Southern Hospitality (12 page)

When they reached the motor home, Logan took the keys from her and opened the door. He waved her up the steps without a word. Once inside, he quickly found the canvas tote bag he’d brought and stored behind the driver’s seat. Tory stood in the middle of the carpeted living area, not sure what to do next. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she braced herself for whatever was going to happen next.

“Well, I’m all set. Do you need any help making up your bed?” Logan turned to her, his eyebrows raised in mild inquiry.

“Ah, no. I just have to pull out the couch that’s along the back.” Even in the bright overhead light she couldn’t detect any hidden meaning in his words and his face was that of a man who didn’t have a care in the world.

“Fine. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

He was gone before Tory realized it. The outside door shut with a mocking click. She dropped her arms and stared in amazement, feeling like an absolute fool. He had to know she was expecting him to kiss her, or at least try, and she’d been planning on how to avoid it. In one furious stride, she reached the door and snapped the lock. Then she marched over to the couch in two steps, throwing herself down on the striped cushion.

“What’s he up to now?” she asked the empty room, drawing her knees up to her chin.
And why am I so upset that he didn’t even try to touch me?

Knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer, she jumped to her feet again. If she kept busy, she wouldn’t have to think about
him.
Unfortunately, her temper helped her secure the Winnebago for sleeping in record time. The bed was open and the screen placed behind the driver’s seat in a matter of minutes. Ten minutes later she had her face washed, teeth brushed, and was pulling on her nightshirt.

She stared at the bed with a jaundiced eye, knowing that she wasn’t ready to go to sleep. The only reading material available was two coloring books that belonged to Ty Daniel and Amanda Sue. Why didn’t she pack a book this morning? She knew the answer, the same answer to everything else in her life for the last four days—Logan Winchester Herrington, VI. She’d been working up her nerve to see him again while she packed and barely remembered the necessities.

There wasn’t anything else to do but go to bed. She lay in the dark listening to the crickets and an occasional car passing on the road in front of the motel. Now he was going to give her insomnia because she knew if she closed her eyes, Logan would play a prominent part in her dreams.

“Damn him,” she muttered, punching at her pillow, then turning on her side. Closing her eyes, she was determined she wasn’t going to let the man ruin her sleep, or her peace of mind. She should be relieved that he’d suddenly lost interest in her. That’s what she’d wanted, and it meant she’d have her nice, uncomplicated life back again. For some reason, the prospect wasn’t all that attractive.

“With only ten women in a group of some forty men, Harve had to get lucky,” Logan groused. His mood didn’t improve at the sound of a deep, masculine chuckle accompanied by a high-pitched giggle in the room behind him. He closed the door, shivering in the cool night air. Harve had been patient enough to let him pull on his clothes and grab his bag.

He looked around the parking lot that was as quiet as a graveyard. There wasn’t a light on anywhere in the Cozy Grove Motel, except for three parking lot lights that hadn’t burned out. Leaning against the porch post, he stared morosely at the Winnebago where it stood out among the other parked vehicles. All his good intentions had gone for naught. He wasn’t about to wait outside until Harve and his lady friend were done, and he wasn’t going down to the headquarters room when he had the keys to the motor home in his pocket.

He could sleep in the captain’s chair, he decided, crossing the pavement that separated him from the one place he really wanted to be. But he had to think this out. The floor plan was clear in his mind. He’d simply go in, let his eyes adjust to the darkness, walk over to the chair, then settle in for the night. Tory wouldn’t even know he was there until morning. Looking at his watch, he amended that to a couple of hours.

The door opened without a sound and he stepped into the Winnebago, carefully pulling the door shut and locking it. He could hear Tory’s deep breathing, assuring him she was asleep as he turned in the direction of the chair. His first step brought him up short, his shin connecting with the side of the bed and knocking him off balance. His flailing hand grasped soft, feminine skin instead of the mattress as he expected.

Before he could recover from his fall, he was under attack. A face full of cotton pillowcase muffled his yelp of surprise, then suddenly he could breathe again. He gratefully sucked air into his lungs. Knowing Tory was winding up for another blow with her down-filled bludgeon, he reached out blindly to avert another attack. It was a mistake. His hand closed over the soft swell of her breast, rather than one of her arms. He hadn’t realized she’d risen to her knees.

Beneath his hand Logan could feel her filling her lungs in preparation for what would probably be a bloodcurdling scream. “Tory, it’s me, for god’s sake.”

“So what?” she snarled after a moment’s hesitation. The pillow connected with his side, knocking him over into the tangled sheets. She continued to pummel him as he tried to push himself up again. The air was filled with gasps and groans as he barely gained some leverage on the soft cushion, only to have Tory hit him once more. Each time he almost succeeded, his balance was destroyed by another volley.

Finally, frustrated by his inability to move, he changed his tactics. Lying perfectly still, he waited. When the pillow began its next descent, he rolled onto his back and grabbed it, giving it a sharp tug. He pulled it out of Tory’s hands. His plan was more successful than he had anticipated.

The pillow went sailing over the side of the bed, and his arms were filled with a furious female, who was cursing a blue streak. He closed the circle of his arms as a safeguard while he caught his breath. Involuntarily, a chuckle of triumph escaped his lips, but it was quickly drowned out by a groan of pleasure as Tory squirmed against him.

“Honey, this isn’t going to help at all,” he murmured directly into her ear.

“I’m not trying to help, you jerk,” she snapped back, still trying to free her arms which he had trapped against her sides.
This fool isn’t going to win so easily.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She barely had time to register his warning before she found herself flat on her back, pinned to the mattress by a lean, hard muscled body.

“Will you listen to me? I only wanted—”

“I know what you want. I woke up with your hand snaking up my hip, didn’t I?” She couldn’t move with his hands shackling her wrists, his hips pushing her lower body into the mattress. She stopped struggling, waiting for him to relax his grip for just a second.

“I just came in to sleep in the chair,” he said and gave her the chance she’d been waiting for as he shifted slightly, taking some of his weight off her by bracing himself on his elbows. “Harve brought a guest back to the room.”

Tory’s answer was a gasp of surprise. She only managed to make her predicament worse. Shifting her hips brought her into intimate contact with his burgeoning desire, with Logan’s leg resting between her own. Only the thin barrier of her nylon panties and his cotton slacks separated her from the pulsing heat.

“Let me up, Logan,” she demanded, trying to ignore the molten lava that seemed to suffuse her body from low in her abdomen.

“Would you let me explain, please? I didn’t intend this to happen.” His voice now had an edge to it, although Tory couldn’t figure out what he had to be angry about. It was too dark to see his expression. The only light came from the window high above the bed. She was having trouble concentrating with his thumbs stroking the tender skin on the underside of her wrists.

“A likely story. I should’ve been suspicious when you walked out of here earlier with barely a goodnight,” she returned, aggravated that her own voice sounded breathless and slightly hoarse. She arched her back in another bid for freedom and immediately regretted it. The swollen peaks of her breasts brushed against the firm wall of his chest, sending a burst of electricity through her, his breath moist and warm on her face. “Did you really think you could sneak back in here and…and, have your way with me?”

“Have my what? Are you talking in your sleep?”

Tory couldn’t believe it. He was actually laughing at her. His amusement only added to her frustrations. “No, I’m wide awake
now,
thanks to your unexpected visit. I said, have your way with me.”

“Okay, Victoria Camille Planchet, if that’s what you want,” Logan returned, his tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

Tory didn’t have time to answer, his lips were warm and persuasive against hers. He allowed her to feel his weight again, laying full length along her body. She realized that they fit together perfectly before she gave herself up to the sorcery of his kiss. Anything that felt and tasted this good had to be black magic because it seemed to sap her strength and any further thought of resistance.

He freed her wrists, but she didn’t care as his fingers skated over her shoulders and down her rib cage. In response, she threaded her fingers into his golden-brown mane, pulling him closer. Logan slipped one hand under the hem of her nightshirt where it was bunched up at her hip. This time she welcomed the touch of his hand on her flushed skin, trailing sparks of want and need as his palm slid upward. Brazenly, she pressed her aching breast into his palm in hopes that it would satisfy some basic unknown desire for his touch.

Logan groaned against the sweetness of Tory’s lips as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He moved to help her, but she pushed his hand away. Then the soft pads of her fingers were running over him, quickly finding his flat nipples, making him wonder if he would explode from the desire he was trying to contain. He wanted to go slowly and gently, but Tory made him experience an urgency that was totally foreign to him. In a matter of seconds, he had her nightshirt off, wanting desperately to feel her delicate breasts naked against his skin.

His urgency was answered by Tory’s feverish hands feathering down his back to dip beneath the waistband of his slacks. Lowering his head he sipped and tasted the gentle slope of her breast, feeling almost lightheaded at her small murmurs of approval. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, but he wanted to assure himself that Tory was at the same level of expectancy. His hand was unsteady as it slipped beneath the thin barrier of her panties, quickly finding the moist, warm core of her femininity.

“Logan, please.”

The whispered plea took him over the edge of indecision. He rolled to his side without breaking contact with the tantalizing woman in his arms. Together they unfastened his slacks, awkwardly pulling them off in a nonsensical battle of possession for the garment. Fleetingly, Logan wondered what Tory would have to say about the silver envelope he pulled from his pocket, evidence of some forethought on his part, even though he hadn’t anticipated needing it so soon.

Then all rational thought was forgotten as he removed the scrap of nylon that was the last barrier between them. Tory felt like she was in a high-speed car racing out of control toward a steep cliff. She was exhilarated by the feeling rather than frightened, opening her arms to Logan’s taut, aroused body as he settled between her legs. He entered her slowly, his lips seeking hers, possessing her completely, irrevocably.

He began moving leisurely, but both of them were impatient for the explosive peak of fulfillment. Tory urged his steady movements, clutching his firm hips to express her need, meeting each thrust of his hips and tongue as a willing partner in the passionate dance. Her body was straining to reach the pinnacle as she murmured his name in a litany that Logan answered with provocative promises. Suddenly she was there, trembling on the brink of a fantastic discovery.

Her mind and body melted into one mass of trembling reaction to Logan’s final thrust as he called out her name in a hoarse voice. Descending slowly from the amazing journey of pure sensation, she cradled his damp head against her breast, tenderly smoothing tendrils of his golden-brown hair away from his temple. Exhausted from the heat of battle and desire, her heavy eyelids drifted shut, a sigh of gratification escaping her kiss-swollen lips.

Chapter Six

Tory sat with her knees drawn up under her chin, glaring at the sleeping man just a few feet away in her bed. Only his profile and the smooth plane of his back were visible above the rumpled sheets. His right arm was flung out to the side, the side of the bed where she’d been sleeping until a half hour ago. He was smiling in his sleep. She didn’t want to think about that satisfied smile, or what had made a shambles of the bedding. She had a problem.

The problem looked dignified in his sleep, his profile perfectly etched against the white pillowcase. He didn’t look defenseless or innocent, his natural arrogance somehow clinging to him, even when unconscious. How could he sleep at a time like this? Didn’t he know that she had a few pithy things to say about what happened last night?

She wasn’t going to sit here looking at his perfectly contoured back, remembering that she’d explored and memorized every muscle and sinew during the night. How long was he going to sleep? Surely she hadn’t worn him out? Dismissing the last thought as subversive, Tory looked around for something, anything, that would help her. Staring thoughtfully at Ty Daniel’s coloring book for a minute, she turned to study Logan’s slumbering form once more.