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Logan turned off the water and reached for a towel. He dried off, then pulled on his jeans and shirt, leaving his briefs, socks and shoes in a pile inside the spare bedroom door before going to find Sadie. He hadn’t been out of the game so long that he thought it was a good idea to seduce a woman in the same clothes he’d worn to rebuild a fence, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to talk to her and he wasn’t about to do that naked.
Hearing the clink of bottles, he headed for the kitchen. Sadie stood by the fridge, a beer in each hand, wearing an oversize gray T-shirt that only just reached the smooth white skin of her bare-naked upper thighs—and nothing else. At least, not that he could see. She shifted her weight and the shirt rode up a half inch on her right leg, revealing a hint of black lace.
His mouth went dry. As far as signals went, this one was crystal clear. Sadie planned to move beyond kissing.
Logan dragged his gaze away from her legs. With her long red hair hanging down her back, she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed to raid the fridge. Across her chest, he read the word MARINE. The way the fabric moved, he suspected she’d ditched her bra. He wanted to touch and find out. But he had to wait. Talk to her. Even if it killed him.
She smiled. “How about that beer?”
Logan nodded, taking the bottle. Still eyeing her T-shirt, he said, “We need to talk.”
“Look I know you’re army, but until I do laundry, I’m stuck with my dad’s old shirt.”
She walked past him, through the archway and across the hall into the living room. Logan followed, unable to take his eyes off the way the T-shirt brushed against the back of her legs as she moved. Just knowing that shirt could ride up at any moment sent his body into ready-for-action mode.
He looked away, fighting for self-control. The living room held a pair of brown leather chairs and a leather couch. A round, low coffee table stood in the middle with a matching end table between the two chairs. The furniture was dated, but clean. Aunt Lou wouldn’t have it any other way. On the floor lay a brown shag rug.
Sadie sat in the middle of the sofa, curling her long legs up under her. Logan chose the armchair across the table, knowing if he touched her skin he’d be toast.
“I wasn’t talking about the shirt. I have nothing against the marines.” He kept his gaze fixed on her, his fingers playing with the bottle. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an ass.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“I can handle something physical, but that’s it.”
“So just hot sex?”
“Yes.” He waited for her to uncurl her bare legs and walk away.
She brought her beer to her lips and took a sip. “Okay.”
It was a damn good thing self-control had been drilled into him during training or he would have pounced on her. “That works for you?”
Sadie smiled, her expression a tantalizing mix of sweetness, understanding and pure sin. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
This woman, with mile-long legs and a body that could take a man from zero to sixty in seconds, wanted to stay off the market? “Why not?”
“I tend to put everything I have into my career. Mostly at the expense of my personal relationships. My work is important to me. Especially right now. I’m at a crossroads.”
He nodded, not quite following her. But what did he know about writing novels about a girl’s journey to self-discovery?
“Laurel also needs me. And so does my dad,” she said, turning the beer bottle around in her hands as she spoke. “I don’t have space in my life for a relationship, especially not after I return to the city. In a way, that makes us almost perfect for each other.”
He could go to bed with her, laugh with her and then, when he finally got the call, return to active duty—this time with good memories instead of a boatload of grief. “Yeah. I guess it does.”
Her brow furrowed. “Were you looking for another answer? If you wanted out, if this is too much for you, just say so.”
He shook his head. He wanted this. Her. Now that he knew they were on the same page, that he wasn’t leading her on, the only thing running through his head was touch her, feel her, claim her. The primal need had thrust him so far out of his comfort zone he could barely think straight.
Logan set his full beer on the small table between the chairs. The sight of Sadie in that shirt was intoxicating enough; he didn’t need alcohol. Resting his elbows on his knees, he looked her straight in the eyes, watching and waiting. Knowing when to take action, it was part of his job. But it had been so long since he’d been in thi
s situation, he wasn’t sure of his next move.
Sadie leaned forward, setting her beer on the ground. Slowly, like a cat settling in for a nap, she rested her forearms on the couch and extended her legs behind her. She made a pillow for her head with her hands and rested her cheek, her gaze still fixed on him.
One quick glance told him as much, but he couldn’t keep his eyes on her face. Not anymore. Her T-shirt had ridden up the back of her thighs, revealing her black lace panties. His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body ready and waiting for a go.
“After two days of farm chores, I think I need a massage,” she said in the same light and playful tone he remembered from the bookstore.
