Run the Risk. Lori Foster

damn, damn. Flopping over to his back with a groan, Logan stared toward the ceiling, hot, frustrated, but mostly troubled. From the knees down, his legs hung over the end of the bed.

      The part the rain had soaked.

      The wind howled eerily, suiting his mood. Thunder crashed, and he felt it in his chest.

      He didn’t want things to end like this.

      He rose up on one arm. “Sue?” It amazed him that he kept the forethought to continue using her alias. There remained just enough light filtering in for him to see her shadowy form as she lifted her skirt.

      Lust tied him in knots. He drew in necessary oxygen. “What are you doing?”

      “Taking off my panties.” She dropped them on the floor and crossed to the window to close the heavy curtains. “Only my panties.”

      His heart thundered. “Yeah, all right.” Lust cut into him. When he felt her approach, he dropped back to the bed in an agony of suspense, breath held, erection straining.

      Her hands went to the fastening of his jeans. With a small tug, she opened the snap. “I shouldn’t do this,” she said.

      He heartily disagreed.

      She pushed his jeans down to his knees. “I’ll probably regret it.”

      He wouldn’t let her feel regret. Somehow he’d make it okay—

      Her hand curled around him, and his thoughts shattered on a rough groan.

      Keeping his cock held tight in her small, hot hand, she climbed onto the bed to straddle his hips. She’d lifted her skirt; her panties were indeed gone. “Please don’t ruin this for me, Logan.”

      “No.” Hell, no. “I won’t.”

      Sitting back a little, she stroked him once, then released him. “Can you put on this condom?”

      Where the hell had she gotten it?

      Screw it, he didn’t care. He found her hand in the darkness and took the rubber from her. “Yeah, no problem.” Amazing that he felt so close; it hadn’t been that long for him. He shouldn’t be so wired, so fucking desperate to get inside her.

      She was plain, timid, with a nondescript build and more secrets than he could count.

      She was a pawn in his scheme to corral the murderous Morton Andrews.

      But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      LOGAN LOVED SEX, always had, always would. No two ways about that. Somehow, with Pepper Yates and all her coy rules and seductive timidity, it felt different. Scorching. Salacious.

      Like a kinky fantasy come to life.

      Her soft bare thighs opened over his hips. Not touching her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He fisted his hands in the damp sheets of her bed.

      Again she wrapped her small hand around him. “I can feel you pulsing,” she whispered.

      God. “Tell me what you need, honey.”

      “You,” she said. “Inside me.” And with that, she moved over him, positioning him, moving the head of his cock against her hot, slick flesh.

      He couldn’t remember ever being so turned on, so primed. “You’re wet,” he said with savage satisfaction. She gave him so little…but he had this.

      “I know.” She sank down the tiniest bit, caught her breath and hesitated.

      Shaking all over, Logan held himself as still as he could. Jaw tight, he waited. He could barely see her, but her scent was stronger now, her body clamping around him, alternately squeezing him, then softening again with devastating effect.

      It was a snug fit, and with her only working the sensitive head, he thought he’d lose it. Through his teeth, he said, “More, Sue.” He drew a harsh breath. “Now, or it’ll be over before it begins.”

      “I’m sorry.” She braced a hand flat on his chest and pressed down, rocking a little, working herself down over him. “It’s been a while for me.”

      “You need me to touch you, to help ready you—”

      “No.” Now with both hands on his chest, she gasped, and sank more.

      Heels to the floor, Logan lifted up and pressed himself as deep as he could go until he’d buried himself inside her.

      He heard her vibrating groan and felt the way her inner muscles worked him.

      “Yeah?” Anchoring himself so he wouldn’t forget and reach for her, he waited.

      “Yes,” she breathed.

      Thank God. He drove up into her again and again. He wanted to hold her hips, he wanted to free her breasts and suck on her nipples.

      But all he had was this, and it was so damned erotic, he had to concentrate hard to keep from coming.

      They found the perfect rhythm together. Her nails curled into his pectoral muscles, then kneaded him in pleasure. He growled, and she purred.

      “Let me kiss you,” he said. He needed at least that. “Give me your mouth.”

      Lowering to her forearms, she bit his bottom lip, kissed him hard, licked her tongue against his. This new position drove him even deeper, brought her clitoris into contact with his shaft with each solid thrust—and he felt the start of her climax.

      Against his mouth she cried out, still kissing him with hunger, grinding herself against him, harder and faster.

      Suddenly she arched back with a harsh moan, riding out her orgasm, and more than anything Logan wished he could see her.

      Letting himself go, he groaned with her, stunned by the power of what she made him feel, by her physical and emotional appeal. The release continued until he was drained, until the aftershocks faded and she sprawled down over him, a limp, sweet weight over his heart.

      They were half off the bed, half on it, as lax as the sheets.

      Carefully, Logan settled his hands on her narrow back. “Okay?”

      “Mmm.” She kissed his sweaty chest, nuzzled her nose against him and said with clear regret, “It’s such a shame that you have to go.”

      * * *

      HE WENT STILL beneath her, then rigid. “Is that a joke?”

      On a long, melancholy sigh, Pepper levered herself up over him. “No.” She patted his rock-hard shoulder, disengaged their bodies, and left the bed. “I wish you could stay.” She really, really did. “But I’m sorry. You can’t.”

      “You’re kicking me out?” He sat up in disbelief. “Now?”

      “Yes.” If only the lights would come back on first so she could get a good look at him. But darkness prevailed. She moved away and opened the curtains again. “It’s getting late.”

      “It’s only half an hour later than it was before we got in bed!”

      True. Unfortunately, prolonged foreplay wasn’t in the works for them. Trying to ignore his irritation, she started out of the room. “I need a shower.”

      He was off the bed in a heartbeat, stepping into her path, blocking her retreat.

      Offended.

      Given her current frame of mind—sort of soft and distracted and…susceptible—it was a good thing he’d pulled up his jeans. They were still open, and now that she’d parted the drapes again, she could see his abdomen…and lower. But at least she didn’t see all of him, everything that she’d touched, stroked.

      The thick flesh that had filled her up.

      Her heart beat in a slow,