Friction. Part 5

"Well, I can point out some of the constellations for you, if you want to know."

Her face brightened again, and she smiled. It took his breath away.

"Please." She poked her finger up into the air, indicating a pattern she saw. "Is that something?"

"Yes. Here, see. You'll know this one." He pulled her over in front of him, snuggling her close and grasping her extended arm by the wrist, helping her make a connection from one star to another until she inhaled sharply.

"The Big Dipper?"

Logan smiled, loving the soft warmth of her up against him and the surprised pleasure in her voice. His head was clearing from the beer, but his blood was still buzzing.

"Right. I knew you would know that one. Everyone has to have heard of it, if not seen it."

"Show me another one."

He lifted her hand again, and drew her arm down, then across, in the shape of a cross.

"The Southern Cross?" she guessed hesitantly, and he dissented.

"The Southern Cross can't be seen from here. This one is Cygnus, the Swan. But it is also known as the Northern Cross."

"It looks like a cross, not a swan."

He chuckled, inhaling the scent of her hair, the clean scent of her shampoo mixing headily with the ocean breeze.

"True. But see, the bird is in flight...this star is Deneb, Arabic for tail, as in the tail feathers of the bird. He's diving through the sky..."

She stared, silent, and he risked the moment to bend his face into her neck, losing himself in the softness he found there. Her voice hitched a little, though she didn't move away or discourage him.

"I guess I can see that."

Logan lost all interest in the sky as he turned her to face him and made it clear he didn't want to discuss stars any further as his lips found hers. They were alone on the beach, and it was dark all around them. Private.

There was no preliminary kissing, no get-to-know-you nibble, just hot, carnal plundering of each other's mouths, and he felt his knees shake and his body go rock-hard all over. She was softer than he'd imagined, and she moved against him in an invitation he wanted to accept, that his body insisted he accept. Unable to stop kissing her, he slid his hand up under her tank top, ma.s.saging her b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the thin cotton bra she wore, and swallowed her deep moan.

He moved his hands down, tugging her shorts lower and then pulling them down to her feet as he sank to his knees, running his hands over her, memorizing her shape and scent as he released her feet from her garments and nudged her thighs apart with kisses.

"More...let me in..."

She accommodated, though he sensed her hesitation, and he cupped her gently between her legs, investigating, rea.s.suring. Her breath came quickly and she moved slightly against him. He looked up; her head had lolled to the side, her eyes closed, fists clenched. He smiled, dragging his tongue along the crease of hip and thigh where her skin had not been touched by the bug spray and felt her shudder, parting even farther for him.

She tasted like honey and salt, flowers and s.e.x, and he groaned against her, wanting more. Widening her, he darted his tongue inward and was rewarded to feel her muscles jerk in a sharp response. He slid his tongue deeper, finding the sensitive nub of flesh he sought, a hot pearl hidden in between silky folds, and drew it between his lips, softly tugging.

"Oh...G.o.d...."

He pulled away just for a second. Her eyes were still closed, her face a study in mindless pleasure.

"Say my name, sweetheart, Sarah. Say my name when I make you come...."

His mouth was back on her, nibbling, nipping, sucking until her head spun, and she managed to whisper his name, wanting what he was giving her, needing it on a profound level that she could barely understand. She buried her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, focusing on the pleasure he was giving her as the shadows crowded around her.

She struggled. The usual demons danced around the edge of her pleasure-saturated brain, disappearing for a moment when she felt him slide one finger deep inside her, then two.... She could do it, she could enjoy him making love to her, set her thoughts aside and just feel what he was doing....

But her conscious mind rea.s.serted itself and she opened her eyes, looked down...she tried to concentrate only on the pleasure as he knelt before her, but the deadening chill started in her chest, worked its way out as images flooded her brain, and what she saw invaded what she felt.

"Stop...Logan, ah, please...stop...."

He did, immediately, looking up in concern. He stood, his breath ragged, and she could feel the heat from his body emanating toward hers. This was so unfair. For both of them. She shouldn't have let this happen.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He reached to touch her, but stopped, unsure.

"No, no..." G.o.d, how could she explain this without seeming to be the worst kind of tease? She didn't want to tell him the truth, and grasped at some kind of rational explanation. "I just...couldn't."

She couldn't see his expression clearly enough to know what he was thinking, but she felt relief course though her when he backed off, bending to grab her clothes from the sand, shaking out her shorts and handing them to her. She slipped them on quickly, feeling awkward and miserable.

"I'm sorry, I-"

He tipped her chin toward him, and she made out a smile. "No apologies, honey. This can only be good if it's good for both of us, and there's time."

Sarah sagged, feeling both relieved and saddened. He didn't understand that there might never be a good time for this. Not for her. Her mind was poisoned against it, even as her body pleaded for his touch.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the sand beside him.

"C'mon, sit down."

"I'd better get going."

He paused, clearly unsure what to make of her response.

"Just sit for a moment."

She did, and he blew out a breath, looking out over the darkness of the Bay. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She searched for words, and didn't really find any.

"I just lost it, you know, it happens, maybe too much beer-"

Logan wasn't buying such a half-a.s.sed explanation, and it was his nature to talk about things plainly. "I'm not an expert, but I know enough to know you were close to coming, and something happened to pull you back. If not me, not something I did, then what?" His tone was rich with patience and warmth. She felt like an idiot. "You can tell me, Sarah. I wish you would, in fact. I don't like thinking I did something to chill you like that."

"Really, it wasn't you. Promise. I-I...it's nothing. Just a thing. I see a lot of...bad things, in my work. It gets to the point where I can't get them out of my head. This isn't the first time it's interfered with me having a satisfying s.e.x life, so believe me, it's not you." She looked away-it was all he was going to get from her. It was all she was prepared to give.

He was gazing at her too intently, and she needed to get away. She turned to get up, felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, I'm sorry to push. You don't have to talk about it. I had a good time tonight. You want to get together and do something tomorrow?"

His request took her by surprise, and she blinked. Was he asking her on a date?

"Like what?"

"Something that doesn't involve alcohol, maybe?"

She smiled, feeling that little tug she always seemed to get with him. Surprisingly, she wanted to spend more time with him, even if it was going nowhere. Standing, she took a deep breath as he lifted up easily to stand beside her.

"Okay. I guess I could meet you at breakfast and we can decide then."

He stepped closer, and she felt her breath catch. He looked hot and handsome, and some of the tingle between her legs started up again, amazingly.

"And Sarah?"

"Huh?"

He leaned in, grazing her lips with a kiss that was light and yet incredibly scorching.

"You taste like heaven."

He took her hand and started walking back toward the inn without another word.

SARAH WOKE UP the next morning fully clothed and with the feeling she was terribly late. Late for what? the next morning fully clothed and with the feeling she was terribly late. Late for what?

She glanced at her clock, struggling to clear her head. She'd slept late, exhausted after a restless night, to say the least.

Logan.

The events of the night before flooded back and she groaned. They had a date. How had she ended up agreeing to a date? Feeling heat invade her cheeks, she knew. Too many beers and too many nights alone had loosened her up just a little too much, softened her inhibitions. What he'd done had felt...good. Very good.

Abbreviated as it was, it was the best s.e.x she'd had in a long time. Usually she didn't even get that far, but apparently the alcohol helped her move past some of her blocks. Just not enough. She made a face, recalling his surprise when she'd asked him to stop. And much to his credit, he had. Without anger or even a hint of impatience, with apparently no thought to his own satisfaction, he'd stopped.

If only he hadn't broken the spell when he spoke, maybe she could have blocked it out until she'd come. But that wouldn't have been fair to him, since she wouldn't have been able to go further.

What was she going to do now?

The inn provided breakfast between eight and ten, and it was nine-thirty. Her stomach growled, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stripping quickly and flying into the shower.

Regardless of her bad judgment the night before, she was hungry, and she didn't want to be rude. She'd said she'd meet him for breakfast, and she would. Now that her head was clear, she could get things back where they should be. He'd probably taken off by now, anyway.

LOGAN SAT with his cup of coffee, wondering if Sarah was bagging on him. He was beat, but looked forward to seeing her again in the bright light of day. He'd stayed up, his body raring to go, and he'd used the excess energy to work on getting that connection going again-with no luck. He couldn't work on it during the day when someone might notice; he had to do it at night. with his cup of coffee, wondering if Sarah was bagging on him. He was beat, but looked forward to seeing her again in the bright light of day. He'd stayed up, his body raring to go, and he'd used the excess energy to work on getting that connection going again-with no luck. He couldn't work on it during the day when someone might notice; he had to do it at night.

And at this rate, he wouldn't be doing it at all. Looking out the window, he let the conversation around him fall to the background as he remembered what had happened the night before. He could still detect her slight scent on his skin.

It was almost ten. She hadn't come to breakfast, hadn't left a message. Something had sent her running last night, and she'd said it wasn't him-she'd been enjoying herself until something had gotten between them, and he wanted to find out what it was.

She said she saw bad things in her work, things that stuck in her head. Did she work with abused women? Children? In a hospital? Was she a rape or abuse counselor? Had she herself suffered such a violation? He'd had some training in that area, the basics all cops needed to know. It made him sick to think something like that happened to anyone, and it filled him with rage to think it might have happened to Sarah.

He took a deep breath. Or was she just snowing him, giving him some trumped-up excuse to put him off? Maybe he'd freaked her out going down on her like that? But no. She'd been into it, until something had chilled her. He wanted to find out what so he could chase those chills away.

He wanted to find out everything he could about Sarah Jessup. Tough as nails, he knew, she was also vulnerable and s.e.xy-she kept herself protected, at a distance, and he wanted to break through. He wanted her again, as soon as he could make sure she felt the same way.

If he ever actually saw or spoke to her again, that is.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he looked up to see her enter the room, s.e.xy as h.e.l.l in low-rider jeans and a cropped white T-s.h.i.+rt that sported the logo of a cheesecake store on it. The sight of her toned stomach nearly had him licking his lips. Instead, he focused on the sungla.s.ses she was wearing even inside. She slid into a chair next to him, reaching for the carafe of coffee.

"Hungover?"

"Not quite, but definitely a little rough around the edges."

"Didn't sleep well?" He lowered his voice and let his tone suggest that maybe he was the reason why. It was clear by her grin she wasn't going to feed his ego.

"No, in fact, I slept like a baby...could hardly drag myself out of bed."

He peeked at his watch. "I can see that."

She looked at him over the top of her gla.s.ses in the way that he was starting to love and he saw her gorgeous eyes were only slightly blurry, with just a tiny bit of red that didn't matter at all. He wondered if he could get her to keep the gla.s.ses on in bed....

"Yeah, sorry about that. I tend to keep late hours, and sleep in the morning. At least, I used to, before-"

She stopped suddenly, and he was curious about the end of her sentence, watching her layer a generous spoonful of peanut b.u.t.ter over a flaky croissant-interesting choice. Sarah was nothing if not unconventional.

"Before what?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. Just work talk, and we decided none of that, remember?"

He watched her closely as she ate, mesmerized by the movements of her mouth, and curious about why she seemed almost relieved not to talk about work. His curiosity was going to have to wait for the moment.

"You're right. We did agree. A better topic is what we might do today."

Sarah stalled, watching him pop some grapes in his mouth as he waited for her to respond, not taking his eyes off of her. There was only one other couple left at the table, and they looked over at Sarah, still masked behind her dark sungla.s.ses as she ate.

"There are museums littered all up and down the sh.o.r.e," the woman, a preppy twentysomething with a wholesome face and too much energy, said, waving her hands in enthusiasm. "We're doing a tour of them each day. Today we're going to the Debtor's Prison museum and the Railway museum. I'm a history major, getting my Ph.D. at Johns Hopkins, so I just can't get enough of museums. Dennis indulges me, though I know there are other things he'd rather do, but it's so hot out, and the museums are beautiful, especially these small, local ones."

She bubbled in her seat, leaning over to shake Logan's hand. "I'm Tansy, by the way. We're Tansy and Dennis DuBois."

Sarah had stopped eating midbite, wondering if she was going to have to administer CPR. The woman, who Sarah suspected might pa.s.s out before she got to the end of what she was saying, had barely taken a breath.

"That all sounds really interesting-" Logan was obviously trying to be polite. It didn't sound interesting at all as far as Sarah was concerned.

"Oh! I know!" Tansy popped around in her chair, grabbing the shoulder of an obviously adoring Dennis. "You could come with us! Are you here together?"

"No."

Sarah spoke the word a little more harshly than she meant to-she hadn't really meant to speak at all, but she wasn't taking any chances that Logan might agree that it was a good idea for them to go museum hopping.