She wasn't promiscuous. In fact, she could count on one hand--okay, three fingers--the number of men she'd been with sexually. The last one had been two years ago.
This wasn't just about having a sexy hunk of man fuck her until she screamed, although that would be a nice side benefit.
No, her relationship with Logan went way beyond the physical.
But right now, she craved the physical. And it was a place to start.
"Try me."
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Winter Ice
Chapter Five
Logan stilled at Sophie's words.
"You might not like it if I try you," he shot back, waiting for her to run, to shrug him off, do anything besides stand there with an eager expression on her face.
But God knew that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to try her every way imaginable. His body ached to be inside her...now. No preliminaries, nothing else but sinking his already hard cock deep inside her tight cunt.
He balled his hands into fists, mentally tamping down the primal urges that compelled him to take her. Take what she so obviously offered, then walk away from her completely.
Treat her like shit, and discard her.
Dammit, he'd do exactly that.
He crushed her against him, watching as her eyes widened and she gasped, hoping he was frightening her and she'd run like hell. He tightened his arms around her back so she couldn't get away, then bent and took her full lips, thrusting his tongue inside her warm, wet mouth.
Any minute now she'd be revolted by his combination of passion and ice. He felt it coursing through him, the cold chill despite the feverish heat the touch of her lips gave him.
But she didn't run. She didn't try to get away. Instead, she whimpered into his mouth and wrapped her arms around him. Her breasts crushed against his chest and the points of her nipples scraped the thin material of his shirt.
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He moved her backwards, keeping his mouth fixed on her lips, tangling his tongue with hers. When he had her back against the paneled wall, he ground his hard-on between her legs.
She moaned and clutched his shoulders, licking at his tongue as if she were desperate for a taste of him.
Her heat overwhelmed him, ignited him, threatening to melt his protective iceberg.
That he couldn't allow.
A swirl of cold air encircled them. He'd warned her that she wouldn't be able to handle him unleashed. He had to freeze her now.
If only to protect himself from her fire.
Sophie tore her mouth away from his and leaned her head back, making eye contact.
"You can't chill me out, Logan. I'm on fire for you."
His breath came out in a rush when she palmed his erection, cupping him possessively and sliding her hand up and down over his hard cock.
"You're on fire, too," she whispered, rubbing her palm over his throbbing shaft.
"Don't you realize how connected we are? When you flame, Logan, I burn. Hot, like an inferno."
Ah, fuck it. He couldn't get rid of her no matter how hard he tried, and he no longer even wanted to try.
"Is this what you want?" He pushed away from her, ripping down the zipper of his pants and pulling out his shaft. He stroked it slow and easy, taunting her.
Her eyes darkened a deep purple and she licked her lips, a silent invitation.
An invitation he could no longer resist. He moved to the chair where he'd tossed his coat, folded it over and put it on the floor in front of him.
"Get on your knees and suck me, Sophie."
Her cheeks flushed and she dipped to her knees, reaching eagerly for his shaft.
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Slipping her fingers underneath, she cupped his balls, cradling and massaging them lightly as she fit her lips around the swollen head of his cock. She kept her gaze focused on his face so that he could watch her.
Watching her lips close over his cock was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. He groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair, finding the clip and releasing the dark waves that spilled into his hands.
"Like silk," he murmured, though he wasn't sure if he meant her long, glossy hair or the slippery tongue laving the side of his shaft.
She sucked him masterfully, taking him deep into the back of her throat, then teasing him by withdrawing and stroking him. When she licked the droplets from the tip, the milky fluid gathered on her tongue before she swallowed.
His gut clenched at the beauty of her mouth surrounding him. He could watch her do this to him for a very long time; could spend hour after hour letting her pleasure him and then taking his time to please her, too.
But this wasn't a relationship, he reminded himself. They weren't a couple, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Sophie and he were not meant to be together.
He was trying to drive her away, not think about how they could do this forever.
Quickly withdrawing from her mouth, he grabbed her hands, forcing her to stand.
"I wasn't finished," she said, her throaty voice filled with passion.
He didn't answer her, just tugged down on her skirt until it puddled on the floor.
She wore a flimsy scrap of material for panties, a golden, lacy thong that did little to hide her bare pussy.
The exotic perfume of her scent surrounded him, the sweet smell of her arousal like an aphrodisiac to his senses. He bent over and removed her panties, wanting, desperately to linger at her sex and taste her.
But he refused to allow the intimacy of pleasuring her that way. It was too...personal, and he needed to keep this as impersonal as he could. But damn, he 39
Jaci Burton
wanted to tease her a bit, take her sweet flavor on his tongue and drive her mad for hours. Instead, he stood and reached for her buttocks, grasping them in his hands and hoisting her up and against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, the contact immediate and electric. Grinding his pelvis against her protruding clit, he thrust inside her pussy, drinking in her soft cries with a deep kiss.
Her tight cunt squeezed him, milked him, urged him to come hard and deep. A heady mix of patchouli and cinnamon washed over him as if she'd purposely released her scent. He drove harder this time, and her moans grew louder, her face flushing.
Pushing her back against the wall so he could free one hand, he jerked her top down and exposed her full breasts. Large, dark nipples pebbled under his searching gaze, and he couldn't resist dipping down and taking one tip in his mouth. He sucked it hard, pressing the nipple between the roof of his mouth and tongue.
The overpowering combination of her taste and scent drove him to fuck her harder, faster, deeper.
"Yes, Logan, fuck me like that," she cried, rocking her hot pussy against him, squeezing him with her tight muscles, pouring her juices all over his aching balls.
"You want more?" he asked, clenching his jaw tight, trying to hold back the impending torrent of come trying to release.
"Yes! Mon Dieu, yes! Give it to me, Logan! Now!"
He'd wanted this from the moment he'd seen her in the dark alley. Though he'd been fucking another woman that night, he'd wanted Sophie, imagined how hot and tight her cunt would be.
He was right. Her gravelly plea stripped away his control. He let some of the magic loose, holding a tight rein on the majority of its power. If he let it all go at once, neither of them would survive it.
The room covered in frost, ice pellets began to fall, and the water in the glasses around them froze solid.
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A bitter wind blew through the ballroom, but did nothing to quench the heat that Sophie's body, her cries, her spasming cunt had fired up inside him.
Her orgasm tore through her and she screamed in ecstasy. Her body tensed, tightening, then quaking uncontrollably. Strange, unintelligible words spilled from her lips.
Suddenly, the ice melted around them, the water became liquid once again and the room dried and w
armed.
The heat surrounding Sophie was forced against him, within him, and a raging orgasm soared through him.
Shocked, he could only roar as his release took over. He drove hard one last time and spilled his seed deep in her core.
It wasn't until he could breathe again, until he could focus on the here and now, that he realized he hadn't worn a condom.
Fuck. Shit. Sonofabitch.
He never fucked a woman without wearing protection. Yet with Sophie, being skin to skin with her had seemed as natural as breathing.
She lifted her head, tangling her fingers in his hair. "It's all right," she whispered.
"You don't have to worry. We're both protected."
He didn't know how she was aware of his thoughts, and couldn't muster enough energy to ask. Nodding, he still felt more vulnerable than he wanted to, especially with her. The last thing he'd do is give her power over him.
Disentangling himself from her sweet, hot body, he retrieved her panties and while she dressed, righted his clothing. Now that he'd separated from her, whatever weird connection they had before dissipated, allowing him to recover his senses. He felt much more comfortable now that his protective outer shell was once more upon him.
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Anger filled him. Anger at himself for being weak where Sophie was concerned.
Anger at her for whatever magic she possessed, for weaving some kind of spell over him.
Logan was a born cold-hearted man. And he'd learned a long time ago, that the best defense was a good offense.
Releasing the knotted tie that seemed to choke him, he leered at Sophie, his gaze raking over her breasts and hips. "Great fuck, wasn't it?"
Her cheeks still flushed with passion, she blinked and shook her head. "Excuse me?"
"Sex, Sophie. It was great. You're good. Damn good. Thanks."
Regarding him warily, she stayed silent for a minute. No doubt trying to figure out a way to get out of the room with her dignity intact.
Ignoring the knot of guilt forming in his stomach, he firmed his mental resolve to treat her like a tramp, refusing to believe the shocked, innocent expression on her face.
"I don't understand, Logan. What we just did was..."
"Fucking great. I know. We do have chemistry. No denying that." Taking a quick glance at his watch, he grinned and asked, "Need help with that box?"
She looked confused. "Huh? Oh. Ohhh! I get it now! You're trying to brush me off.
To protect yourself."
The woman was too goddamned insightful for his liking. "I don't need to protect myself from a little sprite like you, Sophie. But I do need to get upstairs and do some work before a big meeting tomorrow. So, if you don't mind..."
She gathered her box and hefted it into her arms, shaking her head. "I know the way out. Thanks."
Finally. He was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. The stupid, emotional part of him wanted to apologize for acting like a prick. No way was he going to let that part out.
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She started toward the double doors leading to the lobby, but stopped and turned, her skirt swishing around her ankles, bells jingling at her wrists and ankles.
"Logan?"
He was ready to accept her anger at his treatment of her. Hell, he deserved at least that much. "Yeah?"
"Don't forget to pick me up on Sunday for dinner at your parents."
She grinned, turned around and headed out the doors.
"Well, I'll be goddamned," he said aloud, his voice echoing in the now empty ballroom.
What the hell was it going to take to drive her away? He'd fucked her, then he'd insulted her, basically treating her no better than a one-night stand, and still she smiled at him, seemingly eager to see him again.
On Sunday. When he had to pick her up and take her to dinner at his family's home.
Maybe she wasn't going to be as easy to get rid of as the other women in his life had been.
Time for him to develop a battle plan, because it sure as hell appeared that dumping Sophie was going to be one hell of a battle.
*
Instead of heading straight home, Sophie stopped at Samantha's house, knowing that her friend would be up doing what she loved to do most.
Cooking.
She knocked on the door to the tiny house Sam had inherited from her parents, stepped back and inhaled.
Cookies. Her mouth watered and she laughed when Sam opened the door.
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White flour clung to the center of Sam's tiny nose.
"What?" she asked, brandishing a wooden spatula like a weapon.
"Flour. Nose. You busy?"
Rolling her eyes, Sam scrubbed her palm over her face and motioned Sophie inside.
"Very funny. You know me, Soph. I'm never busy."
"In other words, you're cooking up some magic potions. Eye of newt, wing of bat?"
"You're just full of jokes tonight, aren't you?" Sam said over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen. Sophie followed, snatching a freshly baked cinnamon cookie and slipping onto one of the barstools in front of Sam's baking island.
Sophie took a bite, her lips curling in a satisfied smile as the flavors overwhelmed her senses, making her think of home, family, and utter contentment.
"What brings you here so late?" Sam asked.
"Logan Storm," Sophie managed, her mouth full of cookie.
"Ah. That's right. You worked their Mardi Gras party tonight. What happened?"
"We had sex in the ballroom of the Rising Storm."
Arching a brow, Sam asked, "Really? In front of all those people?"
"No! It was later, after the ball was over and everyone left."
"Hot! Okay, so now what?"
Sophie grabbed milk from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass and snagged another cookie on her way back to the barstool. "I don't know what happens now. He seemed to be really into it, you know? Not just physically, either. There was a definite emotional connection. But after, it was like a wall slammed down between us and he was his normal, cold and remote self again."
"You know he's just trying to protect himself from you, right?"
"That's what I think, too."
Sam slipped the next batch of cookie dough into the oven and grabbed a chair.
"You got to him, Soph. Big time."
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"You think so?"
"I know so. That was easy enough to tell when he followed you to the shop. And you know something else, he got to you, too."
"Not really. I mean I enjoyed the sex, of course, but I'm mainly concerned about the visions and dreams. I just want to help."
"You want a lot more than just to help his family, honey. You want Logan."
"That's not it at all."
"You're lying to yourself."
"Am not."
"This is like being kids again and arguing over Barbie dolls."
"We didn't argue over Barbie. We argued over Ken," Sophie said, remembering their childhood fondly.
Sam grinned. "True. But I still think there's more to your feelings for Logan than just a need to figure out what danger his family is in. Allow your heart to open, Soph.
You'll see."
"Think you know everything, don't you?" she teased.
"You know I do," Sam answered with a wink.
"Witch."
"There you go, stating the obvious again"
By the time Sophie had slipped into the driver's seat of her car and headed home, she felt much better. Talking to Sam always helped.
Sam had insights as keen as Sophie's. Only Sophie couldn't see as far as her own heart. So she had to rely on Sam to point out what she couldn't see by herself.
Was she more involved with Logan than she thought? There was no doubt she'd felt the connection between the two of them, but she assumed it was because of her visions.
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The fact he was attractive and desirable didn't hurt, either. Despite the fact she didn't engage in casual intimate encounters with near strangers, she'd done it with Logan.
Okay, so what? She was a grown woman now. What was wrong with a little sex between two consenting adults?
But was there more to it?
She'd been so focused on getting Logan to listen to her pleas about the danger his family was in that she hadn't taken the time to assess her own feelings about him.
The way he'd made love to her--fast, furious, almost in anger--had touched her in ways she hadn't expected. She'd fought through both his anger and his magic and had reached him on an even plane where both of them had felt the reality of the experience.
Even now she could still feel him inside her, a part of her in ways that had nothing to do with her visions, and everything to do with her heart.
A heart she'd have to guard very carefully around Logan Storm.
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Chapter Six
Logan headed up the long gravel driveway leading to Sophie's place. He quickly scanned the directions she'd given him, shaking his head as he stopped in front of a dilapidated old trailer. It looked to be at least twenty years old.
And tiny.
Jerking the car into park, he threw open the door and walked toward the front step.
Two cracked cement steps led to the yellow aluminum door. The screen was lying half open, having obviously been ripped.
Nice place. Maybe she was hoping to land a rich guy and move up in the world.
He rapped twice on the thin metal door and waited.
He didn't have to wait long. She opened the door and stood aside for him to come in.
"You're right on time. Welcome to my home."
The inside was nothing like the outside. Candles were lit everywhere, giving off the same sensual patchouli and cinnamon scent as her shop. Bright colors from throw pillows and blankets lifted the mood of the place. Shades were open, sunlight streaming into each and every room. It was bright, colorful and homey.
Flowers bloomed healthy and vibrant in various pots throughout the house. Sophie led him from the small living room into the equally tiny kitchen. It was clean and smelled like citrus. Her bedroom was very small, including the bed, but a colorful quilt and a row of colorful plants along the windowsill brightened up the room.
"It's small, but it's home and I love it to death. I know that's silly since it's not much..."
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"You have a beautiful home, Sophie." Surprisingly, he meant that. The place was a dump on the outside, but welcoming on the inside. And she wasn't apologetic about it at all. For some reason that meant something to him.