Rachel's Redemption (12 page)

Logan must have sensed her need and moved one hand between them, touching her where their bodies met, stroking, applying just the right amount of pressure. Then he squeezed her there, just a little, between his fingers. “Come on, Rach, come for me.”

And she did, a rocking wave and blissful heat and energy and, oh Lord, she was ruined for any other man. Only a few more strokes from Logan and he was coming, too, a harsh breath stirring the hair by her ears and then he collapsed onto her, his breathing as ragged as hers.

She brought her arms up around him, holding him, and wondering,
What had they just done?
And,
How soon before they could do it again?

Chapter 17

Rachel waited a full ten minutes. Ten minutes to catch her breath, give Logan time to catch his, before she rolled over and took her turn.

She rose up on her elbows, feeling only decidedly more comfortable in her skin than she had moments earlier and said, “My turn.”

Logan lifted one tired brow.

“You’ve studied me in the buff.” A big grin split Logan’s face and he rolled onto his back, making a dramatic motion of drawing his arms up, settling his head in the cradle of his linked fingers. “Be my guest.”

Oh how she’d love to have that confidence.

Rachel pulled herself into a sitting position, didn’t miss the way Logan’s gaze followed her breasts or the appreciative glint in his eyes, and started her exploration at the tip of his chin.

She wanted to take her time exploring Logan, and not just because she was sleepy and satiated from what they’d just experienced. No, far from it. She wanted to learn him, slowly, expertly. Not that she expected this evening to turn into anything beyond what it was, one night of sex. Really, really good sex. Which was exactly why she was going to take her time with him.

She drew her fingertips down the length of his throat, felt him swallow beneath her fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She ran her hands across his collarbones, out to his shoulders, then down his arms, trailing along the hard muscles, deep crevices where muscle attached to bone, and farther down to dance in the dark hair that covered his forearms. He had strong arms, capable arms. Arms that could and would take care of those he cared about. In a primal way, she realized he had the strong arms and hands that would build a home, capture the food, battle enemies, and love tenderly.

His hands convulsed as she continued to tickle his skin, her fingers dancing along his tanned and deeply muscled body.

She moved her hands to the center of his chest, where more dark hair covered his pecs, his flat nipples. She swirled her finger around his nipple, watching it pucker and tighten. She moved her eyes up to his. He was smiling at her, quiet and watchful.

She went back to her exploration, moving her hands to the ridges of his abdomen and trying not to compare his lean, ribbed six-pack to her own. And, just as that thought entered her mind, one of Logan’s hands came from behind his head to caress and mold to her bottom.

Rachel was steadfast in her exploration, though, not allowing the sensations of his thumb and fingers caressing and warming her backside to slow her in her exploration.

Down his abdomen her fingers traveled, coming to the space around his navel where the dark hair circled and formed a tight line all the way to his sex. And, that’s where she went next.

He was ready for her, probably way past ready for her, but he patiently waited, while she did what she needed to do. Learn him, maybe. Take control, definitely.

She walked her fingers down his happy trail and came to the prize. She brought her open palm to rest lightly over the top of his long, hard erection, caressing. She heard his sharp inhale and, energized, she brought her open palm around his shaft and began to stroke. Logan’s hips bucked slightly as he rose up into her fisted hand.

“Babe,” he breathed.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s play later.” And, in one motion he had Rachel flat on her back, her legs parted.

She laughed. “Oh come on. I was just getting started.” She laughed again as he growled and bit into the side of her neck.

“
Coming on
, is exactly what I have planned.” He reached for another condom. Maybe he was a Boy Scout; he certainly had come prepared to this party.

He ripped the foil package, and rolled it down his length. He extended one long finger down her center, testing her readiness. The sensation sent shivers of need through her and her hips bucked in response. “Ready?”

The smile faded from her face as the sensation of his thick, hard length pressed against her already swollen folds. That part of her hadn’t seen any action in too long to remember. Now she was about to get the best sex again, twice in the same evening. Ready? Heck, yeah.

She tilted her hips up, meeting his thrust. And, he took her to that very happy place. Again.

Chapter 18

Oh God. What had she done? She’d dozed after the last time, but now she was wide awake, wondering for all the world how her always sensible brain had let her down. She’d succumbed to the raging hormones she counseled her pubescent patients about. She’d given in to lust. And, oh God, it’d been the best sex she’d ever had. Period.

But now, she was lying naked, spooned against Logan’s naked chest, and legs and . . . oh God. She’d needed to get out of here. No,
he
needed to get out of here. It was her motel room. He needed to go. This had been a mistake. She had an event to finish planning, he was sabotaging said event, and she needed to finish her fellowship—far away from here. It was not meant to be. This had been bad.

But, oh so very, very, deliciously good.

She told her inner hussy to take a hike and started to unwind Logan’s arms from where they rested around her hips, under breasts, cupping her breast. She bit her lip and screwed her eyes up tight. Oh no, no. no.

No other way to do it but to do it.

She lifted a heavy, muscled arm, the course masculine hair that covered it tickling her skin, and shimmied away.

“Where you going?”

Forward motion, forward motion. She kept moving until she was out of the bed, her commonsense playing along long enough for her to remember to take the sheet with her. She stood at the side of the bed, wrapped in a sheet, and Logan, lounging like a Roman God, remained in the bed, utterly, impossibly, beautiful and male and naked. And, not a bit apologetic.

“You need to go.” She kept her eyes trained on his, not letting them dip to the fruits she’d sampled, and, if inner hussy had her way, she would be climbing right back in to sample again. And again. “Now. You must go, now.”

“I don’t, babe. It’s Sunday morning. No place to be. Except right here. Come back to bed. And bring the sheet. It’s cold.”

Rachel glanced pointedly at his crotch. It didn’t look cold to her. It looked perfect, and long, and hard and . . . “Now, Logan. You have to go. This was . . . was a mistake. A big one, huge!”

Logan looked down at himself and then back at her and grinned.

Rachel growled. “Get up!” She snagged a pillow and tossed it at his head, then turned to collect his jeans and shirt, throwing those at him, too. “Time to go, Coach. You can’t stay. This was a mistake and you . . . you . . . you need to go!”

Logan swung his bare legs to the edge of the bed and stared at her. “You aren’t a morning person, are you?”

Rachel pointed at the door.

“Okay, okay. I’ll remember that. It’s okay. Not everybody is.”

“It’s not about whether or not I’m a morning person. It’s about,” she said, motioning between the two of them, but holding the sheet firmly around herself, “this. Us.”

He smiled. “Us?”

“That’s not what I meant. There is no ‘us’.”

“Ah, come on Rach. Last night was pretty good. I do remember you making a noise that—”

“Stop!” Rachel put her hands over her ears, mindful to keep the sheet covering her.

“Out.”

Logan chuckled, but he got dressed then stood, his hands resting loosely on his trim waist, watching her. “You sure?” he asked, his expression hopeful, expectant.

Rachel nodded stiffly.

Logan frowned and shook his head. “Okay.” He approached her and lifted her chin with a single long, talented finger. He stared into her eyes then leaned forward, pressing a quick hard kiss on her still swollen, still sensitized lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pulled the door closed behind him.

Rachel leaned against the solid surface of the wood, holding the sheet tight to her, and sighed. What had she done?

She’d had the best sex of her life with the hottest man she’d ever known, that’s what she’d done. And, a part of her, the part she was failing to ignore, told her in no uncertain terms that she’d do it again if given the chance.

Well, she’d just have to make sure that chance never materialized.

She was losing sight of the goal here. She never did that. She made goals, she met them, she made new goals, and she met them, too. That’s what had gotten her into medical school, through residency, and what would get her hired as a partner at the Denver clinic where she worked. Where she needed to be first thing tomorrow morning.

Losing sight of her goals would not, however, get Nana’s event planned properly.

But it would most definitely land her back in bed, naked with the hottie-hottie whose truck just peeled out of the parking lot.

Rachel sighed and headed toward the bathroom. She needed a long, hot soak. She needed to steam away the sex-starved hussy trying to ruin her plans. She needed coffee.

Her cell rang. Maybe it was Molly. She needed to talk to her friend. A cup of coffee and some blueberry pancakes—no, no foods that reminded her of Logan. But a talk with her best friend was exactly what she needed. Rachel retrieved the phone from under her shirt and pants and underwear scattered on the floor beside the bed. When she confirmed it wasn’t Logan, she answered, “Hello?”

“Rachel Delaney-Tolbert?”

“Speaking?” But not to Molly.

“Hi. This is Sasha. We’re here and ready for the audition?”

Rachel’s head whipped up. “Excuse me?”

“The audition. We were told to be . . . Kiki, where are we? Oh, yeah, right. The Redemption Rec Center today at eleven for our audition.”

Rachel racked her brain. What
was
this woman talking about? “Okay,” she said tentatively.

“You’re Rachel Delaney-Tolbert, right?”

“Yes . . .”

“Well, it’s your name on the invoice. We’re auditioning for some dinner.”

Oh God. This was why Logan had requested a stage. Her stomach rolled. What had that demon man done now? “I’ll be right there.” Rachel clicked off the phone, tossed it onto the bed, then raced to get dressed.

Chapter 19

Rachel made it to the rec center in seven minutes.

Amazing what a bolt of adrenaline and a whole lot of mad could do to get your butt in gear.

“Are there . . . people, ladies, waiting for me?” Rachel asked the young girl behind the front desk, the one that swiped your membership card. Rachel honestly had no idea what, or who, to expect.

“There sure are,” said the young girl, her eyes big and round. The girl pointed eagerly down the hall. “That way.”

Rachel started down the hallway but pulled up short when a familiar voice called her name. Of course he’d be here.

Just the sound of that voice, the deep timbre, and her insides melted, her traitorous body readied. Her face, heck, her whole body, heated up, and all she could think of was their naked bodies all tied up in her motel room bed.

She turned toward the man who’d made her come four times last night. Oh God. She blushed from the roots of her hair to the pink tips of her toes. “Okay, you can have me for one hour,” he said, holding up an index finger. “Then I’m out of here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.
This,
whatever it is, is all you! Your fault, your idea, your plan to . . . to . . . to—”

“Now wait a minute. Don’t get all bothered. This might be fun. I bet your guests will love it.”

She dropped her chin.

His lips twitched. “Where are they?”

“This way.” She gestured down the hall.

He smiled. “I’m early.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. How’d you know to come here?”

“I got a call from Kiki.”

Ah.

They entered the big and empty room. Where were they?

The far door opened and in came four beautiful women.

Stunningly gorgeous women in overcoats, bare legs, and high heels. They were breathless and wide-eyed, heavily made up.

“Holy guacamole! This place is way the hell out here. Come on, girls. I think we’ve arrived. Finally.”

Rachel shot a look to Logan who was grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Hi. I’m Rachel Delaney-Tolbert. I think we spoke on the phone. And, you are?”

Logan interjected, “The entertainment.”

They appeared more like hookers, and Rachel seriously hoped they weren’t naked under their trench coats. Logan’s face told her he was hoping just the opposite.

The one who’d entered the room first strode over to Rachel. She had straight shiny black hair, dark lids dusted in dark hues and super long lashes. “Hiya. I’m Sasha. And this is Kiki, that’s Megs, and Tilly,” Sasha said. The other ladies smiled and nodded. “Where do you want us?”

Rachel looked over at Logan. “Where do you want them, Coach?”

Logan visibly swallowed. She was sure he heard the thinly laced anger in her voice. All the same, he smiled broadly at Sasha, showing his gleaming teeth and disarming charm. “Is this enough room?”

The lady shrugged. “Sure, we’ve done it in smaller spaces.” She gazed over her shoulder. “Come on, girls. This way.”

They all filed into the room, where a portable CD player sat front and center. Traditional Arabic music filled the space around them.

Rachel gave Logan a look. His grin, if anything, had grown, and he winked at her.

Sasha turned toward her
harem
, whispered and pointed and directed.

Then the coats came off.

Rachel gaped. She managed to keep her mouth closed but only barely.

Logan said, “Wow.” He had no compunction about his mouth gaping. It stayed open as he took in the scene.

The women still had clothes on, technically, but just barely. Did pasties count as clothes?

“Um . . .” Rachel started, but Logan’s hand on her arm silenced her.

“Let’s see what they’ve got, Rach. They did drive all the way out here.”

Sasha gave her a questioning stare.

“Uh, sure. Okay. Go ahead.” She gestured with her hands.

Sasha nodded once then she turned toward her girls, ticked off a count of five, then they all turned at once and started dancing to the music, slowly, methodically, hips and arms swirling. It was completely mesmerizing and totally seductive. Their tan, flat stomachs undulated in perfect rhythm, their arms extended and rolled with the music.

Then their feet moved. Toward Logan.

Toward her.

Scarves appeared, from where Rachel didn’t know, and twirled in the air. Wisps of silk in oranges, reds, blues, and yellows shimmered all around them. The room became smaller, more intimate, as the women twirled and gyrated, rotated and wound around Logan and herself.

Rachel found herself propelled closer and closer to Logan so smoothly, she didn’t even realize she was taking steps. One moment the dancers were several feet away from her and Logan, the next they were in front of, behind, all around until she and Logan were facing each other.

Her eyes met his, and she was lost. A sea of jeweled colors floated in front of her face. The music beating and humming louder and faster, hips gyrating harder and closer. A dancer positioned herself directly behind Rachel. Rachel could feel the heat of her body pushing into the space around her. She could hear the dancers breathing over the roar in her ears.

Logan’s eyes were wide and fascinated and locked on her. He’d stopped watching Sasha and her minions. His gaze had darkened as he was positioned by Tilly directly in front of Rachel. Tilly was shimmied up behind him, pressing him closer and closer to her until they were almost touching. Almost.

The music reached a crescendo, the dancers arms were raised all around them. All Rachel could see was Logan, wrapped in a barrier of lean, feminine arms, and bodies.  

The air around them crackled with heat and energy. Rachel’s own body grew warm and soft.

A pair of hands, not her own and not Logan’s, clasped her hips and began working them in time to the music, side-to-side, forward, back. The rhythm repeating. Another pair of hands moved Logan, his hips and his shoulders.

When she looked at him his expression was unreadable. His eyelids had dropped to slits, but his eyes were most definitely on her. Just as hers were on him. The dancers had reduced the size of the huge room to something much smaller. It was just them.

As the walls closed in, the ceiling seemed to fall, and the dancers receded. Or seemed to. Hands still cupped her hips. But she was moving almost on her own now, swaying to the music, closer to Logan. The air between them shrinking.

Her lips parted as he drew closer. Caught in the music that trilled and cast a soft and languid beat around them. She leaned forward. Then put out her hands to stop her progression.

They landed on his hard chest. The skin underneath her palms hot. The muscles there bunched under her touch. She met his gaze, holding it, and wishing . . .

That they were alone.

Then it stopped. All of it. The music, the dancing, the scarves in the air.

“Well?” Sasha asked breathlessly. “Is that what you had in mind?”

All Logan could think about as the dancers swirled and gyrated around them was when could he get Rachel naked again. She didn’t know it but she was sexier than any of the mostly naked woman moving around them. She absolutely, unequivocally, did it for him.

Which should have had him running for the hills. But, it didn’t. Probably because she was leaving. She had a career waiting for her in Denver and his home was here. That right there protected him from any long-term commitment. But it certainly didn’t preclude him from taking advantage of their proximity now.

The event of the century was only a couple of weeks away and, although he was pulling out as many stops as he could, the freight train was screaming full speed ahead, complete with belly dancers and couscous.

Would it be the worst thing if it happened?
He wasn’t sure if that was the devil or the angel on his shoulder talking. Either way, it wasn’t good. That he, in any way, shape or form, was imagining this thing taking off was a sure fire sign that his brain had ceased rational thought.

Rachel was speaking to the dancers, talking logistics, and all he could think was what Rachel would look like in one of those outfits, her soft feminine stomach bare to his eyes and touch, her long legs exposed, and the tops of her amazing breasts brazenly exposed. Oh yeah. He could go for that.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?” He shook his head from the naughty genie-in-a-bottle thoughts he’d been having and focused on Rachel. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Kikki wanted to know if you had any questions?”

Hell, yeah. Could he borrow one of their costumes? But he said, “Nope. I think I’ve seen enough.” Of them, not of Rachel.

“Okay, well, I guess we’ll see you at the end of the month.”

“Sure thing,” Kikki said, and they packed up their stuff.

Rachel walked them to the exit. Logan’s eyes trailed her as she walked them out. He’d hoped the dancers would mess up the event, but now he wasn’t so sure. It might make the whole thing that much more anticipated, enjoyed, attended. And, at that moment, he honestly didn’t care.

Rachel grabbed her coat and headed out of the room.

“Rachel, wait, where are you going?”

“The motel. Alone.” She gave him a pointed look then turned and left, following the same path as Sasha and her gang.

He smiled and let her walk away. He knew a short cut.

Rachel climbed into her car and tried to decide whether Nana would have loved or hated the international theme this event was taking on. Nana had always loved a party, although her tastes had definitely trended toward the more traditional. But, maybe, she would appreciate all the worldliness of it, the colors, the tastes, the sounds. Maybe.

Rachel was tired. A night of hot, sweaty sex would do that to a girl. She needed a shower and the fresh perspective that always brought her. But, as she pulled her Volvo into the motel parking lot, the relief of a shower evaporated like steam on a cooling mirror. Logan, by some black magic, was parked in front of her room, leaning against his truck and looking way too good.

“Short cut?”

“I can’t reveal.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you’re wasting your time.”

He ignored her, though, and, as she was about to open the door, came up behind her, engulfing her in his arms, his heat, him. He reached around her to collect her key and opened the door for her, ushering her in and closing the door with his foot.

In the darkness of the room that smelled of him and her and them, he turned her gently in his arms and kissed her.

“Logan . . .” But she wasn’t pushing him, pushing into him maybe, but not away.

“Shhh . . .” And he filled her mouth with him and his with her and she was lost.

There was a heavy arm across her stomach and it wasn’t hers, since both of her own hands rested on top of it. She lightly skimmed her palm over the coarse hair and a smile tugged at her lips.

Logan.

She carefully turned her head. Logan lay on his stomach, his face turned toward her on the pillow they shared, his mouth parted in sleep. His face creased where it met the pillow.

And he was absolutely beautiful to her.

They’d had sex one more time before they’d both fallen asleep. She lifted her head to see the alarm clock. It was just after one p.m.

Her stomach growled and she could have died.

She shot her eyes to the sleeping Logan. But his eyes were open and a smile played at his lips, although one side was still squished against the pillow.

“Hungry?”

Her stomach answered for her.

He chuckled then pushed himself up and out of bed.

“Don’t worry, nobody will see me leaving. Or coming back.”

She opened her mouth to say that thought never entered her mind or that she’d even be bothered to have people know. But, he leaned over her and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Be right back.”

She was too satiated to move, but evidently not so for Logan. She heard him pull on clothes and then the motel room door opened and closed.

She rolled herself onto the spot previously occupied by Logan and inhaled. God she loved his smell. It was everywhere: on the sheets, her clothes, her.

She closed her eyes tightly. What was happening here?

This wasn’t the beginnings of a relationship. That was impossible. First of all, she didn’t love Logan. How could she? Maybe she’d known him longer than any other man, but what did she really
know
about him?

He cared about people and kids. That much they shared in common. He loved Redemption. She . . . well, she loved Nana and the home they’d shared in Redemption, the life she’d had here. But, without Nana . . . no, Rachel was happy wherever she was able to be a practicing physician. For her, that would be Denver.

She liked Logan. Especially when he wasn’t accusing her of using her money and name to get her way or tossing out accusations of her concern for being seen with him. Where was that bologna coming from?

She cared about him. She had to or how else could she have done what she just did with him? And she believed he felt at least something for her. Although she knew he—well, men—didn’t need to even feel that to have sex. But, in her heart she knew he felt at least that much.

And, it wasn’t anything like her last relationship.