Crazy for Her(41)

While she checked on Regan, Logan stacked the dishwasher and then went to his room to get his gun. He carried their coffee out back and put the cups and gun on the table. It was dark, and if Dickhead was out there, there was no way of knowing. Hopefully the man was holed up in his motel room for the night.

Settling in a chaise longue, Logan stretched out his legs. It was a beautiful night, and he leaned his head back and looked at the stars. Dani came out, and instead of taking the longue on the other side of the table, she sat between his legs and leaned back against his chest.

He tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.”

She arranged an afghan over her legs, her bottom wiggling against his crotch as she did so. Jesus. She was killing him, but his cock liked it. A lot. Logan gritted his teeth and waited for her to get settled. Her gardenia-scented shampoo was nice, but he liked the apple pie one best. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t used that one, though. He’d probably be licking her by now.

When she reached for her coffee, she noticed the gun. “I keep forgetting.”

“That’s okay as long as you’re with me, but if I’m not nearby, you need to remember to be on guard.”

“It’s funny, until you came, I didn’t forget at all. You make me feel safe.”

He gave up on not touching her. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her head. “I will always keep you safe, Dani.” Or die trying.

She put her hand over his. “I know. Now, tell me about Maria coming to visit.”

So much trust she put in him. It was unnerving and scared the hell out of him. What if he failed? What if no matter his precautions, the man somehow managed to get to her? He had to make sure that didn’t happen because it would destroy him.

“Logan? Hello.”

She twisted and peered at him. Before coming out, he’d opened the curtains in the kitchen so they’d have some light. Green eyes gazed at him, and when her lips parted, he couldn’t help himself. Putting his hand under her chin, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Her soft sigh undid him. He deepened the kiss, loving the taste of her, the feel of her lips against his. When he ran his tongue over her lips, she parted them, her tongue reaching for his.

For almost three years, he’d fantasized about kissing her, about touching her, making love to her. It had been his guilty secret. His imagination had been seriously inadequate.

The last thing he wanted to do was stop, but if he didn’t now, he wouldn’t be able to. If there came a time when they made love, he wanted to know it was the right thing to do. There would be no regrets for either of them. And if it did happen, it would be because she was his.

He reluctantly pulled away. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

She gave him a cross look. “You’re a tease, Logan Kincaid.”

That startled a laugh out of him. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be, but we need to talk, and if we keep this up, I’m going to forget everything I need to tell you.”

“All right,” she grumbled, and picked up her cup. “I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath and plunged in, fully expecting a battle. “Maria’s not coming here. We’re going to Pensacola. I have some things I need to take care of, and I’m not leaving you and Regan here by yourselves.” He waited for the eruption.

She set down her coffee and turned around on her knees to face him, her eyes alight with excitement. “Cool, when do we leave?”

Would she ever stop surprising him? “Tuesday night. That’ll give you two days to pack and get ready.”

“Awesome. I’m going to start now. It’ll take me two days to decide what to pack. Oh, this is so exciting.” She smacked him on the lips and was off before he could blink.

Logan chuckled. That had gone better than expected. It was getting harder and harder to resist her, and he needed to talk some things over with Mrs. Jankowski. When he made love to Dani—if it happened—it would be at his house where a picture of Evan wasn’t next to her bed.

Maybe he was being stupid. Maybe if he’d had a normal mother, he wouldn’t be so afraid of turning out like her. Lovey Dovey had tried her best to drag him into the gutter with her. When he’d resisted, she had sneered and made fun of him for putting on airs, calling him Mr. Hoity-Toity. What was it she’d said more than once in a fit of anger—blood will tell? She hadn’t seemed to grasp the irony that they shared the same blood.

There had come a time when he’d almost proved her right, a night he tried his best to forget. He did have bad blood in him, so he’d kept a tight leash on his urges.