked shamelessly down at his jutting cock and then smiled at her.

She walked toward the shower, sending him a sly look. “Maybe we can take care of that in the shower.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking interested. “You think so?”

She just smiled and disappeared behind the door, hearing his footsteps seconds behind her.

“L
INE OR NET
?”

“Net. There’s no way I’m touching that stuff.”

Logan took the plastic container of chicken necks and salted eel. “It won’t bite you, but the crabs might.”

“I’ll risk it. That stuff stinks.”

“Just chicken and fish parts. Don’t be such a girl.”

She stuck her tongue out, testing the weight of the long-handled net in her hands. The inn was having a bring-your-own crab dinner. They had arranged local licenses, rented equipment and given everyone maps and instructions. Whatever you brought back, they’d cook and provide the side dishes. Sarah had her doubts, but Logan seemed to think it would be fun. So here they stood on a dock, Logan attaching a slimy piece of bait to a hand line while she waited with her net.

“We aren’t going to have to eat them whole, are we?”

“You don’t like softshells?” He sounded shocked. She wrinkled her face, thinking of the time she’d gone out to dinner with Ian, E.J. and Sage, all raving about soft-shell crab like it was the nirvana of food. Far from it, in her opinion.

“They look like fried spiders. I hate the way the legs hang out over the edges of the bun.”

“That’s the best part! You can bite them off before eating the rest.”

She shuddered, wondering if they’d let her order a hamburger for dinner. Logan dropped the line into the murky wetland water.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they can come up with something else. Probably crab cakes.”

“Now you’re talking. I love those.”

“This is the place for them—of course, Maryland is really the crab cake capital of the world, but I won’t be too picky about state lines.”

“Should we really be eating these? Aren’t they overfished?”

Logan nodded. “It’s a problem. The entire center of the Bay is protected water—no one can take blue crab out of water deeper than thirty-five feet, since the spawning crabs travelling from the north end of the Bay need to be protected. Some people think there needs to be more protection on the rivers and places like this, but there’s also the financial draw, the support for places like the inn and local restaurants.” He looked out over the Bay. “It’s a balance between protecting the crabs and making a living. We won’t take anywhere near as many as the license allows
us to. If we manage to find any. Might be burgers tonight after all.”

He winked at her, and she forgot about the crabs and wondered how long this would take. She wanted to get him back to the room. But before her thoughts could wander any further, he yelled in delight, lifting his line carefully.

“I guess my fears were unfounded. Let’s see what we have here.”

He pulled the line up very slowly, making sure not to dislodge the creature hanging from the end. Sarah brought the net down underneath as soon as she could reach, capturing the small, wriggling creature.

“It’s so small.”

Logan fished it out of the net. Avoiding the small claws, he turned it over and inspected it. Sarah watched it move, entranced by the pretty, soft blue shell. He held it up so she could see better.

“Meet
Callinectes sapidus,
the blue crab. The Latin translates to ‘savory beautiful swimmer.’ This one is probably too small. She’d make a decent sandwich maybe, but the law says she gets put back to go grow up and make more little crabs someday.”

Sarah frowned, looking closely. “How do you know it’s a girl crab?”

“See this triangular section? It’s called the apron—indicates we have a female. When she’s mature, it will be rounder, bluer, more defined, with a little point at the top. She’s got a ways to go yet.”

Sarah watched him toss the crab back into the water.

“So you’ve done this a lot? You know a lot about crabs.”

He nodded. “My parents took us out all the time when we were kids.”

“You have siblings?”

Sadness permeated his features, and she stayed silent. The mood had shifted in that moment, and she’d apparently stumbled onto something painful for him. Rebaiting the line and dropping it back into the water, his voice was low.

“I had a sister.”

Past tense. Sarah put a hand on his shoulder. She respected pain, and privacy.

“You don’t have to get into it.”

He was quiet for another few minutes, turning his face to kiss her hand lightly. “It was a long time ago. Her name was Mary. She drove me crazy.”

“Younger?”

“Yeah. I was thirteen, she was ten, and it was her mission in life to drive me out of my mind.”

“I imagine you did the same to her.”

He smiled slightly, remembering. “Yeah. We excelled at aggravating each other.” He sat back, sighing, waiting for another pull on the line, but none came. “She and my mother were killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. They died at the scene. My dad was a state cop, and by some cruel twist of fate he was the first car to arrive at the accident.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I’ve stopped wondering what she would
have grown up to look like, how life would have been different if none of it had happened. There’s no point, I suppose, in wondering. That doesn’t stop you, though.”

Sarah lined up behind him, warming him with a hug from behind, unsure what to say. There weren’t words to deal with that kind of hurt, that kind of loss. He wrapped his hands up around hers.

“Dad lost it after that. The guy who killed them did a year and was back on the road. Dad started drinking, lost his job. Before I hit college, he passed on, too. I think he just gave up.”

Sarah felt a chill run down the length of her body. Logan had essentially been left alone at thirteen. Lost everyone who meant anything to him before he was even close to being an adult.

“You lived through it. You survived.”

“It’s a blur. I don’t remember the years after Mom and Mary died too closely. I tried to help him, tried to—” He cut himself off, shaking the memories off like water. “It was hard, but I got through. There were some family members who came around, who tried to help, but there was only so much anyone could do.”

Sarah sat, honored that he’d told her but unsure what to say. They’d been physically close, but this brought them to an entirely new level. And she didn’t know how comfortable she was with that. This was supposed to be a fling, but with just a few words, Logan had taken them somewhere she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

Not that she had a choice, it seemed. She squeezed him in her arms, feeling for the grief he must have suffered, and understanding some of it, though in a different way. She supposed in cases like this it was normal to share something back, but she wasn’t going to do that. She couldn’t. Another tug on the line saved her from having to worry about it as he turned his attention back to the line, and pulled it up again.

“Get the net—this is a good one, I can feel it.”

She picked up the net, at the ready, glad to have the solemn mood broken. She looked down—he was indeed pulling up the largest, bluest crab she’d ever seen. She reached down with the net, securing it, and pulled it up on the dock. Logan put his hand on her arm, cautioning.

“Be careful with the big ones—those claws can grab hold and not let go.”

Raising her eyebrows, she took a step back. The large crab had a lot of spunk, facing off and clicking his claws like mad. He didn’t care that he was a lot smaller—he had more arms, and he was ready to use them. Sarah smiled, respecting the crustacean’s attitude.

“Hey, tough guy.”

“Uh-oh.” Logan’s voice interrupted her, sounding ominous.

“What?”

He sighed. “I know that sound, that tone of voice. You won’t want to make crab cakes out of him, will you? You like him. You think he’s cute.”

Sarah blew him off, making a loud raspberry at the crab.

“Nope, he looks like dinner to me.” She looked up.
“Will we need more? He’s pretty huge. And you know it’s a he?” She was still confounded by how someone could tell the sex of a crab, but hey, Logan did seem to know his biology.

“Yeah. So you don’t want to throw him back?”

She shook her head resolutely. “No, since he’s a he, we can definitely cook him.”

“Ouch. I say that for all mankind, crustaceans included.”

She grinned. “Sorry. But I do like crab cakes, and I won’t feel too bad if we’re only taking this one.”

“That’s the spirit.” Logan put on a pair of heavy gloves and approached the crab from behind, picking him up carefully and tossing him into a deep pail.

“Let’s head back.”

T
HEIRS WAS
the biggest crab, though others taking part in the picnic had caught more than they could eat, so there was plenty of crab for everyone, and many funny stories to go around. Sarah polished off her third crab cake, and turned to catch Logan watching her, an odd light in his eyes. A warmth that created an answering heat in her. She spooned up the last bite of crab and dipped it in mustard sauce, offering it to him.

“You think you can lure me with that bait?”

“I stand a fair chance. It’s not everyone I would let have the last bite.”

“I must be special.”

The words floated between them, and she decided to neither confirm nor deny.

It was dark outside; the backyard of the inn had been transformed into a fairyland lit with Chinese lanterns, flowers and trees budding everywhere around them, the spicy aroma of crab and other assorted foods in the air. Everyone laughed, talked and ate—including Sarah and Logan—until it neared ten, and she felt him start to pull away.

Deciding to face the issue head-on, she looked him in the eye and called a spade a spade. “Are you a vampire or something?”

He looked at her blankly, obviously confused. “What?”

“Well, you always start to tense up when it gets late, you become distracted, distant…the party is just getting started here, and the night is young, but I can feel you pulling yourself away.” She took a deep breath, not losing eye contact, forcing herself to say the words. “Are you married, Logan?”

“No! For Christ’s sake, no, I’m not married. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

He seemed truly shocked and offended, but she wasn’t going to let it throw her.

“Fine, that’s good. So what is it then?”

His look became guarded, and she knew she had him—she just didn’t know what she had him on. A different approach was called for. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t be pressured or nagged into telling her what he was up to, and she really wasn’t one for nagging anyway.

She leaned in, running her hand over the muscles of
his forearm, finding her way into the crook of his neck where she planted a few wet kisses, feeling the pulse at the base of his throat beat more strongly. Whispering in his ear, she reminded him of the things he’d said to her on the beach—his secrets, his fantasies—and asked him to spend the night with her so she could make a few of them come true.

How was a guy supposed to resist an offer like that? Logan felt his entire body go up in flames at her whispered suggestions, and went rock-hard when her hand drifted from his arm to his thigh. He had work to do, he had arrangements to make—he needed to get on board that boat, to find out what had happened to Mel—so why was he finding it almost impossible to think about his work with Sarah’s scent surrounding him? Suddenly he didn’t seem to want anything but her touch, and to be inside her, sleeping next to her….

His mind reared back, protesting—he’d just met this woman, and he was letting her distract him from a goal he’d spent months pursuing. He was letting his little head lead the way, and that wasn’t like him. He owed Mel—she’d been his friend, and he had to stay on track so he could clear her reputation. Maybe even find her, though his gut told him that wasn’t going to happen. If Mel was alive, she would have contacted him if she could; he believed that.

But even thinking about the case couldn’t dampen his response to Sarah’s seduction. He tried to ignore the way her tongue darted out and tasted his skin—he was going to have a hell of a time getting up from this
table—but he had to try to concentrate on what was important. He liked Sarah, but he had to keep things controlled, mostly himself.

“I—I, uh, I’m just a little tired. Remember I didn’t sleep much last night, and it’s been a um, busy day.”

She laughed huskily by his cheek, not about to give up. “We slept into the afternoon. I’m wide-awake.” She drew back, leveling him a seductive look that nearly knocked him off his seat. “And I want you. I want to spend the night with you.”

Then she added the one word that really killed him, knowing her as he did. Her eyes locked to his, she simply said, “Please.”

Sarah realized both things were true—she did want him, and she did want to spend the night with him, more so than she had imagined—but she also wanted to see if she could break through this mystery of why he always dumped her at the doorstep like a princess about to turn into a pumpkin. She didn’t even mind doing a little light pleading—it didn’t feel wrong. In fact, she knew it would touch him. And from the look on his face, it had.