Going All In (34 page)

“Yeah?” He slid her panties over the boots and down her legs, then let them fall to the floor.

“I think you could make me a little happier tonight.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded and licked her lips. “Yes. Please.”

Callie was growing more adventurous and bold with their sexual games, and he was thoroughly enjoying the benefits of her newfound sexuality. His cock twitched and his heart beat erratically as he unbuckled his belt and slipped it free, then unsnapped and unzipped his jeans.

When his cock sprang free, she wrapped her hand around him and pulled an upward stroke that had him groaning deep in his throat. He stepped up to the table and pulled her to the edge, then slid into her in one long thrust.

Callie wrapped her ankles around the backs of his legs and used the heels of her boots to spur him on, urging him to take her hard and fast. Happy to oblige, he drove into her in long, pounding strokes, and within minutes, both of them were crashing over the edge into orgasmic bliss.

She collapsed against his chest and gasped for air while he wrapped his hands around the back of her head and held her close. When her breathing returned to normal, she said, “Thank you. I love my boots.”

He kissed her forehead, her temple, and the corner of her mouth. With his lips against hers, he said, “I like them too. But I love you.”

Other books in the
Heat Wave
series are:

Saving Me (Heat Wave Novel #1)

Last Call (Heat Wave Novel #2)

Crossing Lines (Heat Wave Novel #3)

A Matter of Time (Heat Wave Novel #5)

Each book in the
Heat Wave
series stands alone and can be read out of order.

Keep reading for a sneak peak preview of
MATTER OF TIME (Heat Wave Novel #5)
.

Sixteen Years Ago…

“L
izbeth Sanders, stop for one minute and look at me. I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush to get back to college. You’ve never hurried off like this before.”

Ignoring her mother’s command, Lizbeth continued to the large walk-in closet and slipped another dress off its hanger. A silly image of a Disney princess twirling around her room, humming and singing with the joy of being madly in love with Prince Charming, flitted through her mind. The only thing she needed to make the scene complete were forest animals lining the windowsills and bluebirds fluttering around her head.

“Classes don’t start for another three days.” Her mother tried again when Lizbeth failed to acquiesce to her demand to stop throwing clothes in the suitcase. “Why don’t you stay through the weekend?” When Lizbeth returned to the closet for another dress and a pair of pants, her mother modified her approach. “At least stay for dinner.”

“Mother,” Lizbeth said while trying to summon a well of patience to keep her blissful bubble intact. “I’ve been here two weeks. It’s not like I breezed in this afternoon only to turn around and leave a few hours later.”

“I know,” her mother said with a sigh as she settled onto the end of the bed. “But we won’t see you again until Thanksgiving, and we miss you. What’s so important you need to rush back today anyway?”

Logan Steele.

Just thinking his name had Lizbeth’s heart swelling with love and her head swimming with excitement and anticipation for the weekend ahead. Since her roommate wasn’t returning until Sunday, Lizbeth and Logan would still have the apartment to themselves. And after being separated for two long weeks, they had a lot of catching up to do.

But her mother didn’t need to know any of that, so Lizbeth smiled and said, “I’m just excited to get back and see all my friends. Not many stayed in Raleigh for the summer.”

At least that part was true. And because most of their friends, including her roommate Stephanie, left for the summer, Lizbeth and Logan had spent months playing house, living together in Lizbeth and Stephanie’s apartment, getting a glimpse of the future. They now had a clear picture of what life would be like once they finished school and were married, and they were anxious to get started on their life together.

Breaking into her thoughts, her mother said, “Why do I think there’s more you’re not telling me?”

Lizbeth laughed as she stuffed a cashmere sweater into her suitcase, then turned and hugged her mother. “I’m in college. I don’t tell you lots of things. And trust me. You don’t really want to hear them.”

“There must be a boy involved,” her mother mused. “There’s always a boy.”

Not like this one,
Lizbeth thought.
There’ll never be another one like Logan
.

Even his identical twin Lucas didn’t compare to the man Lizbeth had fallen in love with. They might be identical in their physical appearance, with the exception of Logan’s scar that resulted from a nearly fatal motorcycle accident, but their inner essence couldn’t be more different. Both were good, honest men who possessed an exorbitant amount of confidence and swagger. But Logan made Lizbeth feel alive and safe and protected in a way she’d never felt with anyone.

On the surface, Lucas should’ve been the twin she fell for. He was polished and refined and would’ve fit in nicely with her family and the upper crust her parents associated with. But Logan, in his jeans, T-shirts, and motorcycle boots, was the one she burned for, the one she never wanted to live without.

She’d never experienced the kind of love she felt for Logan, and from the moment her eyes settled on him her freshman year at NC State, she knew he was the one. He’d been a sophomore and still trying to sort through his feelings for his on-again, off-again high school sweetheart, Bobbi Jo. Through Lizbeth’s freshman and sophomore year, they kept their relationship platonic, but when he came back to school last fall as a free agent, everything changed.

They’d been nearly inseparable since that first night, which was part of the reason they decided to take summer classes. They didn’t want to be apart for three months, and by going straight through the summer, he could graduate in December and start racing Supercross full time in January.

At twenty-two, he was several years older than most competitors just joining the full-time circuit, but he chose to see that as an advantage. He’d continued to race on a part-time basis to stay competitive, and he was religious about his workouts, which kept him healthy and race-ready. His body hadn’t sustained the abuse and injuries a lot of competitors dealt with, and mentally, his intense focus and determination backed by the additional years of maturity made him a force to be reckoned with.

His travel schedule would be rough, but by keeping Raleigh as his home base, they hoped to have a couple days together each week.

If there were any questions about how difficult the separation would be, the past two weeks of hell had answered them. When he called her last evening to tell her he would be back in Raleigh by lunchtime today, she’d started a mental countdown until they were together again. And now that it was past noon, she couldn’t wait another minute to get on the road.

Three hours later, she drove past her apartment and headed straight to the condo Logan shared with Lucas. They’d agreed to meet at her place at seven, but when they last talked, he sounded like something was wrong, and she was concerned. He tried to play it off as being tired and stressed because his last race hadn’t gone well, but she needed to see for herself that he was in one piece and hadn’t suffered any serious injuries.

His truck was backed up to his building, his motorcycle still loaded in the bed. Since he normally kept the bike locked in a friend’s garage, her concern escalated. She jumped from her car and took the stairs two at a time, then pounded on the door. When no one immediately answered, she knocked again, more forcefully.

She was about to beat again when Lucas jerked the door open and yelled, “What?” His irritation shifted to shock upon seeing her, and he whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder into the living room. Turning back to her, he said, “Lizbeth… what are you doing here?”

His alarm at her appearance, something that was as common as the sun rising, caused panic to dance across her skin. It wasn’t her imagination. Something was wrong—seriously wrong—and the sheen of moisture coating her skin from the August heat and humidity turned into a cold sweat as she struggled to catch her breath.

Crossing her arms over her stomach to squelch the rising nausea as well as hide her trembling, she said, “What’s going on, Lucas? Where’s Logan?”

As if on cue, Logan swung around the corner of his bedroom and headed down the hall, carrying a large cardboard box. He wasn’t wearing a cast… no limp… but he appeared tired and worn down and seemed barely able to carry the box in his arms. In general, he looked like hell. And that was before he glanced up and saw her standing in the doorway.

He froze in place, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. His surprise quickly switched to anguish as his brows drew down over his moss-green eyes and his mouth pinched at the corners. He crumpled forward, as if punched in the gut, and her name whispered out on a sharp exhale.

Panic and despair filled his expression as he cut his eyes to Lucas, seemingly searching for help.

Returning his gaze to her, he said, “I thought we were meeting at your place.” His voice always sounded like he’d swallowed broken glass—a result of the accident that severely damaged his vocal chords—but today it was completely broken. His shoulders slumped forward even more, and he muttered, “Come on in,” before continuing toward the living room.

Lucas stepped to the side and let her pass, then quickly shut the door. Stopping in front of Logan, he pressed his hand to his shoulder, as if trying to give his brother a booster shot of strength, and said, “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

She scanned the living room and realized nearly all the contents of Logan’s room were either boxed up or piled in the corner. Her mind scrambled to understand as the mood in the room plummeted from sad to morose, like a member of the family had died.

The stupid forest animals evaporated and the bluebirds twittering around her head crashed to the ground.

Her earlier elation was choked out by twisted fingers of fear squeezing her throat. “What’s going on, Logan?” She rotated in a circle and let her gaze settle on the items scattered about. His clothes, his racing gear, his shaving kit… everything he owned was ready to be carried out to his truck. Panic numbed her lips. Her tongue was so thick, her mouth so dry she could barely speak. “Where…?” She swallowed and licked her lips and tried again. “Where are you going?”

He dropped the box onto a pile, ran his hands over his short black hair, then dropped onto the sofa as if his legs wouldn’t hold him up any longer. Lifting glassy, tear-filled eyes to her, he said, “Sit down, Lizbeth. We need to talk.”