Linger (22 page)

Part of Logan—the loudest part—wanted to pull away from the bright, beautiful creature living with him for the next year, to hide in the darkest corner and analyze what had happened and why.

But now that Scarlett had gotten her foot wedged in the doorway to his soul, he wondered if maybe, deep down, he'd always hoped to find someone who would force their way past all of the boundaries that he had set, who would see inside him and still care.

It was terrifying. And yet, now that that door had been opened with her, he wasn't entirely sure that he could ever go back.

He had never before had anything—anyone—to cling to when he lost control.

And as he led Boone, the horse he used most often on the trails, out of the stable and he saw Scarlett perched on the edge of a hay bale, swinging her legs and looking like she belonged, his heart did a slow roll in his chest when he realized just how tightly he wanted to cling to her.

“You want to go for a ride?” Logan asked, reaching out a hand to help Scarlett up. She'd told him to put a saddle on only one horse, so he'd assumed she wanted a riding lesson.

“I do.” She let him steady her as she shakily climbed onto
the horse herself, but surprised him when, instead of taking the reins from his hands, she looked down at him with amusement on her face as she adjusted her backpack, turning it so that she carried it on the front side of her body, leaving room for a rider behind her.

“Are you coming?”

“I figured you wanted a riding lesson.” When they had first spoken on the phone, Scarlett had admitted that while she had been on a horse a few times, she really didn't know how to ride, though she was eager to learn.

“I do want lessons. But not today.” Leaning down from the horse, she extended an arm for him to grasp. “This is how I help you get on, too, right?”

Logan laughed; she looked calm and cool, but her fingers were wrapped in a death grip on the reins. He placed his hand in hers, but didn't need to use her for support as he hooked his foot in the stirrup, then swung himself up behind her, reaching around her waist to pry the reins from her hands.

“So Dr. Scarlett Malone is afraid of riding.” Logan adjusted himself on the horse. The two of them in the saddle together made for a tight fit that he didn't mind all that much, since it pressed her ass so sweetly against his cock.

Craning her neck to look over her shoulder, she shot him a prim look. “I most certainly am not afraid of riding a horse. I'm afraid of falling off the horse.”

His spirits rising, Logan nuzzled his face into the soft clouds of her hair. “Good thing I'm here to hold you on, then.”

Whistling to Boone, he started off at a slow walk, letting Scarlett get accustomed to the movement of the animal beneath her. “Where did you plan on us going?”

She shrugged, leaning back into him, seeming content to let the warm morning sunlight shine onto her face. “You told me you liked to ride. So we'll just go ride.”

Lazy contentment stole through him. This was so different from the way they had interacted so far.

It won't last.
That nasty little voice in his head snuck through the door that Scarlett had opened, making him worry more than he ever had before.

He knew it couldn't last—he saw now that that was part of why he had fought Scarlett so hard. Part of him had sensed that he had met his match, that this was the one woman who could make him care.

He already cared.

And then she would leave, because she was not the kind of woman who would be happy staying out here, confined to an existence in the middle of nowhere.

And he couldn't live anywhere else.

Guilt sliced through his contentment, and Logan shifted guiltily in the saddle. He remembered Scarlett asking what he wanted and telling him that she wanted it all.

He had replied that he wasn't sure he could give her that. And now he wondered what would happen if he did and she couldn't keep it.

“What has you so tense?” Leaning back on his chest, Scarlett craned her neck to peer up into his face.

The word
nothing
was on the tip of his tongue—it would be so easy to just brush the worry aside, to pretend that it didn't even exist.

But that would be a lie, and not only would Scarlett detect that in an instant . . . he found that he didn't want to betray her by giving her anything less than the truth.

“I'm thinking about what's going to happen in the future.” He could feel his brow furrowing as he spoke, and he had to hold himself back from smoothing it down with a hand.

He expected Scarlett to zero in on what he
wasn't
saying,
but instead she smiled and reached behind her to smooth those worry lines away herself.

“For today, I just want you to live in the moment.” Those gray eyes caught his stare and held. “Okay?”

The sense of relief that filled him was as warm as the sun. “Thank you.” Giving in to the impulse, he stroked a hand down her cheek, savoring the way her cashmere-soft skin warmed beneath his fingertips.

His hand came to rest on the backpack that Scarlett was carrying in front of her.

It moved beneath his hand.

“And just what do you have in here?” He grinned when a hint of guilt twisted Scarlett's lips. He noticed the bits of fluffy fur sticking through the mesh front of the bag.

“He cried when I headed for the door,” she said, raising her chin in the air. “I might like to use whips on men, but I'm not heartless.”

The pup chose that moment to press its nose against the mesh, letting loose a pitiful whine. Logan couldn't help but laugh.

“Hang on to your puppy,” he advised. Then, with a light snap of the reins, he urged Boone into a canter, causing Scarlett to shriek with alarm and clutch at his thighs . . . which was not a bad side benefit at all, to his way of thinking.

The day was warm, and Logan didn't think he'd ever enjoyed a ride more than this one, with Scarlett snuggled in between his thighs.

By the time they approached the edge of the small lake on his neighbor's property, about a forty-five-minute ride, Logan felt more at peace than he had in years. He slid off Boone's back, then helped Scarlett off. With a smack of his hand on Boone's butt, he sent the horse off for a drink, and Scarlett turned to him with wide eyes.

“This is going to probably sound dumb, coming from a vet,” she started, eyeing the horse that trotted over to the lake's edge. “But shouldn't we be tethering him?”

Logan grinned and reached for the backpack she still wore. His hands skimmed the sides of her breasts, and he savored the sharp inhalation of her breath.

“We're in cougar country. Tying your horse up could mean condemning them to death.” Scarlett's hands tightened on her backpack; Logan pried it from her fingers.

“If he wanders off, he knows his way home.” Unzipping the backpack, Logan removed the bundle of fluff that had been lulled to sleep by the rocking of the horseback ride. “And I don't think that this little guy is likely to stray too far.”

Beneath the pup, he found two slightly squished sandwiches, wrapped in plastic, and two bottles of water. Extracting them, he set out their picnic, and the pup took a few cautious steps, making it to Scarlett's lap before curling back up.

Her fingers ran over him competently, and Logan watched the familiar motions as she checked him over.

“I've been neglecting your internship,” he said, grimacing as he reached a hand out to help still the dog when Scarlett probed his belly. “I'm not being a good supervisor.”

Scarlett cast him an incredulous look, lifting the puppy to kiss his head. “Are you kidding me? I've learned a ton out here.”

Logan scowled down at one of the sandwiches as he unwrapped it, then handed it Scarlett. “It feels like we haven't done much work.”

And even when he was working, it was . . . easier. Lighter, because he carried thoughts of her with him throughout the day.

“Excuse me, but I've learned lots of things I never would have in the hospital.” Playfully, she poked him in the side,
then bit into her sandwich. “I now know how to suction out a horse's nose. You think they teach that in college?”

Logan laughed; she always managed to tease him out of the serious moods, away from the darkness that still stole over him from time to time, no matter how many years passed.

“And we actually have been keeping to a pretty regular schedule,” she reminded him, her voice mild. “Taking a Saturday off isn't going to kill you.”

He knew that—he even did it himself from time to time. But it was hard to accept that he'd been working as hard as he always had, when it didn't feel like it anymore.

“Work can be fun, you know.” Her voice was light, but Logan heard the underlying seriousness. “Some people actually prefer it that way.”

Her attention was caught by the pup, who had gotten brave enough to trot a little ways off, and this time, Logan didn't push to tell her the full truth—that he'd lived so long by himself, entrenched in the way he needed to do things, that having lightness in his life just felt wrong.

“Six! That's far enough.” Crawling after the dog, Scarlett snagged him, then returned to her cross-legged position by Logan.

“Six?” Logan asked, willingly letting himself be pulled out of his thoughts.

“See if you can figure that one out.” Scarlett handed over the squirming bundle.

Eyes narrowing at the challenge, Logan ran his hands over the dog, checking him—and it was a him—over with the same thoroughness that Scarlett had used.

When he came to the left front paw, he paused, then grinned.

“Six toes.” The grin and the softness in her eyes when she
looked at Six told Logan that Mongo was going to have a new roommate. At least for as long as Scarlett stayed.

But he had to remember that it wouldn't be for more than a year. She had big plans to open an animal hospital back in Vegas, and he wouldn't be the one to stand in the way of that. Not even inadvertently by consuming time that should be spent training her.

“Starting Monday, we need to make sure to keep all of . . . this . . . outside of work.” He started, his heart clutching in his chest when he noted her frown. Reaching over, he stroked his finger down her nose. “For your future, Scarlett. Humor me.”

Frowning, she nodded, and he forced himself to smile, even though the thought reverberating around his brain made him wince.

Your future once you've left. Your future without me.

T
wo weeks had passed, filled with work, sex, and easy companionship—well, easy most of the time.

It was interesting, trying to figure out how they got along when the whips and chains weren't present. But the more that Scarlett got to know her rough-around-the-edges submissive, the more she wanted from him.

It made her a little bit uncomfortable—her life plans hadn't included becoming involved with a man who ferociously avoided cities, towns, even places where lots of people would be under one roof.

He hadn't told her anything about why he lived way out where he did, or why he was so strongly claustrophobic, and until he offered the information freely, she wouldn't ask.

It had to do with his dreams, though; she was sure of it. He didn't have them every night, but about once a week he would stiffen in terror beside her, muttering about letting him out, letting him free.

And while Scarlett still hoped that he would share that secret part of himself with her, she was pretty sure that even sharing wouldn't heal his need for open space.

Could she be happy here? She didn't know. Her anxiety over being able to handle Logan's demons lessened as she waited—and waited—for him to share them with her.

But instead she worried about what would happen if they could make it work.

Was she being ridiculous, thinking so very far ahead? But
still, she had gone ahead and made her demand and wondered how he would react.

I want you to take me on a date.

Even now, as she waited for Logan to respond, she tried to push away that thread of insecurity. It would work or it wouldn't, and if it didn't, she would grieve and try to move on, no matter how much the man in front of her had changed her life.

But she was tainting the time they had now by forever wondering and doubting.

Forcing herself back into the present, she raised her eyebrows and tapped her foot when Logan leaned around the edge of the stall where he was rubbing down Boone to look at her, perplexed.

“What?” he asked, and Scarlett scowled, straightening.

“You heard me just fine,” she told him. Reaching for a length of rope that hung on the barn wall, she coiled it around her fist and elbow, watching Logan's eyes darken as his mind strayed to exactly the place she'd intended for it to go.

“If you can't be bothered to listen to what your Mistress says, then maybe we need to have a little reminder lesson on how a good sub behaves.” She swung the end of the rope back and forth, saw interest spark on his face.

They had made love at least twice a day since the night that Luca and Bren had visited, and while she didn't use kink props every time, her toy bag was still a big part of their sex life.

But her insides heated at the thought of another meticulously plotted scene, and she could see that Logan felt the same.

She filed that away for future use.

“We're still on the clock here,
Mistress
.” Finishing with Boone, Logan stood and wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. When he sauntered to her, sweat highlighting the
planes of the chest she had full access to since she'd ordered him to work with no shirt on, she felt her pulse trip pleasantly at the base of her throat.

“So maybe it's you who needs a lesson.” He took the rope from her hands, crowded right up into her space. Trailing the frayed ends of the hemp down her cheek, between her breasts, he smirked when she sucked in a breath.

“Insolent submissive.” She couldn't help but grin as she pushed him away. “Remember how much you hated spanking me? It would never work.”

Logan coiled the rope neatly and hung it back on the wall as he tracked her movements with his eyes. “You're partially right. I could never punish you. I hated every one of those marks that I laid on you, and I won't do it again.”

His gaze took on a predatory glint as he started to stalk toward her slowly. Scarlett planted her feet and tilted her chin up, refusing to retreat even an inch.

Pulling her flush against his body, he ran a finger along the length of her collarbone, then slid his hands down her body, and with a light touch, cuffed her hands in front of her, her wrists caught in his long fingers.

“But I might not mind having you in some light restraints. Keep you in place so that I could really explore you. Could find all the places on that luscious body of yours that make you scream.”

Scarlett held perfectly still until he released her, then stepped back. Her gut told her that this time he wasn't testing her. This was a fantasy for him.

“Perhaps that's something we'll explore later,” she said lightly, leaning forward to sink her teeth into his biceps hard enough to leave a mark. Marking him as hers.

He jumped at the sudden bite of pain, but then she saw heat flash in his eyes. “We could explore it now.”

“On the clock, remember?” Teasingly, she slipped out of his reach, running through the barn door before he could catch her. “And you have a date to plan.”

“When?” he called after her, sounding somewhat puzzled with the freedom she'd given him. Though the rigidity in their sexual roles had relaxed somewhat since that night when Logan had surrendered so beautifully to her, Scarlett had found that he still was the most relaxed when their out-of-work activities were planned by her.

“Friday.” Thinking of the way he'd challenged her moments earlier by binding her wrists with his fingers, she decided it was again time to push him out of his comfort zone a bit. And if he did well, then maybe she'd reward him the way he wanted.

Maybe. Her heart pounded at the very idea of letting someone else take control.

“It's all up to you.”

S
carlett enjoyed watching Logan put his mind to the task over the next few days. She would catch him watching her, paying excruciating attention to detail as she selected clothing in the morning, or even just when she chose a flavor of tea.

He could snap at her one moment for disagreeing with him over a potential treatment for a sick dog on a house call, and the next he would be watching her again, even as his blue eyes were darkened by his scowl of irritation.

She imagined that some would say she had become a Domme because she wanted to exert control over her life after the chaos of her early years in the foster system. Perhaps that had played a part in her choices, but Scarlett was more inclined to think that she was just one of those people who needed something that the vanilla world couldn't offer.

Watching Logan, she often found herself puzzling over which camp he fell into—was he a sexual submissive because of whatever haunted him? Or was he the same as she was, just drawn to something a bit left of the norm when it came to sex?

The attention to detail he applied to planning their date told her that in the end, it didn't really matter. And it no longer even seemed strange to her, to have this bossy, domineering man find ultimate pleasure when she took away his choices.

It was just . . . Logan.

Friday night, three weeks after Luca and Bren had visited, Scarlett descended the stairs from her bedroom. Her new pink skirt—something she'd been surprised to find in town—swished around her knees, and the clingy fabric of her black top made her feel very aware of herself as a female, something that was all too easy to forget out here in cowboy territory.

Logan had asked her to wear a skirt for their date. She wondered where they were going. Wondered how he would handle being in any kind of crowd.

“Wow.” Logan exited the kitchen just as she stepped off the last stair. His eyes devoured every inch of her—the girly skirt, the length of her legs, elongated in her high-heeled sandals, the way her breasts pressed against the clingy fabric of her top.

A fire began a slow burn inside of her. Even without any of the trappings of kink, she wanted this man.

“You look absolutely edible.” He made his way to her slowly, hands shoved in his back pockets in a way that made the denim of his jeans stretch tightly over his impressive package. Though he didn't touch her, he dipped his head and sniffed at her perfume. “
Mmm
. Vanilla.”

Scarlett watched, fascinated as his cock began to swell, pressing against the front of those jeans.

“If I'd known that smell gets you hard, I'd have started
baking cupcakes for breakfast every morning, just to get you worked up.” She growled a warning when he took her hand, but he pressed it over his growing cock regardless.

“Everything about you gets me worked up,” he said simply, and Scarlett's temper was defused. He wasn't trying to take control; he was paying her a compliment.

Her heart melted a little bit, but she swallowed it back. They would both get more out of this evening if they played their roles, his the submissive eager to please, hers the Mistress with her slave.

“Well, I hope you can still feed me if you're worked up.” She grinned up at him then, and to please herself, linked her hand in his.

“You'll just have to come and see.” Looking awfully pleased with himself, Logan pulled a bandanna from his pocket and held it up for her to see. “May I?”

Scarlett nodded, though she didn't much care for the idea of being blindfolded. She wasn't overly comfortable with anything that spoke of submission.

But this whole exercise was for Logan, so she would suck it up. Plus, somehow over the weeks since she had met him, she had come to trust him with almost anything.

Yes, almost anything, she thought as he led her through the kitchen and into what she knew would be the living room. She rubbed a hand over her heart, the one thing she still tried to hold close to herself, as Logan carefully guided her across the room and helped her to sit on what she discovered was the couch.

“Sorry about the blindfold. I wanted you to see it all at once.” His fingers slid between the worn cotton and the back of her head. “And I asked Luca about a few things. I don't think that's cheating,” he added in a rush, his voice a growl that
dared her to contradict him as he pulled the blindfold away from her eyes.

“Oh!” Her senses were assaulted as she looked around the room, her mouth falling open in shock.

The simple living room had been transformed. White fairy lights twinkled from the mantel, the backs of chairs, the legs of the furniture. Candles illuminated the places that the fairy lights couldn't reach, and the combination of the soft white electric lights and the golden glow of the flames was stunning.

And somehow . . . somehow he had given the impression of people . . . a tall shadow here, a couple chatting there. Squinting through the low light, Scarlett saw that he had brought in various odds and ends from the barn—horseshoes, grooming tools, a saddlebag. He had arranged them behind the pillar candles in clever ways, lending to the impression that they were in a quiet restaurant, somewhere back in Vegas.

“I know you miss the city.” Logan let go of Scarlett's hand to gesture to the table. Scarlett was stunned to see that Logan, the man who was most comfortable throwing a steak on the grill or slapping together a sandwich, had set out not just a bowl of pasta and another of salad, but a platter of some kind of hors d'oeuvres and even a martini glass filled with pink liquid, the vessel so new that he'd forgotten to take the price tag off.

More than that, he had laid out on the floor a sheet of plywood painted glossy black, surrounded by yet more lights. Scarlett recognized what it was instantly, and her heart leapt into her throat.

A dance floor. He had made her a dance floor.

At a complete loss for words, she looked at him, her heart in her throat.

“Did I . . . Do you like it?” The man stood tall and had
enough muscles to make Superman feel threatened. And yet when he looked at her like that, Scarlett understood how vulnerable he felt, how much this man who radiated confidence in so many other aspects of his life had put himself on the line.

And it was all for her.

Turning to the stereo that was set along the wall, Logan started some music. Scarlett cocked her head as she heard the first few notes—it was an older song, one that had been big when she was back in junior high, about lightning crashing, old mothers dying.

But she had heard it more recently . . . The memory was tickling at her mind.

“This is what was playing at Veritas the first moment I set eyes on you inside.” Logan's words were raw with emotion, and she could see everything that she was feeling reflected back at her in his eyes.

“I can't believe you remember that.” When he held out a hand, she went to him quickly, muscles quivering.

This feeling—this was new. She'd had strong feelings for men before, had experienced infatuation, attraction, lust.

This didn't fall neatly into any of those categories.

“Dance with me.” Wordlessly, Scarlett reached for the hand that Logan held out for her, let herself be folded into his arms. She was surprised when he placed one hand at the small of her back, folded the other in his, and moved her into a simple but smooth step.

“You know how to dance?” She couldn't help the shock in her voice. She kept thinking she was reaching the core of him, discovering all but that one most hidden facet, and then he would surprise her with something like this.

“This is pretty much the extent of it.” Bending, he pressed his lips into her hair. “I had a girlfriend when I was just a kid who dragged me to a dance class. This one thing stuck.”

“You liked bossy women even back then, huh?” Scarlett teased him as she savored the romantic moment. Leaning back so that she could see his face, she ran her hand over his cheek, a tender gesture to match the emotions swirling inside her.

“I guess I did.” He grinned. “And that actually reminds me.” As the song came to an end, he released his hold on her waist and reached into his back pocket