Between You and Me(49)

"No," she whispered. "No, never." Her heart pounded against her ribs.  The things he was saying, along with how jealous she'd become at the  thought of him wanting Carrie enough to sleep with her over and over,  and the way he was looking at her now, all hot and intense and drop-dead  sexy . . . Oh God, she had feelings for him that went way beyond  friendship. She'd fallen for him, and it'd been so seamless she hadn't  even been aware of it. Until right now.

The realization hit her hard as she stared back up at him. This big,  gorgeous Viking, this sweet and sensitive man who asked nothing of her  and gave so much . . . she was crazy about him. She looked forward to  seeing him every day, loved talking to him, loved being with him. Ohhh,  she was in big trouble. He was only so at ease with her because they  were just friends. He'd just said so himself. So any sticky feelings  beyond that? That was not part of the deal.

"Tess," he continued, blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside  her. "Yes, we started this as a plan, each of us giving the other  something we needed. But we've bonded. We're real friends now. And our  friendship means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me." He sighed as he  admitted, "Carrie never did. She was really nice, and we had fun in bed,  but I never felt anything for her, which is why I thought it fair to  her to end it when I did. I was trying to spare her feelings. You  understand?"

Tess only nodded.

"Sure, I wanted her then. But my Long Island Lady . . ." He quirked a  grin. "I want you now. All the time. Deal or not, friends or not, you're  the most beautiful, desirable, sexy and sweet woman I've ever met. So  don't be jealous of her. I want you." He lowered his head and took her  mouth in a commanding kiss.

She swayed as she let herself fall into it. His hands slid up her back  and into her hair, holding her to him as he plundered her mouth with  deep, hot kisses. She couldn't think straight, and she didn't want to  deal with what she was feeling. A piece of her wanted to run away from  him, right there and then. But it was the end of her ovulation cycle.  She needed to do what they were there to do. So she reached out and  unbuttoned his shirt as they kissed, pulling the shirttails out of his  pants with demand.                       
       
           



       

He pulled back to look at her, brows lifted, his gaze a silent question.

"No more talking," she whispered. "Let's go upstairs and get to work."

That stopped him. He frowned, cradling her face in his hands. "Wow. Wait. We need to-"

"No. I don't want to talk anymore." She pulled away and headed for the  stairs. It was easier to lie to him when she wasn't looking at him, so  she said as she walked, "You and your friendship mean a lot to me too,  Logan. We're good. So let's go."

She was halfway up the stairs when she realized he wasn't behind her.  She turned to look; he stood where she'd left him, in the middle of the  living room, staring after her with a stormy, confused look on his  handsome face.

"We're fine," she said firmly, even as her heart hammered inside her  chest, making it hard to breathe. "Please join me upstairs?"

His eyes narrowed on her, pale green lasers scouring into her. Then he  scrubbed his hands over his face, drew a deep breath, and started  walking to join her.

Their sex wasn't playful or fun. Intense and red-hot, the atmosphere in  her dark bedroom was similar to the charged tension of makeup sex after a  fight. They grabbed at each other without mercy, reckless and  demanding. She dug her nails deep as they trailed over his back; he bit  her and possessed her and made her scream for more. When he went to  position himself over her, she brusquely turned her body, offering her  back. She couldn't do missionary position tonight. She couldn't look  into his eyes as he moved inside her . . . not with the emotions  pinballing through her now. He'd be able to see how she felt about him  if he looked deeply into her eyes, and she couldn't bear the thought of  it.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, signaling without words that she  wanted something rougher and darker than she usually did. So intuitive,  so in sync when they were in bed together, his eyes held hers for a long  beat. Then, gripping her hips, he took her from behind, slamming into  her hard as he went deep. She moaned loud and low, her fingers twisting  into the sheets.

He took over and she gladly let him, giving herself up. Pounding into  her, the sounds of their bodies slapping together and lusty groans and  labored breathing took them quickly to another level they'd never hit  before. He grunted over her, driving into her with mindless animal lust.  She urged him on with her moans and motions . . . then she cried out  his name, her head dropping down as the shouts tore from her throat. The  erotic sounds sent him flying over the cliff. He dug his fingers into  her hips as he groaned and bucked and shuddered and emptied himself deep  inside her.

They fell to the mattress together in a tangled, sweaty heap, her hair  everywhere, both of them breathing as hard as if they'd run a race. He  held her close, spooning her, her back to his front as they worked to  calm down.

Finally, he dropped a tender kiss on her shoulder. "There's no way in  hell you can think I don't really want you after that." He moved her  hair aside to better expose her skin and kissed her shoulder again. His  sexy voice rumbled in her ear, sending tiny shivers over her. "What  Carrie said? She's dead wrong. I don't give a fuck about your money, and  you know that. And yes, our deal is our deal, but I'm insanely  attracted to you." His hand ran down the length of her side, stopping at  her hip. "Please tell me you know that?"

God, what he was doing to her. And he had no idea. She nodded and let her eyes slip closed. "I know that, Logan."

"Okay. Good." He kissed her neck and pulled her even tighter against  him, closing one hand around her breast and one on her waist as he  cradled her.

She let herself glory in how it felt to be held by him, the smell and  feel of him . . . then she tried to pull away. "Gotta raise them up,"  she murmured.

He let her go more slowly than usual. She swung her body around into  position, lifting her legs up over the smooth curved headboard. He  pushed a pillow under her hips. They lay together in silence.

She waited for him to do what he always did: go to get them both water,  talk for a few minutes, then leave for the night. And it took a minute,  but then he did get up from the bed and pad out quietly, and he did  bring back a bottle of water for her, sitting on the bed beside her as  usual.                       
       
           



       

"I'm glad we're friends," he said softly, gazing down at her.

"I am too," she said. "I'm glad we can talk openly like we did tonight."

"Same here. And I feel like . . . you heard me. You know. So that's the  end of that." He paused, as if he were going to say more, then drank  more water instead. "I better get going. I'm tired."

"I'm exhausted. You destroyed me here. That was . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"I'm not sure what that was," he admitted in a whisper. "But holy hell,  it was intense. You're more than a tigress, you're a damn lion." The  corner of his mouth lifted, and he leaned down to kiss her lips. "I hope  I didn't leave bite marks. Or bruises on your hips . . . oh man. You're  gonna be marked up tomorrow. You have such pale skin . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said firmly. "I loved it. Besides, you don't get away  with nothing. You'll be feeling those scratches when you shower." She  couldn't help but grin back.

"Ah shit," he laughed. "Probably true." He stared into her eyes. "We're cool?"

"Totally." Her heart squeezed as a voice whispered in her head. Liar.  You're a hot mess. Get him out before you beg him to stay. "Get home  safely, okay?"

"I will, don't worry. Always do."

"Thanks for the flowers, and dinner."

"My pleasure. Thanks for the ski pass. And wearing that incredible  dress, and . . . everything. Tonight was . . ." He paused, seeming to  search for the right words. Finally he said, "It was certainly  memorable."

She snorted out a laugh. "It was that."

"Seriously, most of it was great. Think of the good parts." He stroked  her hair with tender fingers, making her heart ache and want more. "I'll  text you tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

He gave her a small smile and rose from the bed. She watched him get  dressed, her mind racing and her heart in turmoil. She didn't want him  to leave. She wanted him to hold her all night as she dealt with these  astonishing new realizations, these intense feelings she'd been  clobbered by tonight. She wanted him, period. But she couldn't act on  it, or tell him. Ever. It was a dealbreaker and she knew it.