Fyre & Revenge (19 page)

“Christ, don’t
look at me like that Rae, or this is going to be the quickest fuck
you’ve ever had.” He dropped to his knees between her thighs. His
big body trembled as he hooked his hands under her knees and pulled
her towards him with a quick movement.

Rae laughed, on
the tail end of her climax and feeling better than she had in
months, years. “Whoa! Slow down Casa—” Her eyes widened as, without
warning, he reached between them and slid the broad head of his
cock against her heated flesh, slick from his tongue and her own
excitement. “—nova, I’m not going anywhere.”

She caught her
breath as he pushed into her. A small movement, just the head of
his cock pushing into her, stretching her. He moved again, sliding
in a little more, then sliding out almost all the way again. His
eyes locked onto hers, watching her every second as she watched
him. Saw the heat in the pale orbs flare each time he pushed
forwards, working himself deeper inside her with each short
movement. She shuddered, almost on the verge of coming again as her
body welcomed him, stretching around him.

He growled as
he pushed the last half inch, sliding into her to the hilt. Rae
shivered as she felt him pulse within her, his cock jerking in
response to the wet heat of her body. “That feels good,” she
whispered as she stroked a hand along his ribcage.

“Good, because
this is going to feel fan-bloody-tastic.” He moved, sliding nearly
all the way out and driving back in with a power that took Rae’s
breath away.

“Oh god, yes!”
She wrapped her legs about him as he set up a hard and fast rhythm.
Her body was slick and wet, more than prepared for him, so his
forcefulness only added to her excitement. The heat between them
drove higher with each thrust of his hips against hers, the only
sound in the room the slide and slap of skin against skin and her
soft moans. It was just the sort of sex Rae liked, not violent but
strong, powerful sex. The sort of sex that had her hot and bothered
for days afterwards just thinking about it.

She whimpered
as the tension she thought had been relieved by her earlier orgasm
returned tenfold, her pussy clamping tighter around him as he drove
into her. Braced on his arms above her his expression was tight,
controlled as he moved over her, within her. As though he was
holding on to every last bit of control he had. She moaned, the
need and pressure growing in her core as he thrust into her again
and again.

“That’s it Rae,
come for me, I want you to come all over my cock.” He buried his
face into the curve of her neck, his voice a growl as his lips
found the sensitive spot under her ear again.

She shuddered,
his words opening the floodgates. Her back arched, pleasure
exploding out from her core in a lazy spiral. The wet heat of her
climax flooded her channel, bathing his cock. He gasped as the heat
and tightness of her body around his drove him over the edge. With
a hoarse cry he slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing
and jerking as he came.

She was such a
hypocrite. Much later that night Rae lay on her back, Logan fast
asleep next to her, and studied the cracks in the ceiling. She
should really get that sorted. With a bit of filler and a lick of
paint, it would be as good as new. Well, maybe not as good as new,
since the building was over two hundred years old. She shook her
head, folding her arm under it as sleep continued to evade her.

She fidgeted,
her eyes moving over Logan’s sleeping form. He was an incredible
lover. Rae enjoyed sex, always had, but there was sex and there was
sex
. Logan elevated the mere act into something
approaching an art form. How many women had he been with to have
learnt all that? And why did she care? She was using him to get
what she wanted; his sexual history shouldn’t matter a jot to
her.

They’d made
love three times, twice downstairs and once after he’d carried her
up the stairs, giggling and protesting he couldn’t carry her weight
all the way. He’d silenced her with a kiss so hot she’d almost
melted into a puddle on the stairs right then.

She sighed,
resisting the urge to reach out and stroke gently along his arm. As
his ‘wife,’ she had it all—his love—and she was finding out that he
was a very loving, affectionate guy indeed… She huffed and turned
over, away from him, and pressed her eyes closed. Putting
temptation from her mind as she tried to sleep.

But she wasn’t
his wife. And the deeper she got into this, the more worried she
got that he
did
have a wife somewhere. He’d accepted the
presence of a wife, her presence, so readily. Surely he’d know,
deep down, if he was married or not? If he loved someone enough to
make a life-long commitment to them?

Would she?
She’d never felt that sort of love, the all-encompassing deeply
romantic love she’d have to feel to marry someone.

Perhaps that
was why she was single at the moment. She’d wanted what her parents
had before her mother’s death. A deep, true love that had lasted
years, even beyond the grave. Her father had been in love with
Rae’s mother to the day he had died, when he had succumbed to the
cancer he’d been successfully fighting. As though he lost the will
to fight.

She sighed and
punched the pillow, mangling it into a more comfortable shape for
her head. This time when she closed her eyes, she started to drift
into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The next
morning dawned bright and early, Rae slithering from the bed long
before Logan woke to shower, and headed downstairs to make
breakfast. She worked most Saturdays so she treated herself to time
off during the week, depending on what appointments she had on what
days. Today she had the entire morning free; her first appointment
of the day was Mrs. Collins at two o’clock.

“Heya
sleepyhead.” She smiled as Logan appeared in the doorway. Bare
chested, with his hair mussed from sleep, he looked adorable. Just
looking at him set her pulse racing. Perhaps it was the way he
moved, a loose-limbed walk as he headed for the coffee machine with
a grunt, hand scrubbing at his short hair.

He poured a mug
of the rich, dark liquid, his dark eyes closing in bliss as he
raised it to his lips and took a deep breath of the aromatic steam.
Rae busied herself at the stove, bizarrely pleased she’d gone to
the trouble of digging the thing out and cleaning it up so he could
have real coffee this morning. She made do with instant but she’d
wanted to do something, well, special. From the look on his face,
somewhere between relief and bliss, she knew she’d got it bang
on.

“How do you
like your eggs?” She nodded towards the chair to indicate he should
sit down. Deftly she moved pans around the stove, scooping tomatoes
and bacon onto a plate for him and adding toast.

“Err, well
done, flipped on both sides please.” Logan moved over to the chair,
collapsing into it to hunch over the table, his hands wrapped
protectively around his mug.

“Coming right
up.”

Within a minute
she pushed the plate onto the table next to him. She might not be a
gourmet cook but Rae knew all about hearty, home cooked meals. She
didn’t do them often—her hips would definitely
not
have
thanked her for that—but when she did cook breakfast, she liked to
do it right. Lean, crispy bacon, griddled tomatoes… The whole nine
yards. All topped off by thick toast with lashings of butter.

“I hope it’s
all right.” She felt a twinge of guilt as she slid into the seat
opposite Logan. She’d have to do another hour on the treadmill at
the gym to work this all off. Her teeth sank into the toast with
relish. Oh, but it was worth it.

“It looks
fantastic.” He assured her and silence fell as they ate. Before
long both their plates were clear and Logan leaned back in his seat
with a contented sigh.

“If that’s the
way you cook, will you marry me?” he asked, a teasing twinkle in
his eye.

“We… we’re
already married. Technically.” Rae paused a little on the lie, her
cheeks flaring scarlet and avoiding his gaze as she cleared up the
plates to carry them over to the sink. “So no, I can’t marry you.
You can’t marry someone twice.”

* * *

You can’t
marry someone twice
. The words revolved around in Logan’s head
as they walked along the narrow footpath down to the beach. He’d
managed to persuade Rae out of her planned cleaning routine to
accompany him on a walk. Just the sort of thing a guy desperately
trying to mend relations with his estranged wife would do.

He glanced at
her out of the corner of his eye as they walked in companionable
silence. He had to admit, even now, dressed for the cold in a thick
waxed jacket and boots, with her glorious hair covered by a cap,
she still stirred his blood. That was a surprise; he’d never
considered the country bumpkin look to be sexy.

But it was less
the clothes and more the woman in them. Usually he went for the
leggy model types. For no other reason than they littered his
preferred social scene and they were easy to pick up and discard.
He avoided women like Rae—women who didn’t play the game, women who
wanted the whole romantic fairytale of the two point four kids and
cutesy little house—as though they had the plague. He shivered and
jammed his hands further into the pockets of his borrowed jacket.
It was miles too big for him—she’d said it was her father’s—and
every time he moved cold air tried to worm its way up under his
shirt and thick sweater.

Actually you
could marry someone twice, provided you were already married to
them—a renewal of vows. But Logan hadn’t said anything, the way Rae
had turned her back telling him that subject was well and truly
closed.

His lips
quirked a little as she led the way down the ever-narrowing path,
an arrangement which should have allowed him to ogle her pert
little ass at his leisure. If not for the long foul weather jacket
she had on. Now
that
was why he liked the models… Skimpy
little dresses showing nearly all they had.

But, somehow,
even though the jacket was as unsexy as hell and was blocking his
view,
not
being able to see her figure swaddled under the
shapeless mass was even more alluring. His imagination worked
overtime, drawing on his memories of last night, as he imagined
what she looked like under there.

Last night, now
that had been something else. Logan considered himself a
connoisseur of women. He loved women, loved the way they looked and
felt. The little things they did, the perfume they wore. But
always, always he was the one in control, a player on the top of
his game.

Not last
night.

As untutored as
she was, Rae had wrested his honed control from him and reduced him
to a man desperate to claim the woman in his arms.

“I don’t know
why you wanted to come down here, it’s not sunbathing weather.” Rae
grumbled as she unlatched the gate that led to the beach and held
it open for him to come past her. “Hurry up, this thing’s heavy and
it’s got a hell of a kick on it when you let go.”

He frowned,
hurrying past her and turning to watch as she scooted through,
holding the gate at arm’s length to let go. Sure enough, the
pressure on the spring hinge snatched the wrought iron gate out of
her hand, the metal smacking against the post with a clang.

“Isn’t that
dangerous? You could have health and safety down on you like a
tonne of bricks for that.”

“Actually,
they’d be down on
you
,” she pointed out, burying her hands
in her pockets as quick as she could. “This scrubland and path are
part of the Manor property, and you, well your company at least,
own it. So, your gate, your problem.”

Logan laughed.
“Right, serves me right for being picky. I’ll ring in and get
someone onto it. I wouldn’t want a kid taking their fingers off or
something.”

Rae wrinkled
her nose, feeling guilty for needling him. This situation was
getting to her, really getting to her. She shouldn’t have let last
night happen—no way, no how—and the guilt was eating her up inside.
“Oh, it’s okay. The local children know to be careful.”

“Hmm, the
locals might but I assume you get tourists in the summer? There
might be an accident. Better safe than sorry. Anyway, enough
depressing stuff. We’re supposed to be relaxing…” With that he
scooped her up, Rae squeaking in surprise at the sudden
movement.

“Logan! What
are you doing?” She grabbed his shoulders tightly as he spun her
around and around, although she knew there was no way he’d drop
her. In his arms she felt safe and secure.

“Having fun!”
He dropped a quick kiss on her lips as he put her down. “Come on,
last one to the water washes up later!”

Rae laughed and
shook her head as he took off along the sand like a big kid. She
followed at a more leisurely pace, wondering how long it had been
since he relaxed, really relaxed, like this. Their walk took them
the length of the beach, Logan becoming quite the beachcomber,
investigating each washed up clump of seaweed tangled debris with
an enthusiasm that reminded Rae of her father.

Logan, for his
part, was surprising even himself. Much as he’d grumbled mentally
about being stuck here in the back of beyond for the next few days,
he was finding the place did have its charms. Well, other than
Rae.

He squatted by
a clump of brackish seaweed, sorting through it with a short stick
he’d picked up earlier for anything interesting. It was surprising
what could be found washed up, he mused, shifting a clump of
seaweed. Then he saw it.

Buried under
the wet mass was a perfectly heart-shaped shell.

He reached out
and plucked it from the wet sand, using his fingertips to brush off
the grains that clung to it. He wasn’t a shell expert but even he
could tell it was unusual, the shape not caused by damage but
seemed to have formed that way. There was even a tiny hole in the
vee at the top of the heart, perfect for a chain.