Chapter 40
Rachel woke to pale morning light filtering through the windows, soft and diffused. She was warm beneath the sheets, Ghost's solid presence beside her radiating heat.
The house was caught in that early morning quiet, no birds yet, no cars passing, just the distant rhythmic sound of waves and the barely audible hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
She stretched slowly, careful not to wake him. Her body felt different this morning. Pleasantly sore in places she'd never really paid attention to before. The inside of her thighs. Her hips. Between her legs where he'd been last night, patient and thorough and devastating.
She rolled onto her side to look at him.
Ghost lay on his back, head turned slightly toward her on the pillow.
One arm was bent behind his head, the other rested low on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath.
His face was relaxed in sleep, all those hard lines softened.
She'd never seen him this unguarded before.
Even when he slept, there was usually a tension in him, like some part of his brain never quite shut off. But this morning he looked peaceful.
Her gaze drifted lower. The sheet had slipped down to his hips during the night, pooling just below his navel. And beneath the thin white cotton, she could see him, hard and straining against the fabric.
Seeing him, knowing what he felt like, what he could do to her... heat flooded through her belly and lower.
She bit her lip, suddenly wide awake.
He looked good like this. All that lean muscle and controlled strength finally at rest. The defined lines of his chest and abdomen. The cut of muscle at his hips disappearing beneath the sheet. The faint trail of dark hair below his navel.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Rachel slipped beneath the covers.
The air under the sheet was warmer, thick with the smell of him, that cedar scent and something else, something distinctly male that made her mouth water.
She moved carefully, her hand settling on his stomach first. His skin was hot beneath her palm, the muscles hard even in sleep.
She felt his breath shift slightly, but he didn't wake.
Her fingers trailed lower, skimming over the ridges of his abs, tracing the V of muscle that led down, then wrapped her hand around him.
He was thick and hard, pulsing slightly against her palm.
His hips jerked, the reaction immediate and involuntary. She heard him inhale sharply above her, a quiet sound that might have been her name.
He was hot and heavy in her palm, the skin softer than she expected over the hard length. She stroked him once, base to tip, watching the way his stomach muscles contracted, then again, slower this time, her thumb brushing over the head.
His breathing changed. Deeper. Faster. His fingers fisted in the sheets.
"Fuck," he muttered low and thick with sleep.
Rachel looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, but his jaw was tight, his whole body going tense under her touch.
She lowered her mouth to him.
The first touch of her tongue made him groan, low and startled, like he'd just realized what was happening. She licked up the underside of him, feeling the thick vein pulse against her tongue, tasting salt and clean skin.
Then she wrapped her lips around the head and sucked.
"Jesus—Rachel—" His hand shot down, tangling in her hair. Not pushing or pulling, just holding on like he needed something to anchor him.
She took him deeper, relaxing her jaw, her hand working the base where her mouth couldn't reach.
She'd only done this once before, years ago, and she'd been terrible at it.
But this felt different. She wanted this.
Wanted to make him feel good. Wanted to wreck him the way he'd wrecked her last night.
She hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, her tongue working along the underside, and his hips bucked up involuntarily.
"Shit—sorry—" His voice was wrecked already.
She hummed around him, letting him know it was okay, and the vibration made him curse again. His hand tightened in her hair, his whole body going rigid.
She found a rhythm, down and up, her hand and mouth working together, her other hand braced on his hip to feel every tremor running through him.
He was throbbing against her tongue, getting harder, and she could feel him getting close.
His breathing had turned ragged, his thighs tensing on either side of her.
"Baby," he groaned, his voice barely recognizable. "I'm gonna—you need to—"
She didn't pull back. She took him deeper instead, lips sealed tight around him, her hand twisting at the base the way that made his breathing stutter.
His whole body locked up. His fingers gripped her hair hard enough to sting. "Fuck—Rachel—I'm—"
He came with a groan that sounded like it was torn from somewhere deep in his chest. She felt him pulse against her tongue, hot and bitter-salt, and she swallowed, working him through it until his body went slack and boneless beneath her.
When she finally pulled back, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crawled up his body.
Ghost looked destroyed. His chest was heaving, his skin flushed, one arm flung across the mattress like he didn't have the strength to move it. His eyes were dark and unfocused when they finally found hers.
For a moment he just stared at her, then his hand shot out, wrapping around her waist and hauling her up his body in one smooth motion. She laughed, surprised, as she straddled his hips.
He sat up, bringing them face to face. One arm banded around her back, holding her against him. His other hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. He was looking at her like he was trying to memorize her face.
"You really don't like being told what to do, do you?" His voice was still rough, scraped raw.
Rachel smiled, feeling bold and powerful and desired. "Not even a little."
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
The sound shattered the moment. Ghost's gaze flicked toward it, his expression shifting from dazed to alert in an instant. He reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.
Team Chat
Torch: Incoming in fifteen.
Ghost ran his free hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. "Shit. The guys'll be here in fifteen minutes."
Rachel felt a flutter of panic, they were both naked, she could still taste him, the bed was a mess, but she couldn't help grinning. "Guess we should get cleaned up then."
His eyes darkened. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into muscle, then he stood, lifting her with him in one fluid motion.
Rachel gasped, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist, arms locking around his shoulders. "Logan—"
"Shower. Now."
She was acutely aware of every point of contact, her breasts pressed against his chest, his hands under her thighs, the hard length of him already starting to recover against her stomach.
"You're insatiable," she said, but she was grinning.
He carried her to the bathroom, his stride purposeful. "You have no idea."
He didn't set her down until they reached the shower. The bathroom was all clean lines and dark tile, a massive rainfall showerhead centered over a glass-walled stall that could easily fit four people.
He lowered her slowly, her body sliding down his chest, every inch of contact sending sparks across her skin. Her feet hit the cool tile and she shivered.
They stood there for a moment, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to see the way his pupils were blown wide.
Ghost stepped past her and twisted the shower knob. Water surged to life with a hiss, pounding down from above. Within seconds, steam began to fill the space, making the air thick and warm.
Rachel moved first, stepping under the spray.
The water was almost too hot, pounding against her shoulders and back, running down her body in rivulets.
She tipped her head back, letting it soak her hair, and when she opened her eyes, Ghost was watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
He stepped in behind her.
The second he did, his hands were on her waist, spinning her around and backing her into the tile wall. The ceramic was shockingly cold against her back, making her gasp, then his mouth was on hers and she forgot about everything else.
He kissed her like he was starving for it. Deep and demanding, his tongue sweeping against hers, one hand cupping her face while the other pinned her hip to the wall. Water pounded down on them, running between their bodies, making everything slick and hot.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard. He kissed along her jaw, down her throat, his tongue tracing the path of water over her skin.
"You drive me crazy," he said against her neck, his voice vibrating through her. "Do you know that?"
His hand slid down her body, over her breast, squeezing once, then lower across her stomach, lower still until his fingers found the apex of her thighs.
Rachel's breath hitched. She let her legs fall open, giving him access, and felt him smile against her throat.
He dragged his fingers through her folds, slowly, teasingly, until her hips lifted seeking more pressure.
"Is this what you need, baby?" His voice was low and dark, full of promise.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Sliding one finger inside her, then another, curling them deep and hitting a spot that made her knees buckle. His thumb found her clit, circling with just enough pressure to make her gasp and grab his shoulders for support.
"Logan—"
His free hand braced against the tile beside her head, caging her in. His fingers worked inside her, building a rhythm that had her panting, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit with every thrust of his hand.
Just when she thought she might come apart completely, his hands moved to her thighs.
He gripped beneath her legs and lifted, hooking them around his waist in one smooth motion. She locked her arms around his shoulders, suddenly aware of how much bigger he was, how easily he could maneuver her.
"Hold on to me," he said, voice low.
She barely managed a nod before she felt him line himself up, he filled her in one deep stroke.
Rachel cried out, the sound echoing off the tile. The stretch was immediate and intense, her body struggling to adjust to him from this angle. He was so deep like this, hitting places she didn't even know existed.
"Fuck," Ghost groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. Water streamed down between them. "You feel—God, you feel perfect."
He withdrew and drove deeper this time, and she whimpered against his neck. The angle was almost too much, the fullness overwhelming.
"Too much?" he asked, stilling.
"No. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He didn't. He set a rhythm, slow and deep at first, each stroke deliberate, letting her feel every inch of him. But she felt the restraint in his body, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers dug into her thighs.
"Harder," she breathed against his ear.
Something in him snapped. His grip on her tightened and he began to move faster, harder, the sound of wet skin slapping together echoing through the shower.
Every time he drove into her, she hit the tile, the cold ceramic contrasting sharply with the heat of him inside her, the hot water pounding down on them both.
"Say my name," he demanded, his mouth against her ear.
Her head fell back against the tile. "Logan," she gasped, her whole body starting to tighten around him.
"Again."
"Logan—" His name broke on a moan as he changed the angle slightly and hit something inside her that made electricity shoot up her spine.
"That's it, baby. That's my girl."
He lowered his head to her throat and bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a sharp spike of pleasure-pain straight through her.
That was all it took. Her orgasm hit like a wave, sudden and overwhelming, her muscles clenching tight around him as her body locked up.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel as it rolled through her in pulsing waves.
"Fuck—Rachel—" His rhythm faltered, became erratic, then he slammed into her one final time and she felt him pulse inside her, his whole body shuddering as he came. His groan was raw and broken, muffled against her shoulder.
They stayed there, pinned between the tile and him, both of them trembling and gasping for air. The water continued to pound down, now starting to cool. Rachel's legs felt like jelly. If he let go, she'd probably collapse.
Ghost pulled back just enough to look at her, still breathing hard. His eyes were soft, unguarded in a way she'd never seen before. Vulnerable.
"We're officially late," he said.
Rachel laughed, breathless and dizzy. "Worth it."
A slow smile spread across his face, transforming him. He looked younger when he smiled like that. Happier. "You're damn right."
He lowered her carefully, making sure her legs would hold her before letting go completely, then reached for the body wash, and they actually cleaned up this time, quickly, efficiently, though his hands lingered on her more than strictly necessary.
When they stepped out, Rachel caught sight of their reflections in the fogged mirror. Her lips were swollen from kissing, her hair a wet mess, her skin flushed pink. She looked thoroughly ravaged.
She looked happy.
Ghost handed her a towel and grabbed one for himself. They dried off quickly, both of them hyperaware that his team would be arriving any minute.
As Rachel wrapped the towel around herself, she caught him watching her in the mirror. Their eyes met, and something passed between them. Something warm and significant that neither of them had words for yet.
"Come on," he said, his voice gentle now. "Let's get dressed before they break down the door."