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  His brows rose. “You have a pale blue aura that you have to work on? What, like a ring of blue…around you?” He was looking at me as if I was a total fruitcake. I’d seen the look before when I’d explained auras to people.

  “Yes, my Aunt Belinda, God rest her soul, used to see it the best. She could tell what mood I was in when I visited even before I said anything.”

  “And…and do I have an aura?” He glanced down at his arms as if searching for a ring of color.

  “Oh yes, but you can’t see your own. Yours is blood red with black lines streaking through it.” I studied him. “Though there’s not as much black today. Perhaps it was that upsetting your balance, making you lose your temper when you were playing.”

  “Black streaks.” He shook his head. “In my aura?”

  “Yes, they can’t be good for you, not really.”

  “You’re saying black streaks in my aura caused me to pummel Yusof?”

  “More than likely. Having just one pure color is the thing to strive for.”

  “And how do I get that?”

  “Keep hanging out with me, I guess,” I said with a smile. “It seems my aura is cleansing yours.”

  His brow furrowed and his wound creased. “You really believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  He huffed. “Well, if you cleansed it this morning I reckon you sent it completely black when we got back here.” He placed his beer on the table and I studied three neat lines on his shirt stretching between his shoulder blades as he leaned forward.

  “So tell me the rules,” I said, feigning fascination at a penalty shot. “I’ve never watched a game of ice hockey in my life.”

  “Brooke.” He sat back up.

  “Mmm?”

  “Was it something I did? I could use the feedback.”

  “It was nothing you did.” My heart did a flip of remorse. I should never have let it go so far. I should never have led him on by kissing him first.

  “You just didn’t like making out with a thick jock like me, eh?”

  “Logan, you might be thickset but there’s nothing thick about you.” My gaze scanned his shirt, tight around his biceps, then dropped lower to his wide, powerful thighs.

  He grunted. “Yeah, well there’s obviously something fundamentally wrong with me. Like the guys said, I turned Tina off the whole male species.”

  I looked at his handsome features, stiff with worry and frustration. “I’m sure you get plenty of offers from slim, glamorous ‘rink bunnies’.”

  “Yeah, sure, but they’re exactly that, rink bunnies. They’re false and they just want to date a hockey player. They don’t want to date me. If I worked in a bank, or on a construction site, they wouldn’t be interested.” His gaze scanned down my t-shirt and sweatpants. “Besides, I don’t like skinny girls,” he said flatly. “I like women, women who are soft and have curves in all the right places. Women who look and feel like women. And I like women who like me for me, not because I’m good at whacking a puck into a net.”

  I looked into his eyes for a sign that he was lying. Did he really like my curvy shape? There was no shifting of his irises, his words had been honest. It meant a lot to a girl who’d struggled to maintain a positive relationship with hips that wouldn’t fit into skinny jeans and breasts that needed support at all times. “I like you for you,” I said, my insides melting at his openness. “A lot.”

  “Yeah, right.” He folded his arms over his chest and studied the screen.

  Suddenly I saw a way to fix my karma. I could prove to Logan just how much I liked him and do something about the white-hot lust that he’d injected into my veins. I would simply refuse the money from Fergal. I still had my job at The Grill because I’d taken leave to come to the island. So I could revert to my original plan of working my way through nursing college. The bonus being, I’d have had a fabulous holiday to catch up on study, for free, and to top it all off, the company of a gorgeous, sexy guy.

  Karma would be restored.

  Simple.

  I placed my empty wineglass on the table and moved closer to Logan. “I really am sorry about earlier. If I could explain I would.”

  His looked at me and his gaze dropped to my mouth. I thought for a second he might shift away, but he didn’t. He stayed very still, frozen, as if exerting considerable willpower to remain motionless with his hands in his lap.

  “Perhaps you’ll let me make it up to you,” I said quietly. I could already feel my body crying out for his. The remembered sensation of those lips on my naked flesh had my heart rate picking up and blood pooling in my pelvis.

  “What, and have you walk away again?” He ran his tongue ran over his bottom lip, coating it in a soft sheen. “And leave me in need of another damn cold shower.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I pressed the palm of my hand to his stubbled jawline and kept his focus on me. “I’m staying right here.” I moved my head so close our noses touched. “On this very soft, very long sofa.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “And I’m going to take off all these old clothes,” I whispered onto his mouth. “If that helps persuade you to let me make it up to you.”

  Heat smoldered from his intense gaze. “I’m persuaded,” he murmured, just before his lips took possession of mine. His kiss was still gentle but hotter than before, and there was an urgency to it now as well. His tongue plundered in, caught mine and started a crazy dance that took my breath away.

  I felt his hands brush my stomach as he curled his fingers under my t-shirt, pulling it over my head and freeing my messy ponytail from its band. My hair settled on my bare shoulders, tickling the hypersensitive flesh. I got the feeling he wasn’t going to give me a chance to change my mind this time. But he didn’t need to worry, I was buzzing for him, as desperate as he was to pick up where we’d left off.

  He paused in his kissing and looked at the white satin bra I was wearing. “Now that’s not old,” he said in a rumbling voice, brushing the tip of his thumb over the scalloped lace of the cup. “But I want it off anyway.”

  He slid his hands up my spine and released the hooks of my bra, smoothing the straps down my arms and dropping it to the floor. My breasts hung heavy and free, aching with longing, my skin tightening in anticipation of Logan’s touch. He reached out and cupped the heavy underside of my left breast, filling his hand with my pale flesh and brushing his thumb over the nipple as he kissed me again.

  Both nipples tightened and twisted deliciously. I reached for the top button of his shirt and, with fumbling fingers, freed it. Logan pulled back, released my breast and, without taking his hungry gaze from my chest, fisted his shirt between his shoulders and dragged it over his head.

  Immediately the temperature cranked up. His strong body heat and divine scent had me squirming with impatience. The sight of his beautiful chest had my hands itching to touch him.

  But Logan didn’t reach for me again, instead he stood, towering above me. He retrieved his wallet from his pocket, dropped it on the table and stepped out of his shorts, revealing tight black boxers. Then he stooped, wrapped an arm around my waist and effortlessly slid me lengthways along the couch so I was on my back looking up at him. “These have definitely seen better days,” he said, tugging at my sweatpants with determined fingers.

  “I agree.” I lifted my hips so he could pull them, along with my white panties, down my legs and over my feet.

  He shoved a hand through his hair and looked down at me sprawled naked on the couch. His eyes glistened with lust.

  “And Phoenix is going to wish he was here!” the commentator shouted from the TV. The crowd erupted. The whiz of skates slicing over ice filled the room. “Phoenix will be so sorry to miss this.”

  “Oh no, I’m not,” Logan said with a decidedly feral grin and hitting mute on the remote. “I’m exactly where I want to be. This is much more fun than work.”

  The only sounds now were our rapid breaths, the wind screeching over the roof and the big, flat leav
es whipping against the kitchen window. It was as though all my senses were amplified, heightened, and I was part of the storm, our passion was part of nature—it was meant to be.

  Logan dropped, kneeling half on the floor, half on the sofa. He pushed up my knees, resting my left leg over his shoulder. He planted a kiss on my navel and settled his rounded biceps against my inner thighs. “You’re so soft,” he murmured. “Everything about you is so soft and smooth and…” He dropped a kiss lower, in the center of my small patch of blonde pubic hair. “And tastes delicious.”

  I looked down between my heaving breasts and tried to control a quiver running up my spine as he tilted my hips to his face. “You like that I’m soft…?” I managed as his gaze lingered on my exposed pussy. “You like that I’m soft and not all toned from the gym?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He smiled up at me, a dark delicious smile that promised a whole load of sin. “And I’m gonna show you just how much I like it.” He ducked his head and I was left looking at that white scar through his hair, again. The delicate flesh on my inner thigh trembled at the moist touch of his tongue and the scratch of his chin. I dropped my head on the cushion and let out a small moan of appreciation as his fingers found my slick flesh, touching and separating my lips, pulling back the hood of my clitoris and exposing its dampness to the air.

  His mouth was only a second behind his fingers, kissing and licking briefly before he created a solid, hot suction over my clit. It had been so long since Sam had treated me to this. He much preferred me doing all the work when it came to oral sex. And now the immediate, wild, barely remembered sensation stole my breath away. My toes and fingers curled as a deep moan of pleasure escaped my throat. “Oh god, Logan,” I said, arching my back and clenching my fists at the sudden and devastatingly accurate aim of his caress. “That’s it, just there.”

  He continued for a long, heavenly minute then released my clit and began to explore lower with his tongue, delving into my entrance with the tip and then spreading my desire for him into every crease and crevice of my pussy lips. My head fell to the side, my eyes squeezed shut. He was building me up so fast.

  He upped the pressure and captured my clit again in a deep, luscious kiss, setting up a rhythm around my needy nub with his tongue. His fingers teased, hovering at my entrance but barely dipping in.

  “Please,” I said, shifting my pelvis toward him. I felt like an empty vessel that needed to be filled. “Please, I need you…in me.”

  He pushed one thick finger in right to the knuckle. I gripped him hard with my internal muscles. The first tug of an orgasm called my name and I moaned in appreciation as he stroked over my G-spot.

  He treated me to another finger, filling me deliciously then withdrawing. The climax was there, in the pit of my stomach, building like a rocket getting ready for takeoff. Having him sucking on my clit and filling me with his fingers was about to spin me out of control.

  “Logan,” I panted. “I’m going to—”

  He pulled his fingers out, lifted his face from between my legs and wiped his mouth on the back of his forearm. “Wait for me, sweetie,” he said, reaching for his wallet. The foot draped over his shoulder fell to the floor with a whump. He took out a blue foil package and tore at the wrapper with his teeth.

  My vision blurred and my desperate clit was buzzing. Logan shoved off his boxers and released his erection. He hadn’t been joking earlier when he’d said he was big. He rolled the condom down his thick shaft and then loomed over me, one knee on the sofa, the other foot planted on the floor. I grabbed for his hard shoulders and stared into his eyes, which flooded with need and greed as he positioned himself.

  I wrapped one leg around his waist and smoothed my palms over his marble-hard shoulders. He lowered his face and as his warm, musky tongue entered my mouth, pushed his cock into my body. I was so ready, so wet, but still the size of him stretching me, invading me had me groaning at the sweetest, most delicious bite of pain imaginable.

  “You’re not going anywhere now, are you?” he asked in a voice as smooth as velvet but at the same time as rough as sandpaper.

  “No,” I said, dragging my fingers through his mussed-up hair. “No way. I’m staying…right…here.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m just about to go past…” He pulled out and shoved back in. “The point of no return.”

  “I’ve…gone…past…that,” I panted on the breaths expelled from my lungs with the force of each one of his now-hammering thrusts.

  “So have I….” He gritted his teeth. “Is it good for you, Brooke?”

  “God, yes.” I cupped his cheeks in my hands and stared up at his face. “So good, Logan, you feel so good.”

  He pumped his hips faster, harder and I clung, welcoming each pound of his powerful muscles. His cock was so hard, rubbing over every spot on my internal walls perfectly and filling me completely.

  He kissed me again, his tongue gliding in and around my mouth. His breaths became hard and sharp as he increased to an even stronger, faster tempo. I bucked up to meet him and his body pressed against my clit, hard and relentless, drawing me closer to orgasm. I reveled in the exquisite pleasure he was generating deep within me. Each wild push stroked me toward the explosion, an explosion that held all the promise of an almighty climax.

  He tore his mouth from mine and ducked to suckle my nipple. I groaned with delight—mixed with everything else going on in my body the sensation was exaggerated, intensified. His driving hips didn’t let up as he nibbled and sucked then switched to the other breast, treating it to the same lapping and caressing.

  “Logan,” I said, grasping his shoulders and feeling my clit preparing to reach the pinnacle of sensation. “Come…come with me.”

  He raised his head and stared deep into my eyes without a pause in rhythm. “Now?”

  “Yes…now.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, yes…”

  He plunged in, deeper, farther, raw power behind the all-consuming movement. It was no longer harnessed and controlled, he was taking what he wanted. Taking what he needed from my body. I sucked in a breath, suspended in a moment of pure ecstasy.

  I tumbled over the edge. My whole world splintered, shattered and my pussy erupted into a series of potent spasms that rocked me to my core. I cried out, overwhelmed, wrapping my arms around his body and sinking my nails into his back. I spasmed and pulsed around his cock as lights burst before my eyelids.

  He thrust one last time, buried as deep as he could possibly go. His body turned to granite and he swore like the bad boy hockey player he was. He scooped his arms beneath me and held me fixed against his chest. Then he, too, was pulsing, pumping inside me, and with his face nestled in my neck, his breath whooshed from his lungs into my ear louder than any storm.

  My internal muscles gripped him, held him and absorbed his last delicious pulsations as I tried to catch my breath around his weight.

  “That was…” he said, lifting slightly and relaxing his crushing hold. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such trouble waiting. Stamina is usually my forte but Christ, you sap it away, Brooke.”

  I sucked in a great breath of air. “Is that a good thing?”

  “It sure feels good.” A crooked smile twisted his mouth. “It just means I might need a little extra training while we’re here.”

  “Mmm.” I grinned, smoothing my hands over his tense butt cheeks. “I think we were in perfect synchrony, but practice can be arranged if that’s what you really want.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s definitely what I want.”

  Logan withdrew and stood, pulling off the condom. He walked naked to the kitchen and I heard the trash bin lid lift.

  “You always have a condom in your wallet?” I asked, sitting upright and pushing hair from my face.

  “Yeah, habit left over from college years—I was ever hopeful.”

  “Only one?” I wriggled into my panties.

  “Yeah, only one.” He walked back over carrying two glasses of water and
pulled on his boxers. “But don’t panic, I noticed Fergal keeps a stash in the main bathroom cabinet.” He gave a little snort of amusement. “I bet he brings his girlfriend here all the time, don’t you?”

  I took a sip of water and reached for my bra. “He’s married to Sheila.”

  Logan frowned and sank onto the sofa. “Oh, yeah, sorry, of course he is.”

  “You think he’s got a girlfriend?”

  “I can’t discuss that with you, can I?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well you probably know Sheila if your families are friends.”

  “No, er, I haven’t seen Sheila in years.”

  “Oh, well in that case, yeah, Fergal has a girlfriend. It’s common knowledge amongst the guys, she’s a young hottie.” He shrugged. “If you like that look.”

  “What look?”

  “Overly made up, stick thin and always teetering about on high heels—you know the sort.”

  “Really, but he’s so old.”

  “Yeah, old and rich. I guess she likes the rich part best.”

  I thought of Giselle. She was always perfectly made up, very thin, had an unhealthy obsession with stilettos, and she was definitely interested in Fergal’s money. I had no doubt in my mind that Logan was talking about her.

  I took a deep, purifying breath and put my arms through my bra straps. Whatever Giselle and Fergal got up to in the villa was not the same as what Logan and I had just done.

  “Do you really need to put that on?” Logan said, eying my bra as I lifted my breasts into the cups.

  “Yes,” I said through a smile. “I do.”

  “Well it won’t be on for long, trust me…” He gave a naughty smile. “That was just a warm-up, remember?”

  We watched the rest of the game in our underwear. Logan explained to me about icing calls and penalties and I tried to keep up with the difference between points and goals.

  I became distracted when Logan reached for my sore foot at the second period break and carefully peeled off the bandage to check my wounds. Satisfied I wasn’t about to drop down dead, he rubbed and massaged my foot, ankle and calf. His big hands were surprisingly gentle for a man who spent most of his time ramming people into boards and whacking pucks with a stick. He swapped to the other foot just before Brick scored a winning goal in the final minute.