Logan's Outlaw (20 page)

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Authors: Elaine Levine

BOOK: Logan's Outlaw
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She kissed each of the scratches on his chest. “You're a brave man to sleep with me again.”
“Honey”—he lifted her chin so that he could see her face—“your demons aren't ready to give up their hold on you. We aren't out of the woods just yet.” He brushed the white-blond hair from her face. “But I see the path out even if you don't. I won't leave you in the woods. Just don't let go of my hand.”
She took his hand, leading him up into the wagon. “Let's sleep. Then run again in the night.”
 
“Logan,” a sweet voice whispered into his dream. “Wake up. It's time to run.” He opened his eyes to find Sarah leaning over him, one hand on his chest. He couldn't see much of her expression in the dark. She was wide awake, but still warm from sleep. He smiled as he ran a hand up her arm. Cupping the back of her nape, he drew her to him.
“Now?” he asked, his mouth against hers.
“Now.”
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“No. I just want to run.”
“Hand me my moccasins. Get yours on.”
They climbed out of the wagon, wearing only their underclothes. The cool night air slipped around them. There was a faint hint of light in the eastern sky. It had to be nearly 4 a.m., Logan thought.
“Which way?” he asked Sarah.
She turned her back to the east and walked backward, grinning at Logan. “Toward the sunrise. We'll be the first to see it this morning.” She spun on her heel and took off, settling into a comfortable pace. It was easier to run in just her drawers and camisole. She could feel the wind slip over her skin. Neither of them spoke; they just ran in silence, at one with the land and the air and the world around them.
The pale glow at the far horizon deepened, brightened. Logan looked over at Sarah, amazed at her endurance. When light began to penetrate the dark, he could make out the pink color of her cheeks. She'd tied her hair back, but several silky strands pulled free and blew back from her face.
She slowed down, then stopped. He did the same. They were both breathing heavily, steaming into the air around them. The day would be blazing hot, but the nights were still cold, the chill lingering into the morning.
She set her hands on her hips and faced the slowly brightening horizon. Pastel colors washed over the land, tinting her white cotton undergarments in lavenders and pinks. She was something to see. He couldn't stop staring at her. All the fear was gone from her face as she watched so expectantly for a dawn that was still hours away.
What would he give to have her look at him that way? “We should head back.”
She looked at him and nodded, but neither of them turned back to the wagon. Instead, she took a step toward him. His body tightened. Heat pooled in his groin at the intent look on her face. His mind told him to turn away, start walking. Desire held him rooted to the spot. She pressed her palms against his ribs. He sucked in a breath. Their run had brought a sheen of sweat to his skin, which the air was now cooling. Her hands were hot against his skin.
He tried to stay still, tried to know her only by scent and not by touch, not by his mouth, not by his skin. He drew her sweet scent into his lungs, locking it inside him until his lungs screamed for more. She stepped closer. He shut his eyes, hiding from the ache that rose from his heart. She leaned forward. He felt her heat. Her lips pressed against his skin. A whisper only. Like butterfly wings. Barely there.
Slowly, slowly, he lifted his hands, afraid to cage her in his grip, afraid she would step away, afraid of how much he needed her. God, his heart was tearing apart. He dragged the tips of his fingers up her back, over the thin cotton of her camisole. He bent his head over the top of hers, encircling her body with his. Had any man ever loved a woman as he loved Sarah?
Her hands moved in a slow stroke up his chest. His dick thickened, growing hard against her belly. There was no way to hide his hunger for her, as close as they stood, wearing as little as they did.
He wished they could stand there forever, tired from their run, waiting for the dawn, safe and happy.
She lifted her face to him. He looked away from the shadows in her eyes. He smoothed the hair from her face. Her skin was impossibly soft, like velvet beneath his fingers. He was vaguely aware of her hands stroking down the length of his sides, over his hips. She moved between their bodies, cupping his heaviness.
He sucked in a breath, his eyes shooting to her face. He'd said she could touch him anywhere, anytime, but this was too soon. She wasn't ready to be intimate. But he couldn't pull back because she was reaching out to him. He couldn't go forward and he couldn't go back, he was stuck on a frozen lake, waiting for the ice to crack beneath them, drowning both of them in the terrible hidden currents of her memories. It was too soon. He was afraid. So goddamned afraid of losing her.
He drew her hands away from his hardening cock and lifted both of them to his mouth, baring her palms so that he could kiss the center of her hands—one, then the other.
“Please. Logan. Let us be together. Now. While I am not afraid. The longer we wait, the more I fear our joining. Let us just get it over with.”
“I want to make love to you, Sarah. I don't just want intercourse. I don't want a simple joining. I want you to feel what I feel for you. I am in no hurry.”
“Please. You need me. Let me give you ease. Let me do what I can to help you.”
He shook his head, aching to accept what she offered. “I am not so selfish that I would take you while you still fear me.” He bent forward, burying his face in her neck, hungry to feel her skin against his face, to smell her scent, to taste the salt on her skin.
“Logan, help me to get through this. Make me your wife.”
His arms tightened around her. One hand slipped under her long braid, cupping the back of her head. He kissed his way up the column of her neck to the corner of her jaw. He nuzzled her cheek, finding a path to her lips. He kissed the corner of her mouth.
There were too many shadows standing between them. Perhaps she was right in wanting their first coupling behind them, so that she would know there was nothing to fear and much to enjoy. It was a good plan. Logical. Humbling in the trust she placed in him. But his desire for her was utterly combustible, like a spark catching in a grain silo. His hand shook with the restraint of his will. This first time had to be for her pleasure alone. He would have to be more careful with her than if it was her very first time.
He bent his forehead to hers as his hands moved to her shoulders. He could feel her breath on his mouth, fast and shallow, pumping her fear and excitement over his soul. He drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. Again. Again. He willed her breathing to match his own slower rhythm as his hands slowly eased down her arms to catch her hands.
Pulling them out to their sides, he drew back to look at her, his beautiful wife. She stood before him, washed in the early morning light, ethereal. He wondered if he let go of her hands, would she disappear?
He leaned back as he started walking in a slow circle, pulling her around with him, wanting to spin away the threads of fear that clung to her. He stepped faster, grinning when she sent him a questioning glance. Faster. Her braid swung free. She laughed, like music spilling into the night. He could live on that sound. Around and around they went.
“Stop! I can't take anymore!” she begged. He drew her close, falling to the ground with her on top. The world continued to spin around them. She laughed and buried her face in his throat, gripping a fistful of his hair. He put his nose in her hair and drew a deep breath. He kissed her temple, the corner of her eye, her cheekbone, the soft skin beside her ear.
He drew her up his body, dragging her against his erection. He felt the wave of tension that rippled through her. He moved his legs between hers so that she straddled him. The weight of her body on his cock excited him, sending hot blood to his groin. He ached to join their bodies. He moved his cock against the cradle of her hips.
She stiffened as she lay against him. Bracing an arm on his chest, she pushed herself up. He lifted his knees, giving her a backrest to lean against. Her eyes were enormous pools of dark worry. He sat up. Cupping her chin, he kissed her closed mouth as his hand came up to cover her breast. She drew a shocked breath. He felt the pull of air against his mouth. His cock tightened, rocked against her sensitive core.
He kissed her chin, the space between her chin and lip, then took her mouth again, twisting his head when she opened to him, hungry to taste her. His tongue found hers, warm and wet. He groaned into her mouth, unable to stop the sound as his body quickened around hers. He broke the kiss, then matched his lips to hers once again. He moved his head in the other direction and took her mouth from a new angle.
Her nipple pebbled against his palm. He cupped both breasts, letting his fingers play with the hardened peaks. Her fingers on his shoulders gripped and released him as she arched against his hands.
His jaw opened, leading hers to do the same. Their lips barely touching, their tongues danced and played, rising, pushing, sliding against each other.
He broke the kiss to press his mouth against the corner of her jaw, the soft skin beneath her chin, the side of her throat. His hands shook as he lifted them to the buttons of her camisole. When he released the last one, he looked at her as he parted the fabric, baring her breasts.
His gaze dropped to the twin mounds, shockingly luscious on her slim frame. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, the pressure from her thumbs stiffening, warning of her tension.
Taking hold of her waist, he lifted her body toward his mouth. He nuzzled the side of one breast, his beard scraping against her sensitive skin as he pushed against the heavy mound. Her nipple peaked even tighter, aching for his touch. He ignored its thrust toward his face, turning his attentions instead to her other breast, kissing the soft flesh, lifting its weight against his face.
A groan slipped past his mouth as he sucked the softness of her breast. She knelt before him now, bearing her own weight, freeing his hands to take hold of her breasts. She watched everything he did, her hands now pulling him closer. He lifted her breasts, careful not to touch her nipples, knowing she ached for him to do that very thing. His thumb and forefinger tightened around the base of her nipple, pointing it toward his face. Her nostrils flared, her face tightened with anticipation. She gasped as his tongue flicked out to stroke her nipple.
Her thumbs were no longer pushing against him. She was pulling him closer. Logan covered her nipple with his hot mouth. Her hips bucked against him, pressing against his cock. He swirled his tongue over her taut peak, then sucked hard, gripping her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, doubling her pleasure.
He switched his attentions to her other breast, freeing his hand to move down her belly, lower to her mound, where the fabric of her drawers kept his hand from her soft skin. He ground the heel of his palm against her clitoris, gently, the pressure there and gone, there and gone. She pushed against his hand. His fingers found the opening in her drawers. He slipped a finger beneath the fabric, stroking over the folds of her sex, between them. She was wet, ready for him. He moved two fingers through her slick folds, letting his thumb massage the hardening nub, knowing from her body's involuntary movements he was giving her extreme pleasure.
His fingers slipped into her opening. Her eyes grabbed at his, fear chilling the heat that had flooded them seconds earlier. The shadows swirled like living entities between them, a fog of memories that were as real to her as she was to him. He knew she was leaving him, pulling back into her memories.
“Sarah, look at me.” She blinked, focused on his face. “Say my name.”
Her eyes on his, she reached between their bodies, her fingers finding the hard length of him.
“Say my name. Do it now,” he ordered.
Tears pooled in her eyes.
He caught her face in his hands as she loosened the tie of his drawers and freed him. “Say my goddamned name, Sarah. I am your husband. I am the
only
one who will know your body, the only one who has ever known your body. Others have taken what you
give
to me. They never knew you as I will. I will keep you safe. I will honor you with my life, my love. I will never, never harm you.”
“Logan.” The sound broke from her mouth as she speared herself on his penis.
God, she was tight, slick, a sheath made just for him. His hips bucked up against her in an involuntary movement. All expression slipped from her face. It was as if she just got up and left, leaving her body still joined to his. She pushed up and down, faster and faster, the movements learned, practiced, impersonal.
Mechanical.
A chill washed over him. She was no longer aware of him, of their union. She was doing what she'd learned to do, moving her body in a way that drew an answering response in his. She was fucking the demons in her head, not making love to him.

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