Reaching for The Moon by ThePekingNoodle

AN: Dear Readers, I'm not really much for author's notes (No! You say in shock) but at this point in my story (saga? opus? Actually I'm not sure what this has turned into, to be honest.) I feel it behooves me to make some observations. Mainly one observation. My readers appear to be completely and totally… sex crazed. Yikes.

Here I am, trying to tell a sweet and moving, touching and dramatic, story of true love and soul mates, and all you seem to care about is when they are going to get it on again. I'm just shocked at all of you. I mean what's a writer to do. Here I have these two characters struggling desperately to make their way through the tangle of complications to find their true and pure love, and over here I have you guys clamoring for them to just cut the nonsense and get down to it

Am I to understand that all you want is the sex? What about the chaste and true romance. The purity of a Sir Lancelot… Huh? What China Doll? Cut it out you say? Hmph. China Doll says I'm starting up on one of my literary tangents again. She says if I don't shut up and just write this damn thing already she's going to hack into my pc and steal all of my Logan pictures. How dare she.

Alright, alright already. Forget the chapter I had all planned for you about the beauty and poetic grace of romance. Forget the wonderful allusions and imagery I was going to throw in there. Forget my lyrical rhapsodizing about flowers and clouds and butterflies. You guys want the heat. Just don't come crying to me later and ask for the poetry…PN

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Chapter Forty-Five: Coffee, tea and me

In which our heroine finds she has quite an appetite…

Dinner and its aftermath was forever a blur to Max. From the moment she saw Logan in his black tuxedo she was lost. Rational thought went out the window. Any appetite for dinner went with it. Logan was her entrée of choice; entrée and appetizer and dessert all in one. In any order. She didn't care.

She might have had her way with him then and there, and the two might never have made it out of their room and down to the dining room had it not been for one thing. Or one person. Kendra.

Logan had just come out of the bathroom and was slipping on his tuxedo jacket, while Max sat on her hands on the bed in a desperate attempt to keep from going to him and ripping the clothes off of his back. She thought she was going to succeed until he turned to her and asked, "Max would you mind coming over and fixing this tie? I can't seem to get it straight."

Max moaned softly even as her rebellious feet hit the floor and she stalked towards Logan, who stood with his back to her as he looked into the mirror and tried to fix his bow tie. As she came closer she picked up his smell. That wonderful combination of soap and cologne and male musk. She began to purr deep in her throat. As she reached him, he turned to face her. He dropped his hands. "I'm hopeless at this. Think you can do anything with it?"

Their eyes met and Logan noticed that Max's pupils seemed to be a bit dilated. He also noted that she seemed to be radiating something. What he wasn't sure. He felt a rush of warmth at the expression in her eyes. He glanced down at her cleavage and noticed that her skin seemed to be covered in a very faint sweat. Chill boy. Remember this weekend is about romance. You're going to show her how much you respect her. Not what a playa you are. She already knows that.

Max in the meantime was reaching for his tie, intending to show Logan just exactly what she could do with it, and with his shirt and with his pants and…

Before she could touch him there was a knocking on the door. "Logan? Max? Can I come in?" The door flew open and Kendra was across the room hugging first Logan, and then Max. It was a good thing she had her back to Max when she hugged Logan, or she would have been shocked by the fierce look in Max's eyes at the sight.

"Hey, Ken. I was wondering when you'd get here."

Kendra made a face. "Never if I had my way. You guys ready for dinner? I figured Max could use some moral support with Mom."

"What about me?" Logan gave her a mock frown.

"You can take care of yourself." Kendra linked her arm with Max and pulled her out of the room, leaving Logan to follow. Max sighed in relief as sanity briefly returned. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all.

It was worse.

Max had been thinking only about Logan. Unfortunately her hormones weren't quite so selective. Logan was seated on one side of her, but seated on the other side was a young sprig of Seattle society, name of Arnold. Arnold possessed the one and only thing necessary to garner Max's attention that night. He was male.

Once she was seated, Max found her senses going into overload. Logan was on one side of her, Arnold on the other, and across the table was a Hollywood handsome hunk who Kendra whispered was a local game show host. Max wanted to sink into the floor. Actually she wanted to drape herself over each and every one of said males, but that was clearly not the thing to do at a formal dinner.

She never did know what exactly she ate. She did know that Logan gave her a strange look when her hand somehow wandered onto his lap and made its way to his zipper.

He looked down in surprise as he whispered to her, "Max?"

"Oh," she squeaked as she pulled her hand back and blushed slightly. At the same time her left foot had somehow become entangled with Arnold's. It seemed to be trying to make its way up his leg. Arnold choked on his soup and Max quickly pulled her foot back under her own chair. Her other one was happily playing with Logan's and at least he didn't seem to mind. Other than the fact that he kept sending her strange looks.

Max made an effort and drained her entire glass of ice water in one gulp. She really wanted to dump it over her head, but didn't think that Logan's Aunt and Uncle would appreciate that too much.

As a matter of fact Logan's Aunt Margo didn't seem to be too pleased with her in general. She shot Max glares throughout the dinner. Just because her two partners seemed to be completely absorbed in her, to the point of rudeness to the ladies seated on their other sides. What was a girl to do? Male cats, um, men knew which female was the one. Could she help it? Max shrugged to herself.

Finally, dinner was over and they all rose from the table. Arnold looked at Max adoringly. Having such a beauty worrying so much over whether he was enjoying his food, even to the point of taking his fork and trying to feed him, was certainly unique in his experience. Her soft touches on his arm had made him feel strong and manly. Certainly not a feeling he had encountered often in his life, being as how he was only 5'5" and most girls seemed to think he was something of a dork. The only fly in the ointment had been the glares he had been receiving with increasing frequency from Max's husband. But then again, that was also a novel and wonderful experience for Arnold. No other male had ever bothered to regard him as any kind of a threat ever before. And he had the lovely Max to thank for it. In short, he left the table completely and utterly besotted with Max.

Poor Arnold had no chance to pursue his infatuation. As soon as they arose, Logan gripped Max by the arm, none too gently, and practically dragged her to the French doors that opened on to the terrace. "Come with me for some fresh air, sweetheart," he said through clenched teeth even as he favored her with a devastating smile.

Max didn't care about his tone. All she cared about was his hand on her arm. "I'd love to come with you, Logan," she purred. "Now?"

Logan just continued walking and she followed happily along.

When they reached the terrace he turned her to face him. "What the hell was that performance at dinner about?" he began. And stopped. His arms were full of Max. She was pressed up against him raining kisses on his face. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Despite his best intentions, Logan felt himself rising to the occasion. He dropped his head and found her mouth with his. This time he knew he heard her purring, and he felt the vibration running through her body as they frantically kissed.

When they broke the kiss Max began to gently nip at his neck. "Max." She continued her nipping and her hands had somehow found their way under his shirt. "Max."

"Shut up, Logan." She stopped long enough to glare at him for interrupting her task.

"Max, what has gotten into you? You aren't acting like yourself at all." Logan desperately tried to hold onto some semblance of sanity. The scent and feel and taste of Max was making it next to impossible.

"I'm acting exactly like myself." She declared glaring at him.

Logan made a heroic effort and held her at arms length. "No, you aren't. Is this some kind of aftermath of your seizures?"

"No."

He waited for more of an answer but none was forthcoming. "Do you want to go to bed?"

Max smiled happily at him. "Can we do that? What will your aunt and uncle think if we leave so early?"

"I didn't mean that, Max. I meant you. I meant maybe you should go rest until you feel more yourself." Logan struggled to explain himself even as Max once more set to work on his neck. "Dammit, Max, stop that."

She looked up at him slyly, "But I don't want to. You taste good."

Logan realized that reasoning with Max wasn't going to work. He had two choices. He could give in to her and hate himself for it in the morning, or he could resort to trickery and deceit to get her safely tucked away for the night. His conscience and his hormones fought an intense battle as Max continued her foray down his chest. Somehow she'd gotten his tie undone as well as a few buttons of his shirt. ( Had she used her teeth? Her hands were safely captured in his.) Now she was starting to lick her way down his chest, sending jolts of fire through him.

The sound of the doors opening behind them jolted Logan into action. Without turning around and exposing his state of dress (or undress rather) he quickly pulled Max down the steps into the garden. He hurried her around the house to a side door. Slipping inside he headed to the back stairs.

"Are we going to bed now, Logan?" Max asked.

"Mmmm." He replied noncommittally. She seemed happy with that answer and followed docilely along beside him. No one was around to see them as they made their way down the hallway to their room, stopping frequently for Max to push Logan against the wall and satisfy her need to taste his mouth. It was easier to give in than to fight her, so Logan allowed her to have her way, just making sure they kept moving in the right direction.

Finally they reached their room. Logan sighed in relief as he opened the door and the two of them practically fell into the room. He closed the door behind them and turned to face Max, his mind made up as to his course of action. The moment of truth was here.

End of Chapter Forty-Five…TBC…

AN: I can hear the screaming from here. But gentle readers I have a quandary. "What's the problem?" I hear you saying. "They're alone, they have a bed, they both want to. Get on with it already." But dear reader, please remember that Logan is determined to treat Max as a goddess on a pedestal; as his beloved. Shall I traumatize him by destroying his manly willpower and strength? Will he ever forgive himself if he gives in to Max and then finds out the real reason for her behavior later? And what of Max? Will she hate herself afterwards? Decisions, decisions…the lot of a writer is not a happy one. I must go off and sleep on this one. A misstep here could be fatal. Until next time…PN