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“Oh, you know me.” Logan turns to me. “I like to mansplain," he says with self-irony. “But”—his mouth curls up in a wicked grin—“I might let you drink from my canteen if you ask nicely.”
“You have water?” I drained my reserves a long while ago.
“I refilled multiple canteens before we left; figured clean water would be a priority.”
Nice thinking, Professor.
Mouth parched, I make to grab the bottle from him.
“Not even a please.” With a grin, Logan hands me the canteen, cap already off.
I take the bottle from him and gulp down the liquid in lengthy swallows.
“Uh, sorry, but we’re back to rationing.” Logan pulls the canteen toward himself and, after taking a small sip, screws the cap back on. “We don’t know when we’ll find fresh water again. And I only have one more bottle after this.”
I dry my mouth on the back of my hand and nod in understanding. “Please tell me we can at least wash up in the river water.” Dried smears of mud pull at my skin wherever the rainwater didn’t reach, making me itchy.
Logan stares at the river. The waters are calm compared to the rapids flowing under the bridge, and there’s a natural pool of clear blue-green water that would be perfect to take a bath.
“Tucker would say it isn’t safe,” Logan muses. “But I want to wash up and change, too. Let’s be quick about it, though.” He makes a hurry-up gesture. “We need to be done and dry before it gets dark.”
Self-consciously, I peel off my tattered clothes. In all the days we’ve been in the jungle together, this is the first time Logan is my shower buddy. Back at camp, I’ve mostly gone with Tucker, sometimes Archie. Never Logan.
Okay, I must be this nervous because I’m not wearing a bikini and have to bathe in my underwear. And it’s not like I’m clad in a lacy bra and G-string; my black cotton sports bra and panties could pass for a bathing suit. But they aren’t. I know it. He knows it.
As I take off my pants, Archie’s words from a few days ago ring in my ears louder than gunshots. “It’s the sexual tension, honey. Trust me, just get it out of your system and you’ll feel better… And hate sex can be amazing.”
I pretend not to watch as Logan unbuttons his shredded shirt and lays it over a large rock to dry. His ripped chest and abs, still coated in a thin patina of sweat, glisten enticingly in the late afternoon light.
Before he can look my way and see me half-naked, I wade into the water until I’m neck deep. I undo my tresses and comb my fingers through my hair, rinsing away the last of the mud. I have a clean shirt in my backpack, but no extra pants. So I’d better wash those, too.
“Hey,” I call. “Can you throw me my pants? I want to wash them.” I eye his, now decorated with twin bloody knee patches. “You should wash yours, too.”
Shirtless, Logan throws my pants in the water, where they land a few feet away from me with a loud splash.
I look up at him, ready to give the professor a sarcastic, “Thanks,” but when my eyes lock on his, the word gets strangled in my throat. Never taking his gaze off me, Logan undoes his belt, slowly slides it out of its loops, and drops it on the rock at his feet. Then, as he starts unbuttoning his pants, he says, “You might want to take a hold of those before the current carries them away.”
Like a slap in the face, his words yank me out of the spell. I glare at his smug smirk and paddle after my pants that are indeed being carried downriver.
By the time I turn again, Logan is cannonballing into the natural pool, his pants flying behind him as he holds them in one hand.
He resurfaces a second later, shaking droplets of water out of his hair.
My mouth goes dry.
Pecs deep in the water, with tiny pearls of the liquid dotting his skin like a million shining crystals, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
No. NO. Because he’s no man. He’s Satan. Better to keep reminding myself; I can’t let a few muscles scramble my brain.
But, staring at Logan’s glittery skin, that might be easier said than done.
Oh my gosh, I’m experiencing theTwilighteffect. When Bella sees Edward in direct sunlight for the first time and his skin sparkles. Like Bella with Edward, I can’t take my eyes off Logan. He’s a demon and has me in his thrall.
Only, having spent so much time alone with him over the past two days, I’ve learned Dr. Logan Spencer has many more layers than I initially thought. Lately, my hate-Logan wall has been filling with cracks, and right now it feels like it’s crumbling down. Yes, he can be gruff and standoffish, but also kind, comforting, brave, sexy as hell…
Here we go again. Somebody, please exorcize me.
“Are you washing those, or what?” Logan asks, a teasing note audible in his voice. As if he’s all too aware of the effect his semi-nakedness is having on me. “We should get out soon if we want enough time for our clothes to dry off.”
