Retreat Hell! She Just Got Here(7)

Not this time.

“I dare you,” Logan began, spitting the words out before he could design a strategic retreat from the conversation, “To let me peel those sexy, red panties off you.”

Yeah, he wanted those panties. The provocative glimpse when she perched up on the chair sparked the first sensation of heat in his gut that he’d felt in months. Besides, Zach’s cock was all but ready to burst from his pants. Might as well help a brother out.

“Here?” she asked, but Logan shook his head and pointed to the sofa. She pivoted neatly on her bare feet, giving him a fine view of her rounded ass as she strolled toward the sofa. He rose, ignoring the stiff hitch of his left leg and forced himself to walk without a limp. The skin pulled tight, the scarring around his knee and hip inhibiting mobility, but even limited he could still move and he hadn’t spent months in a physical therapist’s merciless hands for nothing.

Zach retreated to the chair in the living room. They were done with dinner. Jasmine leaned against the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her, and feet propped against the floor, toes pointed as though a ballerina, but Logan concentrated on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

The dare stimulated her and pleasure uncurled a fist around his heart. He might not be able to fill her with a cock, he’d have to leave that sweet task to Zach, but he could still enjoy getting her ready. She reached for her skirt as though to roll it up, but Logan shook his head.

“Hands off,” he murmured. “I said let me take them off.”

Her smile grew and her chest hitched a one-two beat before she put her hands on the back of the sofa. Nodding his approval, Logan lowered himself, a slow, halting kneel that shot an ache racing up his spine, but he ignored the pain. He wanted to be down there, he could already smell the musk of her, the salty, tang of moistness that beckoned.

Mouth dry, he steadied on his right knee and drifted his hands over her hips. The silk fabric scraped the scars on his left palm, but he found the slit that opened over her thigh and inch by inch, slid the skirt up.

The scrap of red splashed color that contrasted with her honeyed skin. Heat licked up his palms and a blush pinkened her skin just above the delicate lace, a beautiful compliment of sweet and sexy. He’d intended to hook his thumbs and tug the scrap down, but proximity gave him another idea.

He spared a glance down at his groin. If there was ever a time to wake up, this is it. He grazed his mouth along the waistline of the panties and her breath hitched. Skimpy fabric plastered her sweet flesh, but he found the skin just below the elastic band and sampled butterscotch and a hint of apricots.

She’d mentioned a spa earlier. A massage.

Tracing a path to her right hip, he wondered if it was edible massage oil. Closing his teeth over the silk clinging to her hip, he drew it down. Sweet, hot, damp sex filled his nostrils. Between his thighs, his cock quivered.

A quiver.

A single, brief sensation stirred the flaccid length. Biting down, Logan ripped the panties and she gasped, but he didn’t pause, sweeping across her abdomen to the left side. A hint of curl teased his tongue as he passed close to the apex of her thighs. She wasn’t waxed there.

A second quiver joined the first, his balls tightening as though one of her soft palms cupped him.

Think about her, think about the taste of her. He laved at the butterscotch-kissed skin until he found the second seam. Only then did he lift his gaze upward to follow the exquisite curves of her torso and see the raw desire shimmering on her face.

He held her eyes as he ripped the second seam. The fabric slipped downward, baring the dark V of curls. He nudged her thighs apart and lapped a gentle kiss down to the pink lips that barely peeked between the curls. Sweet cream filled his mouth and her moan jerked another reaction from his cock.

A real jerk.

He slid his tongue around the hard, swollen clit he couldn’t see. Her legs buckled, thighs parting. The red scrap drifted to the floor between them. Grinning, he gave the precious button a long, sucking kiss until her hands gripped his shoulders and she braced her ass to keep her from falling.

The low, keening cry of her orgasm was music to his ears and a smile creased the scars on his face when he leaned back. She tasted delicious. He could dine on her for months. Her raw, open reaction stirred more life in him than he’d experienced since the roadside bomb ended his career, his passion and damn near took his life.

“Your turn.” He glanced up the flushed length of her, barely recognizing the husky sound as his own voice, her scent drugging his senses.

“Actually,” Zach leaned over the sofa, grinning. “It’s mine.”



***



Zach needed to send that Madame Eve person about two dozen roses, maybe some chocolates and whatever the hell else might be the appropriate gift for giving someone back his best friend. In the two hours since Jasmine arrived, Logan—his Logan—returned to fill out the shell of the man who’d woken up in the German hospital bed nine months before. Not even taking his first real steps afterward had filled the man with life.