Page 49 of Embattled Return

John leaned in for a kiss. “I think you’re right. But then, you’re always right, recently.”

Shannon snorted. “Not. Just a little lucky.”

* * *

Logan woke feeling amazingly rested.He was warm. Incredibly warm. It was so nice. Then he realized there was a heavy weight against his right side. That was where the heat emanated from.

Marigold. Some of her hair was draped across his arm, and it smelled luscious. She smelled luscious. Scenes from the night before rolled through his mind and his body responded, hardening quickly. His dick knew that relief was mere inches away.

Marigold must have been half awake as well, because she turned her head up to blink at him in the morning light, smiling. Logan was struck by the innocence of her look. She had makeup smudged beneath her bright eyes and morning breath, but it didn’t matter, because that look was turned inhisdirection. And there was something there, something that he didn’t dare name in case it drifted away.

At some point in the past few days, something had shifted within him, and he had a feeling this woman was primarily responsible. The feeling of oppression that he carried on his shoulders every day seemed to be lighter. Hell, maybe it was just a mental shift in his own mind.

“Back in a minute. I have to pee,” she grinned.

Logan watched her go, the cheeks of her ass peeking from beneath the hem of her T-shirt. The sight did not help his erection. He debated whether or not to get out of bed, but he really didn’t want to. The mattress was so comfortable beneath his sore bones.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom and he heard water running in the sink. Then Marigold returned, her hair brushed, makeup wiped away. “Good, I’m glad you didn’t move. It’s a little chilly out here,” she laughed, sliding back into the sheets, then tight against him. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” he admitted. “Better than I have since I got here.”

And that was the truth. Normally, he got a few hours, then was up the rest of the night, pacing and aching. Dreams woke him regularly. He didn’t remember anything from last night, though.

“Good,” she breathed, stretching her arm across his chest.

That put her breast in direct contact with him, and he could feel her nipple. Or maybe he just imagined it. What would she do if he rolled on his side and kissed her?

He had a feeling he knew. So, he did it.

Marigold’s eyes widened as he loomed over her, but she grinned. She’d brushed her teeth while she’d been in the bathroom so he didn’t think this was as spontaneous as he’d like to believe. “Thank you for last night,” he murmured.

“And this morning?” she grinned hopefully, brows raised, eyes guileless.

Logan laughed, shifting his hips toward her as he leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. “If you don’t mind some virgin-like fumbling, you might be able to thank me for this morning.”

She made a face at him. “There was no fumbling last night.”

“No, but grabbing your ass and fucking you are completely different things.”

Her irises darkened, and she grinned. “As long as we’re both happy at the end, I don’t care how we get there.”

Yeah, he was kind of the same.

Deepening the kiss, wishing he’d had his own toothbrush, he brushed his fingers over her body, thrilled to have access. Her nipples were peaked beneath the soft cotton of the tee, and he circled one several times, then held her entire breast in his hand.

Marigold’s eyes fluttered and she sighed. Logan tugged the hem of the shirt up, baring her breasts for him to see. Her nipples were flushed a dark pink with arousal, and he leaned down to press a kiss to each one. Aware that he needed to shave, he lightly brushed his cheeks against the smooth skin of her belly.

Marigold reached up and cupped his face, scraping her thumbs over the dark bristles of his beard on the left side. The right side was bare of hair, but patchy down around his chin. He could feel her touch in some spots, but not really in others. “This must be hard to shave.”

“It is. And it itches beneath the skin sometimes, like a hair is trying to come through.”

She danced her fingers up the burns on the right side of his face, then stroked her thumb over his eyebrow. His eyelashes were thick and dark, and he’d been teased more than once about wearing makeup. “You know women would kill for these lashes, right?” she murmured.

His mouth quirked. “I’ve been told that many times. It’s the only decent thing my father gave me, his eyes and lashes.”

Marigold let her fingers drift down his cheek and neck to the collar of his t-shirt. “You might as well get rid of this.”

Moving a little vertical, he whipped it over his head, tossing it away. Marigold stared, but it didn’t strike him as a disgusted stare. Her fingers danced down his body, and over his abs. Some of the places she brushed he could feel, others he could not. When she reached his waistband, she tucked her fingers beneath the elastic, just barely brushing his cock, and looked up at him.