Page 20 of Winter’s Fire

From a subjective point of view, it was a whole new shitload of turn-on he didn’t need.

“He’s a good teacher. Why don’t you hit the shower, and I’ll make you some tea?” Anything to get his mind off her body.

For a second she looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “That would be lovely—if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Go.”

“Thank you.”

Her glacier-melting smile wasn’t the only attribute that snagged his attention as she sashayed out of the room. Her hips would be fucking perfect in his hands, and his body agreed. Logan gritted his teeth. Okay, less perfection, more tea-making, and absolutely no imagining. He didn’t need to conjure up pictures of bubbles sliding over silky skin, alluring curves and taut muscles, or elegant, feminine hands washing and rinsing that glorious cascade of hair.

He didn’t need to think of being in there with her, either, cupping her breasts in his palms so he could play with her nipples, nudging her thighs apart, and—

Somebody shoot me, please.

Tempted though he was to dunk his head in a sink full of cold water, Logan decided to wait for the full-body experience under the shower. Instead he took his mind off what was in danger of becoming a perpetual state of arousal by making the drink he’d promised Lucy.

The quietness of the small hours crowded in on him, smothering him in the claustrophobic blanket of an alternative reality, one where he didn’t have blood on his hands, where he could still have it all. Years ago, with the typical brashness of youth and inexperience, he hadn’t given any thought to settling down with one special woman—that was strictly for the birds, why would he want to turn his back on the steady stream of women who wanted to fuck a Royal?

Then he’d seen friends blown apart, young women made widows before they’d barely finished being brides, and his priorities had shifted. His interest in shallow liaisons had waned almost overnight, and dating became an expedition in search of what he most desired in a life partner. He thought he’d found his soul mate in Sophia, and then his world had come crashing down around his head when he’d returned from that deployment and found her in the bathroom at their apartment, a sight he’d never forget.

And then, in a monumental display of ego and selfishness, with Sophia barely cold in her grave, he’d gone on to invite himself into her sister’s bed, only to break up with her weeks later. He wasn’t proud of the brutal, clumsy way he’d ended that relationship.

And now there was Lucy. He smelled her before he heard her, that light floral scent drawing him out of the dark abyss of the past. He turned and there she stood, fresh and shining and all the pure things he’d never deserve for as long as he lived—a punishment for past sins and a warning for all time to come.

A few choice curses tumbled through his mind. He should have switched the main light on, used its cold, clinical glare to hold back the ebb and flow of intimacy. In the subtle, warming embrace of the wall lights, Lucy was living, breathing temptation in its purest, impure form. Without lifting a finger, without saying a word, she walked through his shields as if they didn’t exist.

“Your tea’s ready.” The words belly-crawled over broken glass as he slid the mug across the counter towards her. He couldn’t stay, didn’t dare, not with this toxic cocktail of need and want and self-hatred churning him up inside. He was weak, just a man—if he stayed around her like this, he’d only want more of her softness. He’d want more of her mouth, more of her breasts crushed against him, and more of the peace she unknowingly took with one hand but, he was certain, could give him back a thousandfold with the other.

Which he didn’t deserve—not now, not ever.

“Thank you. Aren’t you having something?”

“I’m going to clean up. Go to bed when you’re ready, but don’t be too late—we need to make an early start tomorrow.”

She sipped her tea. Her gaze sparkled at him over the rim of the mug, holding a smile that promised trouble for any Dom—or would, if she were really a sub. Trouble for him, at any rate, the kind he didn’t need.

“Logan, it’s almost 3 a.m. My alarm’s set to go off in around three hours. Part of me wonders if it’s worth it.”

He’d run missions on less, and learned to grab sleep whenever he could—three whole hours was mind-blowing luxury. “Trust me, it’s worth it. Never underestimate the value of sleeping and eating—in the field, you do both whenever you can.”

He didn’t insult her by waiting to make sure she did head for bed—she wasn’t a child in need of constant adult supervision, and he wasn’t going to start treating her like one now. Besides, if he didn’t get the hell away from her and regroup, he was going to do something that would add about another thousand feet to his personal mountain of regret.

When he emerged from the bathroom a short time later, there was no sign of her. Logan let out a long, slow breath. What a hell of a fucked-up day. Grabbing a glass of water, he retreated to his own room and dropped onto the bed.

The irony of his situation almost had him laughing out loud. Going for that run was supposed to help him sleep, but now he was more keyed up than ever. The source of his tension remained on the other side of the wall, but now there was a new ingredient in the mix. His view of Lucy had changed. She was no longer a necessary encumbrance for the sake of his cover, she was…

Logan dismissed the rebellious thoughts clawing their way out of the pit into which he’d thrown every desire for anything more than a service relationship with a sub. Those thoughts had no place in this mission—theirs was a working relationship, and that was all.

What he couldn’t afford to do, for his own sake and Lucy’s, and the sake of the mission, was give in to the weakness lurking inside the ashes of the life he’d once had. Except the short time he’d spent with Lucy had swept away those ashes, and in their place a new fire was smouldering, one that could easily become an inferno of lust if he lost control.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. Lucy was the kind of woman who deserved emotional commitment as well as physical pleasure.

What she deserved most of all, though, was the kind of future he’d forfeited his right to when Sophia had killed herself because of him.

Chapter 7

“We have a lot of ground to cover before we leave. We’ve made a good start, but we need to look at undercover work. I thought we could tackle that today.”