ATTRACTION
He could hear her heartbeat become steady, her body relaxing in his arms as she drifted off. He looked down at her, her beauty still stunning him, just as it had on that first night.
And now he held her in his arms. Her eyes were tightly closed as she rested, completely trusting him to watch over her. He wanted to hold her like this forever, to never have to let go, though he knew he would have to.
Unless he could think of a way to make her want to stay…
He felt his lips curl, but the smile quickly disappeared. She would never be attracted to him, not when she could have any man that she wanted.
But what if…
What if he could make her skin tingle, make her desperate for his touch? What if he could make her beg for it? Would it be wrong?
Yes, he told himself, trying to push the idea from his mind, though he wanted so desperately to pursue it. He pushed thoughts of motorbikes and the cigar he would enjoy when he reached Gambit's apartment.
No matter how attracted he was to her, he still felt as though he were holding dynamite in his arms. He had to remember that even the most beautiful things in this world could be deadly, and he had a feeling that she was one of the deadliest of them all. What was it that Manipuler had called her? Ghost?
He shook his head, wondering if he should get his hearing checked.
Logan reached the apartment and placed her on his bed. He pulled off her shoes, the platform boots so high that he wondered how she could walk in them, let alone run. He frowned at her heavy jacket, pulling it from her body, trying and failing to avert his eyes. Beneath the leather, she was wearing only a short black top and tight, perfectly fitted leather pants that were buckled multiple times at the sides, revealing glimpses of her perfect skin all the way to her hips. He bit his bottom lip, pulling the covers high before he forced himself to step back, to leave the room and keep his thoughts controlled.
He wondered what it would be like to slowly unclasp those buckles, to pull her clothes from her body and expose her porcelain skin…
He shook his head, moving to the liquor cabinet. He poured a glass of the first thing that his hands grasped, taking a swig of whiskey. For a while he sat contemplating the glass, staring blankly out the window, wondering how he was going to catch Manipuler. After talking to Gambit for a while, asking him to get information on the Frenchman but leaving out the part about having a beautiful woman resting in his bed, he searched for a cigar. He stepped out and onto the balcony to light it, his claws making short work of the ends. He took a pull, inhaling deeply, but the usual calming effect that cigars had was absent.
He cursed. Stop it, he thought, gripping the handrail as he looked out at the city. This is ridiculous. She's only here to rest. As soon as she wakes up, she'll make a run for it.
But she had seemed so at ease in his arms as he carried her from the park. Was it really that difficult to believe that she would feel at ease with him when the pain that Manipuler had inflicted on her had passed? It seemed possible, but he feared getting his hopes up, even though he wanted to feel something.
He shed his jacket, dropping it onto a chair as he walked back into the apartment. He stopped in the doorway to his bedroom, looking over her resting form, knowing that she would be out for a while longer. He figured he could have a shower while she slept. He was covered in dirt from rolling across the grass and hitting the tree, and wanted to make sure that there was no blood on him after the branch had stabbed his leg. Although he healed quickly, the blood didn't wash its self away.
Logan pulled his shirt off as he walked to the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom, dropping it into the wash basket before he kicked off his shoes and jeans. He turned the taps, the hot water quickly filling the room with steam as he stepped under the flow.
He stretched his arms over his head, pushing his hair from his eyes as he washed bark from the dark strands He quickly scrubbed his body, washing the blood from his thigh to find smooth skin beneath the thick red.
As he scrubbed higher, he wondered if he should have closed the door, but habit had made him forget. He glanced to the side, looking through the bathroom door at the bed, checking that she still slept soundly. She was out, but the covers slipped down her body as she rolled over, her back facing him.
He bit his bottom lip, his eyes instantly locking onto her creamy skin. The back of her short shirt was made of only a thin mesh, barely visible on her skin. Although his thoughts instantly wondered how soft her skin would be, his eyes were drawn to the massive tattoo that covered most of her back. The tattoo was of a raven, its eyes staring straight into his as if it knew he was watching. Its wings spanned her shoulder blades, the black roses that it carried in its talons hung down her back, some falling from its grasp.
He'd have to ask her what it meant when she woke up.
He guiltily averted his gaze for a moment as she rolled onto her back, her sleep seeming restless. Her fingernails dug into the covers, her lips parted as her back arched. What was she dreaming of that caused her such unrest? Was it a nightmare? Or was it…
She moaned, her legs shifting beneath the covers, pulling them lower down to reveal her legs. He watched as she moved, shivering as he wondering what it would be like to have those slender limbs wrapped around his waist, to feel her fingernails digging into his skin as she raked them down his back.
'Shit,' he muttered, his shaft as hard as iron from his musings. She moaned again, and his cock twitched, the sound filling his ears as though she were right beside him.
He had to make a decision. He could either try to ignore his arousal, or he could take his release. He hadn't had a woman in months, had been denying himself ever since he saw her. He tried to tell himself that every time he'd been out, no girl had caught his eyes, but he knew that really he'd just been craving something unattainable.
But now she was lying in his bed, sleeping, dreaming of something that was setting her blood on fire in a far different way to Manipuler.
He had to take his release, the pressure in his cock becoming too much to bear. But there was no way to know when she would wake up. He could try to close the bathroom door but the hinges that he'd been neglecting to oil would squeal. She would wake up and see everything.
Or he could leave the door open and just hope that she would remain asleep and within her dream while he – quietly – took care of himself.
He took his shaft tightly in hand, stroking himself slowly, allowing his eyes to follow the line of her body, watching as she arched again, her nipples hard against the black shirt. He imagined what her breasts would feel like in his hands, how she would taste as he circled his tongue around those tight buds. Would she moan loudly when he added a little suction? Would she beg for more?
Would she like him to use his teeth?
He just stifled a moan as he rested his forearm against the wall of the shower, just below the arm of the shower head. The hot water cascading over him felt like a caress. He stroked faster, closing his eyes as he leant his forehead against the tiles below his arm, his knees shaking slightly at the quickened pace of his hand.
He'd never needed release more.
