Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (86 page)

L
ogan’s mind
was still reeling from Tori’s threat to have dirty sex as he watched her hit the water. Swearing under his breath, he dove in after her.

Underwater, he saw her already twisting toward the surface. Her legs kicked, long and straight, and he chased her through a swarm of air bubbles.

Crazy-assed woman.

“What the hell was that?” he yelled as soon as his head hit air.

Instead of answering, she splashed water at him.

Aw, hell no. He dove for her, his fingers snagging her ankle as she swam for the swirling waters at the base of the waterfall.

She was strong, but he was stronger. With three quick pulls, he was alongside her body, holding her tight against him as he took over, dragging them both through the curtain of falling water and into the cave behind it.

She was laughing as they found their footing on the slippery rocks, but there was a new edge to her voice. A
don’t fuck with me
sound.

It hit him right in the chest. “I didn’t mean to sound like a big brother,” he said gruffly, raising his voice over the thunder of the water.

“I know,” she hollered back. “But it still felt like that, you know?”

“I promise you I’ve never thought of you as a sister,” he shouted back.

“Oh, come on. You gonna try and say you didn’t drag me back her to give me a water safety lecture?”

“I’m slightly more fun than that.”

“I bet you are. With other women.”

What the hell did that mean? He moved closer to her. “I’m here, aren’t I? We can do whatever you want this week. I’ll in, no judgment.”

She pushed a wet strand of hair off her cheek as she stared at him, still breathing heavily. “Good.”

“Good.”

“You can be my wingman.”

“No.” It was a reflex, an unguarded, knee-jerk response, but it was also the truth. There was a limit to how actively involved he could be in her hooking up with some random guy.

“See? Thanks, big brother.” She dove back into the water, disappearing under the waterfall, and this time he gave her more of a head start.

The way his blood was pumping, if he didn’t give her some space, he was going to do something he’d regret for the rest of his life.

* * *

T
ori
slowly dolphin-kicked her way across the pool, swimming just below the surface. What the hell was Logan’s problem?

She waited for him to catch her. When she reached the far side and he hadn’t, she came up for air and spun around, searching for a stream of air bubbles. Nothing. She squinted back at the falls, vaguely making out his tall, broad shape behind the falling water.

Damn.

Turning around again, she looked for the safest way out of the pool. She’d pack up their bags and dry off, and by the time he was over whatever he was out of sorts about, they could head back down the mountain and pretend this little spat never happened.

But as soon as her palm hit the first dry rock, she knew it was the wrong call.

There’d been something else going on back there, behind the waterfall, and she was so done with being in the dark.

“No more secrets,” she muttered, twisting around and kicking off from the rock side of the pool. She stroked her way through the water, fast and furious, and burst through the falls just in time to see Logan disappear underwater. She dove beneath the surface and grabbed him.

He hauled her back into the air, and they bobbed together. Her toes were barely touching the bottom here, but his extra height meant that he was more on more stable footing. He reached out and grabbed her waist and she stopped treading water.

“Why won’t you be my wingman?” she asked in a rush.

He just stared at her.

“I was going to marry a man that didn’t love me. And I had no clue. No. Clue. So secrets? Right now, they’re like a mind-fuck for me. Okay?”

His eyes flared wide. “I’d never hurt you like that.”

“So just be straight with me.” She huffed out a frustrated breath as water lapped against her face. “Do you think I’m being stupid?”

His face tightened. “Never.”

“Logan…” She reached for his shoulders and pushed herself up a bit higher out of the water. His hands flexed against her waist, and suddenly she was closer to him. Close enough to see, just for a second, that his gaze dropped to her chest. And when it flicked back, fast as lightning, it was guarded. “Logan?”

“I don’t think of you as my sister,” he said roughly. “I never have, and never will.”

Her heart started hammering in her chest, and she was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was in Logan’s arms behind a waterfall.

And he wasn’t letting go.

Heat swirled through her body, licking at all her nerve endings. Logan’s arms—big, strong, comforting as always—now felt different.

Beneath her palms, his muscles bunched and flexed, but she couldn’t give that too much attention because her gaze was locked on his face, and the tight, tense expression twisting across it. But that didn’t mean she missed the barely constrained energy zinging through his body. Nope.

She’d never been more intensely aware of anything in her entire life.

The swirling heat inside her started to pool like liquid in her belly.

And still, she hadn’t said anything.

But he hadn’t asked a question, either. He’d just made a statement.

And looked at her the way a man looked at a woman.
Never have, and never will
.

What alternate reality had she tumbled into?

She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but she’d never know for sure because before her brain cells could unscramble themselves, he lowered his head and all thoughts were gone like dry leaves on the wind.

Logan’s mouth pressed against hers, hot and sweet. Insistent. Hungry. Without hesitation, she parted her lips, her body knowing exactly what it wanted—a taste of his skin for the first time.

This was so wrong. Her mouth didn’t belong anywhere near Logan’s skin, but he tasted like sunshine and even as she was screaming inside her head because this was worse that the insane free-falling ride at the state fair, she was sliding the tip of her tongue against the seam of his lips.

In for a penny…

He opened for her, his tongue twisting against hers as he hauled her tighter against his body, one thigh shifting between hers, urging her legs up to his hips. “God, Tori,” he groaned, his fingers rubbing against the back cutout of her swimsuit. “Tell me this is okay.”

She couldn’t. But she couldn’t stop kissing him, either, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as his hands roughly pushed up her back and into her hair.

He tugged her mouth away from his and looked down at her fiercely. “Tell me you want this.”

That
she could do. “I want this,” she breathed, already pressing against him again. “Please, Logan…”

With a groan, he curved over her, swallowing the last whisper of her plea. This time, the kiss was entirely in his control and she gave in to the commanding sweep and thrust of his tongue, the teasing pull of his lips. The whole time his fingers stroked and grazed her body, sticking to relatively safe zones, but nothing felt safe now.

Who was this man and what had happened to her best friend?

One thing was certain—Logan kissed like a filthy boss. He alternated between deep, dirty exploration and light, teasing nips. He kissed with his entire body, but never once did she feel like he was going too far.

Damn him. She wanted him to go a hell of a lot further even though that was a bad, bad idea.

They kissed until her lips were swollen and her body ached for more that she definitely shouldn’t want two days after being dumped.

And when Logan released her from his shaking arms, she saw that realization painted all over his face, too.

He slowly stepped back, his hands on her hips until he moved just out of range, and then his arms swung loose at his side.

She missed those arms already.

“Logan,” she whispered. That was all she had. His name. A reminder to herself that this was still her friend. That she knew him, even though after that kiss, she wasn’t sure she did at all. So she couldn’t say anything else, because where would she start?

He opened and closed his mouth. Well, that made two of them that were speechless.

She moved closer. He backed up, so she stopped.

Right. Space would be a good thing, except she wanted his arms around her again. She always wanted a Logan hug.

And now she maybe wanted a lot more than that.

Bad idea.

If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would eventually stick.

He started to speak, and his voice crack. He cleared his throat and tried again, his gaze hard. “If you’re going to have dirty sex with anyone this week, it’s going to be me.”

“Oh.”

“And if you don’t want that, that’s okay.” He was breathing hard, and she thought, no, it wouldn’t be okay.

Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

“Right,” she said weakly, blinding stretching her hand out to find the rock ledge behind her. She just needed to catch her breath. And maybe knock her head against something hard.

Logan’s tongue had been inside her mouth. His hands had…

And she’d practically rubbed up against his…

She jerked her gaze back to his face, although that wasn’t a safer place to look, not with the possessive, hungry way he was glaring at her.

Stephen had never looked at her liked that. Not even once.

And she’d never had this reaction to her fiancé, either. Ex-fiancé.
Never-loved-you fiancé
.

Shit. She shook her head. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t say that. Don’t be sorry. That was…” perfect. “I think I needed that. But I can’t…do anything else. Not right now.”

He nodded jerkily. “Of course.”

“We should head back.”

“Okay.”

She held up her hand. “And I need you to keep being awesome. I need to go out for dinner tonight and it not be weird. Which is a stupidly big thing to ask, but—”

“It won’t be weird.” He held her gaze. “I promise. It’s fine.”

I
t was surprisingly fine
.

Logan wouldn’t have taken that bet, but the two-hour hike back down the mountain helped take the edge off the fact he’d just blown their relationship to a whole new place—a weird, unwanted place for Tori—and he’d spent the time giving himself a serious lecture about manning up.

She didn’t want him to be her holiday fling.

That wasn’t news.

And it had to be okay.

So when they arrived back at the resort, he pulled her into his arms for a hug—a regular hug. He locked away all the stupid things he wanted to say to her and gave her the most platonic squeeze he could manage, then kissed her temple. “Go get dolled up. I’ll head over to reception and see if we can get a dinner reservation for one of the resort restaurants.”

“I don’t mind if it’s later,” she said, tilting her face up to his. “I could handle a nap before we eat.”

“Later it will be.” He flashed her a totally cool grin, which she returned, pleasant surprise dancing across her face.

See? Fine.

He left her at their villa and hit the reception desk, got a reservation, and then circled past the gift shop in the lobby to get some chocolate. Not fancy chocolate, but M&Ms and shit like that.

Best friend chocolate.

Sorry for kissing you, let’s talk about hilarious memories from high school chocolate.

Except he wasn’t sorry, and she didn’t want him to be sorry, so it was just…Hey, wow, isn’t this complicated? Here. Have chocolate.

That would work.

The villa was quiet when he returned. Tori’s door was ajar, so he knocked quietly and stuck his head inside. She was curled up on the bed, softly snoring. She’d showered and changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt.

His chest throbbed. Damn, he wanted to curl up with her.

Instead, he took a quick shower and stretched out on his bed.

She came to find him an hour and a half later, still dressed in her comfy clothes. “Hey,” she said from his doorway. Her gaze flitted over him and around the room, then back to him. Nervous but not shy.

He stretched his arms out wide and gave her a lazy, warm grin. No reason to be nervous. “Dinner reservation is at eight.”

“Lots of time, still.”

He nodded.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Beach for sure. Hit the market in town, too?”

“Definitely.” She leaned back, holding on to the doorframe. Like she was stretching out her back.

“You sore?”

“Nah.”

“Come here. I’ll rub your neck.”

She raised her eyebrows and he felt a surge of heat—that he had every intention of ignoring.

“And just your neck.”

She laughed gently and eased her way into his room, hips and nervous smile first. He sat up and swung his legs around so he was bracketing the corner of his bed, and he patted the space in front of him. “Sit here.”

Once she was settled, her hair tugged out of the way over one shoulder, he rubbed his hands together to warm them up, then squeezed her traps gently, rolling along the edges of the muscles on either side of her neck with his thumbs. “Right there?”

“Mmm.”

“Don’t hunch your shoulders up when you carry a pack.”

“It wasn’t heavy!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Bossy.”

“I’m right.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

He worked up and down the muscle until he felt her relax, then he carried the massage out to her shoulders and up into her hairline, then down her spine. Just a bit. Just enough to fully relax her.

Not at all because he wanted his hands on her body any way he could get it.

“Okay,” he said briskly, slapping his hands against his thighs. “Good?”

“Great.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I noticed a fruit tray and a pitcher of rum punch in our fridge. Want a drink before we head over for dinner?”

“Yep.”

“First one dressed gets the fancy star fruit!”

Should he tell her that star fruit, while pretty, were one of his least favorite tastes? “Sure. Race ya.”

Nope. He took his time getting dressed. He hadn’t brought a suit because the only one he’d packed for Atlanta was the one he’d worn on her wedding day and he’d burn it sooner than remind her of that, but he had a couple of dress shirts. He went for the white one, with his spare pair of black dress pants. No tie, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Belt and dress shoes that he’d taken the extra time to polish.

He took all the extra shit out of his wallet so it didn’t bulge in his back pocket, then waited for her door to open before he grabbed the villa key card and followed her into the living room.

“I won,” she said gleefully, doing a little fist pump that made her tits bounce.

Eyes off her tits.
Easier said than done when the little black dress she was wearing put them on display.

He blandly raised one eyebrow in acknowledgment of her victory. “Lucky girl.”

She hummed in pride as she reached for the thinly sliced star fruit. “Right?” She took a bite, then hesitated as the tart yet bland taste registered. “Huh,” she said around the mouthful and he cracked up. She swallowed and pointed at him. “You knew it tasted like that!”

“Yeah. Sorry. I was not in a hurry to win that race.”

“Jerk,” she said lovingly, and just like that, it really was fine that he’d kissed her earlier. Because that momentary foolishness didn’t change the fact he’d been yanking her chain for twenty years, would keep doing so for hopefully another twenty, and another after that. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

T
ori leaned back
in her chair and took another sip of her wine. Behind her, the ocean crashed against a rock retaining wall that edged the restaurant terrace. In front of her, her best friend was digging into a glorious looking steak.

Her own dinner, grilled chicken and a corn and tomato salad, sat mostly untouched. Not because she wasn’t hungry—she was, and she’d get back to it in a minute.

But she couldn’t stop sliding little glances Logan’s way when he wasn’t looking.

She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Kisses, really. Make-out session beneath the waterfall.

“I don’t think of you as my sister. I never have, and never will.”

She’d rolled that statement around in her head a million different ways tonight. And she’d been forced to realize that she’d never thought of him as her brother, either.

Which was a good thing, given how she’d reacted to his kisses earlier.

But where the hell did that leave them?

She set down her glass. She wasn’t going to find the answer at the bottom of a bottle. And her dinner wouldn’t eat itself.

“How is it?” Logan asked, glancing up.

“Delish.” She took a bite of the salad. It was, in fact. “Yours?”

He smirked. “Delish,” he said softly, mocking her word choice.

“Come all the way to the Caribbean and you go for steak and potatoes,” she teased right back. “How adventurous.”

His eyes darkened. “I had fish last night. But I usually expend all my adventurous spirit in other arenas.”

It was a total Logan thing to say, and she’d heard variations on it many times before. Tonight, though, the sexual overtones were more obvious.

How had she missed how hot he was? How casually dirty at every turn?

Although, no, she hadn’t missed that. But she’d never had first-hand knowledge of how accurate his bold statements could be. She’d always assumed he was just another player.

She frowned.

He frowned, too. “What?”

“When was the last time you dated someone?”

His mouth tightened. “Dated?”

Ew. “Don’t answer that if it was more than ten random hook-ups ago.”

“Jesus, Tori.”

And she’d ruined a perfectly good dinner in less than a minute. Her face heated up and she ducked her head. “Sorry.”

“Do we need to talk about what happened this afternoon?”

“Nope.” She speared another bite of her fish. “I was out of line.”

“The answer’s gonna surprise you. But it’s also opening Pandora’s box, too.”

She couldn’t look up at him. “I was supposed to get married two days ago.”

“I know.”

“This is my honeymoon.”

“I know.”

“It’s not appropriate—”

“Fuck what’s appropriate,” he growled. “We can just be friends, Tor. One hundred percent we can. Doesn’t matter if we kiss or anything else. I’m always gonna love you. I’m always going to be the guy who was there when you went over your handlebars when you were ten, and I cleaned gravel out of your palms and your knee. The guy who held your hair when you got piss drunk after prom. Who videotaped your graduations—all of them—and showed up to be the dude of honor at your God damn wedding even though it tore me up inside. I’m that guy. Nothing can change that. So if friendship is all you want, that’s what we’ll do. But if you can’t stop think about our kiss…I think our history gives us a pass on what’s appropriate.”

She jerked her head up as he spoke, and now she was gaping at him. She swallowed hard. “It tore you up inside?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek as he stared right back. Eventually, he changed the subject. “Eat your dinner.”

She rolled her eyes. So damn bossy. And unnecessarily so. She took a bite—then returned to the question. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because I’m not the right guy for you.” He stabbed his steak and cut off another piece.

“Says who?”

He dropped his fork and knife with a clatter and glared at her. “You.”