Eclipse of the Heart (17 page)

She opened her eyes to see Logan rise to his feet. Alarm
barreled through her. Was he done with her? Would he make another of his abrupt
departures? She glanced up at him, barely aware of what she was doing.

"That's quite an effective look of appeal," he
said, his voice low. "I think I'm flattered."

She tried to clear her thoughts. "I should be going
home, I think."

He chuckled. "Your words lack a certain note of
conviction."

"Are you done with dessert?"

"The ice cream is all gone, I'm afraid." He bent
over and scooped her up in his arms. "But licking is still on the
menu."

Her head swam as he turned her and laid her on the dining
room table. Her feet dangled over the edge, unbalancing her, until he grasped
her thighs and moved them apart. The move stabilized her, but also increased
her vulnerability.

Logan lifted her skirt and she stiffened in alarm. But he
immediately trailed his hands down her legs until he reached her feet. He
removed her shoes, dropping them to the Oriental carpet. He cupped her feet in
his big hands.

He began massaging her—feet? Surprise skittered through her.
She knew she was laid out on his dining room table, her breasts exposed, her
skirt hiked up.

But her panties still covered her, and he seemed interested
only in her feet. No man had ever made such a surprising move.

She relaxed, as much as she could when her body was still
drawn tight with an unfulfilled need. But the foot massage was heavenly.

She let her legs fall open a bit more. Or had he widened the
gap between her feet?

No matter. He wasn't doing anything alarming. Yes, he'd
played with her breasts. But the pleasure had been irresistible. The foot
massage was almost equally as delicious.

His hands massaged her soles while he pressed a kiss to one
knee, and then the other. Had he nudged her legs further apart again?

She murmured what might have been a small protest.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll never do
anything you don't want."

That was true. She relaxed a bit more as she remembered all the
times he'd left her, when she'd thought he might make a pass at her.

The only niggle of worry that wormed its way through her
pleasure was the fear that he'd stop too soon. She wasn't ready quite yet to
halt this pleasure.

She would stop him at some point.

She had to.

But not yet.

His strong fingers moved up to her toes and he began
massaging each one individually, starting with her smallest toe.
Oooh
, that
felt good. Every so often, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her legs. She
scarcely noticed when the kiss landed on her thighs. It was just part of his
pattern.

By the time he finished with her foot massage, her toes were
curling in delight, a sensation she'd never experienced.

He raised his head and looked up at her. "You look so
wanton," he said.
"Quite delightful."
A
flush rode high on his cheeks.

"Are we done?"

"Not yet." His lips curved slowly. "I have
one more thing I want to do." He placed his hands on her hips, paused for
an infinitesimal moment, and then slowly peeled her underpants down her legs.

One more thing?
Then would he stop?
Amanda didn't move, even as she silently begged him to touch her body again. He
still had all his clothes on. It didn't seem he had any intention of removing
them. She was still safe.

"Yes," he said, "that's better."

Amanda opened her eyes to see him staring at her.

"Mandy," he said on a long breath. "You have
no idea what you do to me." He placed one strong hand at the top of each
of her thighs, and slowly pushed her open.

"Logan," she gasped. She was totally exposed to
him and the sensation of being on display jolted her with excitement. She had
to stop him now.

He lowered his head and kissed her right at the opening
between her legs.

Then he licked her.

She whimpered, as her brain moved in the same dizzying circles
as his tongue. Except that her brain was trying to tell her one thing, and the
spot between her legs was clinging to something else entirely— the joy he was
giving her.

Her entire body buzzed with pleasure from that one spot of
contact. Then his fingers entered her, strong and sure. First one, testing her,
exploring.
Then, another, filling her, pushing upward
and stroking in and out.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.

She convulsed.

Over and over.

Until she finally sighed out his name and grasped his head
to stop him, or to have something to hold onto. She feared she might pass out.

He raised his head, his gaze meeting hers. She shifted her
eyes away as the buzzing in her head continued to distract her. How had this
happened? What had she been thinking?

Logan stood up and pressed himself between her thighs. The
wool of his pants was soft, but beneath them was a hardness that pulsed with
urgency.

Amanda lifted one hand. "Help me sit up." When she
was vertical, she put her hands on his waist and leaned into him. His hard heat
pressed into her nakedness. She sighed with contentment, and then was betrayed
into a giggle. If Rosie could only see her now—

He frowned. "Are you drunk?"

Her eyes flew open.
"Of course
not."

"We have to stop now if you are." But he didn't
move away.

"What? You're developing a conscience?" Starched
cotton slid over her hands as her fingers drifted inside the buttons of his
shirt and she touched his hot skin.

 "I always have a conscience." He sucked in a
sharp breath.
"Though it's receding quickly right
now."

She moved down his smooth, muscular abs until she reached
rough hair that fanned outward.

Logan's harsh breathing kicked up a notch.

She jerked her hands out from under his shirt, but couldn't
resist
arrowing
her thumbs downward, along the side
of his zipper. His wool pants were soft, dense. His erection poked up and out
at her.

"You don't want me to stop, do you?" she asked.

"God, no."
He closed his
eyes and murmured, "I can't help noticing you're not behaving in character
here."

"You don't really know me, I don't think." She'd
wanted him from the first moment she stepped into his office and saw him
sitting behind his desk, calm, powerful, intense. His mere presence had called
out to something deep inside her. She'd never expected to do anything about her
attraction, but now that she was here in his home, just the two of them, some
barrier within her had crumbled away. The values and morals she'd thought were
strong and impenetrable had turned out to be as fleeting as bubbles in
champagne.

Passion was a much stronger force than she'd ever imagined.
Sitting here on the edge of his table, trembling in the aftermath of a powerful
orgasm, she still wanted more.

Logan snapped his eyes open and their gazes collided.

"I'd like to know you better," he said.

She stared into his face as she heard the sound of a zipper.
She was aware of the condom being opened. She was incapable of stopping him,
when all she wanted was to be as close as possible with him, to combine their
bodies in a heated bliss that would never end.

Then she felt the pressure, the smooth, heated strength
invading her. He pushed her thighs wider, and his fingers began to stroke her.
He was surprisingly gentle.

She lifted her hips.

"Finally," he said in a guttural voice as he
surged into her.

And Amanda knew she'd made a terrible mistake.

Logan watched Amanda as he began to pump into her. A spasm
had crossed her face right when he entered her, and he'd wondered if maybe he
was hurting her, but then she'd grabbed his arms and clung to him as he angled
his thrusts, looking for the sweet spot. Her eyes glazed over when he found it,
and he settled in to ride it out.

But it didn't take long, mere seconds, before she came
again, clutching him so that he barely held on until she finished. He allowed
himself to follow immediately. The sharp burst of rapture consumed him so that
he barely heard the dishes clanking together as he pounded her against the
table. Something hit the floor, but he only cared about pushing further into
her wet warmth, sheathing himself in her yielding, female body.

It had been too long for him and the pleasure reverberated
throughout him, from his head to his toes. He consumed, and was consumed. His
body thundered and it trembled.

He watched Amanda, watched the expressions on her face. Male
pride thundered through him. He'd done that to her. He'd pounded her into that
ecstasy.

But something else whispered a more seductive song in his
brain. She was so enchanting. Her hair fanned out on the tablecloth, the silken
strands curved like notes of a sweet song. A wash of emotion threatened to
spill over him. He pushed it back.

He dropped a kiss to her lips, but it wasn't enough, and he
knew it.

She deserved better.

He was no good for her. He was a cold bastard who couldn't,
and didn't want to, give her what she deserved. He'd take whatever she freely
gave. He'd even come back for more.

But, in the end, he'd leave.

On that thought, he pulled out.

"Wait a sec," he said, pulling up his pants and
heading for the kitchen to dispose of the condom.

When he returned, she was standing by the table. She'd
emptied the half-glass of dessert wine he'd poured for her earlier. He was glad
he'd been careful about the wine. He wanted her again, and the look on her face
said she was having second thoughts. At least he didn't have to worry that
alcohol was clouding her brain.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around her. "You
are incredibly sexy," he murmured into her ear.

"We made a big mistake," she whispered.

"It's done now. Don't look back." He pressed a
kiss to the curve of her neck. "Come on." He licked her. "We
tried hard and fast. Let's try slow and easy."

She shivered. "Logan—"

"This is not something that calls for your crackerjack
analytical skills." He swept her up into his arms. Her still-unbuttoned
blouse fell open, and his heart almost stopped. She had the best tits he'd ever
seen, and he'd seen some good ones.

"Mandy." He raised her, and buried his face
between those soft curves. "Come with me."

She pressed her lips against his neck. He heard himself
groan. Her teeth grazed his skin, here and there, little nips that marked him
somewhere deep inside.

Since she didn't answer, he began walking. He hadn't had
near enough of her. Unless she gave any indication she wanted him to stop, he
intended to keep her in his bed all night long.

When they reached his room, he dropped her lightly on the
king-sized bed, and began to take off his shirt. She watched him, a slight
frown creasing her forehead, her eyes uncertain. He knew this was a critical
moment, when she would decide whether to stay or go. He kicked off his shoes
and stepped out of his trousers.

Her gaze swept over him. He stood there and let her look. It
was her decision. But he didn't mind doing whatever he could to entice her.

He touched her wrist. "I want to undress you."

She shivered. "Why do you have to be so hot?"

"Now that's not what I expected to hear." He
laughed.

"You must have heard it before."

He shrugged. Words from paid companions meant nothing to him
and, in any case, he was far more focused on her than on himself. He stepped
closer to the bed and leaned over her. The partially opened blouse was testing
his control. He pushed the sides open. "Let's get rid of this."

Lifting her shoulders, he removed the blouse and bra in one
quick motion. When he set her back on the bed, he followed her down. That
simple move of pursuit set him on fire.

He opened his mouth on hers and swept in with his tongue. He
grasped both breasts, forcing himself to be gentle, when he wanted to be rough,
wanted to wipe away the uncertainty in her gaze, wanted to hear her cry out in
ecstasy. She'd been quiet, so far, and he could feel her holding herself back.
While his mind approved – after all, he was doing the same thing – his
testosterone-fueled cave man wanted her convulsing and clinging like she'd
never let go.

Luckily, he knew how to achieve that goal.

He flipped her onto her stomach and pressed kisses to the
back of her neck. He used his teeth, biting her until he realized his control
was slipping. He'd never wanted to mark a woman the way he wanted to mark
Mandy, as if he were a lion choosing his mate, and showing the proof to the
world.

He eased up and turned her back over.

"I feel dizzy," she whispered.

"I'm sorry. I was a little rough."

Her breasts enticed him and he began to kiss and lick them,
but tenderly. He didn't want her to panic. The lust that was roaring through
him was hot enough to burn everything in its path if he wasn't careful. He
forced himself to be gentle, teasing her by avoiding her nipples. He didn't
relent until she began to whimper and arch her back.

Then he latched onto one and sucked, reveling in the sharp
points that stabbed his mouth. She was grabbing him anywhere she could.
His head.
His shoulders.
Her
fingernails clawed his back.

Reaching with one hand, he yanked open the nightstand
drawer. As much as he hated condoms, he would never have sex without that
protection preventing another life from invading his. He slipped it on.

Then he threw a leg over her and got up on his knees, caging
her. He yanked up her skirt, feeling a moment of regret that he hadn't gotten
it off her. But his need was too great.