Eight
Callie stood at the island in the middle of the kitchen, leaning over a mug of ginger tea. A long nap had cured her hangover, and she had even managed to eat a full meal. After reading and lying around, she was starting to feel restless. She thought about going for a jog, but it had been raining on and off, and she didn't feel like getting stranded outside in a downpour. Besides, she had been looking out the window toward the dock every few minutes, waiting for Logan's return. She tried to tell herself that it was her job to stay close to him, to keep track of what he was doing, but she knew she wanted him to come back for other reasons.
When she saw Logan's vintage speed boat pull up to the dock, her heart skipped a beat. She tried to remind herself to act cool and not to do anything stupid. She could spend time with Logan without crossing the line again. How much time she could spend before crossing the line remained to be seen, but, for the moment, she just wanted him to make that walk from the dock to her door as quickly as possible.
As he approached, Callie grabbed a newspaper and tried to pretend that she hadn't noticed him. "Hello? Come in," she said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Logan stepped into the kitchen, and she smiled. "Oh, it's you. Any ideas of what there is to do around here when it's raining?"
Logan's shirt was soaked through from rain, and it clung to his broad shoulders. Callie couldn't help but wonder if she should offer to take the shirt and find him something dry. Had that been his plan from the beginning? She cleared her throat and said, "Anything?"
"There are a few things that come to mind, but the rain is only necessary for a few of them."
"Do I even want to know?" Callie asked.
"It depends. How flexible are you?"
"Just because I kissed you doesn't mean you get to hit on me nonstop."
"Just intermittently?"
"I suppose that works for me. She smiled, "So come on, what is there to do around here?"
"I know. How about I give you a tour of the house?"
"How much more is there to see?" Callie said with a laugh. "I can see the whole place from kitchen to bedroom from my seat right here."
"I meant the mansion. Did my father ever tell you the story behind it?"
Callie shook her head. Other than instructions for how to keep his son in line, Hank hadn't told her much of anything.
"Come with me and I'll show you then. It's more fun to tour the house when it’s raining anyway."
"Why's that?" Callie asked.
"Because it feels like it's its own world when it's raining. That, and it's haunted."
"You're kidding, right?"
Logan smirked at her and declined to answer. "Why do you think I choose to sleep on a boat when I have a perfectly good mansion at my disposal?"
"I thought you didn't want to live in your father's house," Callie said.
"Either that or I'm afraid to spend the night there. I'll let you decide which version you believe once I've given you the tour, but I can assure you that the past few decades have been the quietest in the history of the home. Before that, this house was infamous."
"Infamous?" Callie asked. This whole trip, she had been hoping to keep Logan away from anything even remotely 'infamous.'
"Come on, I'll tell you the story while we walk."
"It's pouring out, Logan."
"There's nothing wrong with getting a little wet. Come on. It's a short walk. I promise, you'll survive."
"Don't you have an umbrella or something?"
"Of course. I have several. They're all up in the mansion. I promise the walk back down here will be bone dry."
"It's not the walk back I'm worried about," Callie said.
***
Logan took Callie's hand and led her out onto the lawn. The ground was soft underfoot, and he felt each and every raindrop as it hit his skin, fat drops of water that hit with weight and speed. They'd be lucky to make it to the house without getting caught in a downpour. The rain had picked up in the few minutes since he had stepped inside the guesthouse, and with each passing moment, it grew heavier. He kept his fingers entwined in hers as he walked. Her warm palm made him feel grounded as gust after gust of wind rose up from over the ocean and blew the rain against their backs.
Within the first few steps, Callie's hair was already soaked. The wind blew it into her face, and the stray strands stuck to her cheek and her forehead. Logan reached over and brushed back her hair, taking a moment to admire her eyes. There was something about her that was even more beautiful when she wasn't trying, a natural grace in the way she walked and in the gentle curves of each of her features.
Logan wanted to stop right there in the middle of the wide lawn and just marvel at her. He wanted to stare into her eyes and press his lips against hers again. He wanted to feel that warmth and excitement. He wanted to feel it over and over again. He tightened his grip on her palm as they approached the house. For the first time in a long time, there was no place he'd rather be, and no one he'd rather be with. Of course, explaining that feeling to Callie was out of the question.
The way she smiled drove him wild. It tied his stomach in knots and made him say stupid things. He moved closer to her as they stepped up onto the mansion's wide patio and slid his arm around her. Her shirt was soaked through, clinging to her every curve. Lucky shirt, he thought. "Did I tell you the walk came with a complimentary outdoor shower?"
"Funny," Callie said. "I thought you said that it wasn't raining hard."
"I can assure you that inside the house it is not raining."
"I'd be concerned if that weren't the case."
"Well, it's probably large enough inside to have its own weather." Logan pushed open one of the back doors and stepped into a parlor. "You're soaked," he said. "Change of plans. I'm going to find something dry for you to wear."
"Let me guess: all I have to do is take off my wet clothes."
"Callie, come on, do you really think I'd be that rude of a host?" Logan asked. He grinned as he waited for a response. "I'll take them off for you."
Callie gave Logan a playful tap on the arm and smirked. "Well, if you keep this up, I'll definitely win our bet. You know I have a perfectly dry wardrobe down at the guesthouse." As she finished her sentence, a gust of wind blew the door shut behind them.
"That would mean going back out in the storm. Let's take the door slamming as a sign that we're supposed to stay here for a while. Follow me, and I'll get you something comfortable to wear. Or you could just wear nothing."
"Wouldn't you like that?" Callie said flatly. Her tone grew harsh and she crossed her arms. "I think I might take my chances with the storm."
"Easy there," Logan said, "I was just kidding. You can come with me, and I'll get you something to wear, or you can wait here and I'll come back with something."
"I'm not sure I should leave you out of my sight."
"To the bedroom it is."
"Don't get any ideas."
"Who, me? Lucky for you, there's not a thought in this head of mine."
"No?" Callie asked coyly. "Well, I kind of figured you do your thinking somewhere else."
Logan laughed. "I've been accused of that in the past. Then again, you say it like it's a bad thing."
"No, not at all. Cleaning up after men like you pays my bills."
"Come on, haven't I already told you that there are no other men like me?"
"That's what all men like you say. It's what allows you to keep screwing things up. You think you're the exception to the rule."
"Well, haven't you ever at least wanted to be the one making the mess instead of running around trying to fix everything? Sometimes things should stay broken."
"I like what I do. Sure, some parts of the job suck, but others are fun. I like the challenge of it, the rush. I'm sure it's similar to how you feel whenever you're starting a new venture, except you don't have any time to think or plan and all you get to do is react and hope everything turns out alright."
Logan smiled. "But do you love it?" He watched Callie pause and look at him. He was still trying to be playful, but he could tell he had touched on something deeper. "Forget I asked that. I don't want to get in trouble with the Haven clan. Next thing I know you'll have that aunt of yours on me like you did at your sister's wedding."
"You know, Vi still talks about you."
"Only woman I've ever met who I couldn't keep up with."
"Is that true?"
"Closer to true than I'd like to admit. She is a wonderful dancer, though."
"I'll make sure to tell her you said that."
"Why don't we keep that between us? Come on. I'll find something dry for you to wear." Logan led Callie up a back staircase to his bedroom. His clothes had soaked through as well, and his pants clung to his body as he started taking off his shirt. "Luckily I have most of my wardrobe here at the house. There's only so much that can go on the boat. He flicked on a light and tossed his wet shirt into a corner. "Let me see if I have anything that might work for you."
Logan stepped into his closet and looked down a row of shirts. There had to be something that Callie could wear until her clothes dried. He turned around to ask her what she'd prefer when he caught a glimpse of her through the half closed door. She had pulled her shirt off and he could see the slight lines of her ribs and the curve of her bra. Logan's pulse jumped as he continued to look at her. His mind went blank as he watched her movements. He looked up and noted the graceful lines of her body, and he knew he should look away, but he just couldn't. He felt like he was rooted in place. Finally, Callie met his gaze, and Logan tried to say something, anything to break the silence. "Maybe you can pick one?"
"Sure," Callie said, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe you could give me a little privacy first.”
"Ha, yeah, of course," Logan said, regaining his composure. He had seen so many women in so many states of undress over the years, but none of them had made him feel like that. For a moment, he asked himself how he was letting Callie get to him like that, but he already knew the answer. He was letting himself fall for her. Logan wondered if he should stop himself, if he should really let this happen. He knew if he waited another moment, he'd set a chain of events in motion that he just might not be able to undo. There'd be no way to go back to simply being flirty friends or acquaintances or whatever he and Callie were. The only question was whether she really wanted him or if she'd regret it as soon as it was over.
The whole thing played out in his head. She'd be too reserved to reach out and take what she wanted. Instead, he'd look down for a moment and look back up just soon enough to catch her looking back. He'd half smile and bite his lip. She'd do the same and start to blush a little, and then they'd continue on their way, making excuses to make contact, a light push here or there, a hand on the back at the end of a joke, and then, after a while, one of them would make a move. It didn't matter who. It just mattered that they would go for each other, that they would push everything else away and collapse into each other.
Then the heat would rise. He'd feel her skin still wet against his. He'd feel her desire, her need. He'd hear her hurried breaths as she locked her lips against his, as she became more and more aroused. He'd rip the buttons off of her shirt and kiss her chest, his own arousal taking over. The two of them would tumble onto the floor and start tearing their clothes off as they ached to feel the rush, and then he'd slide inside her. The lines between them would blur as they rocked their bodies against each other. As he imagined all of this, Logan became aware of his breathing deepening. His cheeks were flush with excitement, and he realized Callie hadn't looked away for a moment. Instead she walked straight across the room, planted her lips against his and kissed him.
This kiss was different. There was no hesitation, no subtlety. She wanted him, and he wanted her, and as Logan slid his tongue against Callie's lower lip, he pressed his body against hers. He could feel her heat, her arousal, and a wave of need crashed through him. He ran his hands up her bare thighs. Her skin was so smooth and soft. By the time he reached her hips, he could barely contain his excitement. He was hard with arousal. He pulled her tight against himself and leaned in harder to her kiss. He held her with one hand and ran the other over her shirt, reaching for the top button. "I need you," he whispered.
Callie didn't say anything in response, but she kissed his neck and held herself against him. With his hand over her chest, he felt the hint of her nipple, and he traced his finger back toward the collar, fumbling with the buttons one by one as he opened the shirt, exposing more of her skin with each movement. He couldn't wait to tear that shirt off. He wanted to get beneath, wanted to expose every inch of her feminine form. By the time he reached her belt, he was delirious with excitement, and he pulled it hard, unbuckling it and tossing it onto the floor. He was so excited, so entranced by Callie that he had barely noticed her doing the same thing to him. God, every inch of her was perfect.
By the time he had undone the final button, he was surprised to find that his shirt was open, too, and his belt undone. Callie was already running her hands over the ridges of his ribs as she kissed his chest. “Now,” she whispered between breaths. Then she raised her lips back to his, and he knew he couldn't wait another moment to have her.
The warmth of her body against his body thrilled him, and as he felt her breasts and her stomach and her hips pressed against him, he felt a new surge of arousal. Callie had noticed, too, and she ground herself against his erection as he ran his hands up and down her body. His heart raced, sweat broke out across his body. He could smell her sweet perfume, and he ached to feel himself inside her. He slipped his fingers beneath the straps of her panties and pulled them down to her knees. Sliding one hand back between her legs, he felt her heat and her arousal. She moaned with delight, and he knew he couldn't wait another moment.
Logan grabbed Callie's hips and picked her up, placing her down on the bed. He jumped in next to her, and Callie swung her leg over him and settled down on his lap, grinding her hips against his. "Condom," she said. She pulled his boxers off and pressed herself against him again. He swung his arm over to the nightstand and ripped the drawer open, reaching into the back corner to grab the condom. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and pulled it out. Without another word, Callie grabbed it and slid it over his length. "Now," she said.
Logan didn't need to hear another word. He slid his hands over Callie's hips and pulled her down against himself. She moaned into his ear as he sank into her, kissing her, sliding his tongue against hers before she bit down on his lower lip. As he began to thrust, she tensed herself against him and let out a long, hot breath against his cheek. She moved slowly against him only for a moment, and with each motion of his body against hers, each caress, each rock of his hips, she sped the tempo, grinding against him with passionate abandon. They crashed into each other again and again, like waves in a storm, gaining strength and momentum with each passing moment.
Pure pleasure flooded through him as he locked his body against hers in a furious, rhythmic tangle. Each thrust and rock brought him closer and closer to climax, but it was something more than that, something more than sex. He felt connected, like they were two halves of a whole, that when he felt a desire, she moved in response, racing against him in a rising spiral of need and breath and excitement. This was something more than sex. He knew it. This connection was more intense than any he had ever felt. As the pace quickened, Logan tried to hold on longer, but he couldn't. He had to give in. Jesus. He moaned in delight, and he felt the whole world brighten around him. The pleasure pounding inside his head was so intense that he could barely hear Callie's cries of delight, but he felt her fingers dig in as she began to climax, and he closed his eyes and let his mind go blank with bliss.