Disclaimers: Please see Chapter 1.
A/N: The Challenge responses continue...
Rated ASW for Admitted, Shameless Wallowing... (Oh, what the heck. Is it pandering if it's self-directed?)
Interesting statistic: Last weekend, one chapter was posted here, and one in the less-nekkid CJ. So far, nekkidity is the chapter with a substantial lead in both reviews and hits. I think I see the proclivities of this crowd...
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Winter's Chill
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XV.
Logan slowly resurfaced from his sated, restorative sleep, a sense of well-being and comfort blanketing him before he even remembered how or why. Lying on his stomach, the soft, warm form in his arms below him yielding gently to his embrace, he drew a deep, contented breath and nuzzled his cheek against the velvety smoothness under his stubble. "Max..." he murmured, happily .. and tenderly, drew even closer to the form in his arms...
...to find himself in a loving embrace with his pillow...
His eyes flew open, and in desperate denial, he looked across the rumpled bedclothes ... along the empty bed ... around the silent room.
Nothing.
No sign of Max; no sign she'd ever been there. The light of early morning streamed through the partially opened blinds, and the room was still and empty...
He fell back onto the pillow, devastated. Not again... damn it, not again! Wasn't it bad enough that he'd been shot, that he'd been cut in half, left unable to compete for her, unable to offer her more than food and chess? Why did his too-creative mind have to taunt him with cruel fantasies of Max wanting him... Max squirming with desire for him and covering him with kisses... Max looking at him with more love in her eyes than he'd ever seen in a woman's eyes, for any man...
Tears burned against his eyelids and throat.
He couldn't take it any more.
He couldn't bear one more minute of having her near, having to pretend he didn't crave her. Having her there during the day almost guaranteed she would haunt his dreams at night. And this time... they had been stronger than ever; the dreams had gotten increasingly insistent and this time he'd actually felt the warmth of her skin, smelled her shampoo... He stifled a gasped sob of frustration, wondering if Sam would finally relent and give him the sleeping pills that would allow dreamless sleep ... wondering if he ought to stop feeding her and just write her off the Informant Net, no matter the cost to the Cause... or to him ... wondering if there were any way he could even see her again without losing his mind... daring to wonder about the other "sleep" that sleeping pills could afford...
With supreme effort, he pushed himself up, chest hovering over the lonely pillows, the knot in his stomach familiar but this morning, more painful and bitter than ever before. Leaning on his straightened arms, head hanging in grief, he wasn't sure if he could even find the energy to get out of bed one more day... "Max..." he whispered, his heart breaking... and he vowed that he would find a way to sever their ties, maybe even find a way to convince her to leave Seattle, for her own safety... for the work that lay ahead, needing him... for his sanity...
...and so even when the door to his bedroom was opening, he missed its movement... and didn't see the face peeking in...
XVI.
"Oh, no, no, no..." A very feminine voice, buoyant and animated, full of fun and missed surprise and flirtation sounded from the doorway, rueful and laughing, all at once interrupting his dark thoughts. "Logan," she bubbled, "Logan; I'm sorry..." Max scurried on silent feet across the room in a hunched, comic creep to the bed, to his side, and crouched low to peer up at him, a twinkling, apologetic grin on her face. "I was going to get back before you woke up so you'd never know I was gone."
In stunned surprise, he stared dumbly at the beaming face of Max as she knelt by his bed. He opened his mouth once, closed it. For once... for once... the dreams had been ... real? He pivoted to lean on one arm, sitting back on one hip, staring at her, afraid to speak and break the spell...
"Logan; what?" She giggled, rather unlike the Max of twenty four hours earlier. "You're not still frozen, are you?"
Dazed, he shook his head no, slowly allowing trust to take hold, in the light of day, relief and elation flooding his being. "I'm fine," he gasped, his surprise still clear.
"Then just close your eyes and pretend you're still asleep," she directed, wriggling out of her leather jacket and diving under the comforter and onto the blankets beside him in one smooth motion. "As if I never left..." she cooed, nestling into his side and peeking up at him with sparkling, hopeful eyes.
He gulped.
She smelled like fresh, chilly air and the cleanness of newly fallen rain, and her skin glowed with a dewy, rosy light. Tentatively, he lowered himself down slowly, onto his elbow, raised his fingers to her cheek and felt the moist cold of outdoors still clinging to her, still recent. Moving on to trace back a curling, dampened lock of her hair, he tried, "you went out..." He almost winced at how dull-witted he sounded...
Seeming not to notice, she nodded, admitting, "I wanted to find us some strawberries..." Slowly starting to believe which was the dream and which, reality, a smile started to lift across his face – coupled with a rueful chuckle. Max saw the reaction and complained "not you, too..."
He sensed a story, and, smile broadening, he shrugged, encouraging her words, still not too trusting of his own voice. "...too?"
"I went to the market and found Mickey and Carlo setting up, and I asked them if anyone there would have strawberries. They both laughed and told me to come ask you about being 'in season...'"
His eyes twinkled as they swallowed her whole, drunk in his feelings for her, letting his hand cup her cheek, his palm warm now against her chilly skin. "I'm sorry, Max..." he managed, "but it just wouldn't have been as romantic to use winter storage crops like potatoes or onions in my fantasy..."
She pouted a little, prettily, and nudged him, "Mickey came up with something better than that..."
His smile grew at her use of such patented feminine flirtation, and played along. "What?" he tried.
"Apples..." she drew the word out, making them sound like an aphrodisiac.
"Apples," he smiled, echoing.
"I got some," she purred. "But to be really good... maybe you'll need to cook them..."
The light he saw in her eyes for him melted his heart, and he smiled a little wider. "I could do that..." he agreed. He probably could have flown for her at that moment, if she'd asked.
"You could?" Again, the little girl sounded in her woman's voice, and Logan wondered if he'd ever known a sweeter moment.
He nodded. "Not really finger food..." he warned.
"Could be." She teased. "Logan..." her tone softened into one more serious. "...you're sure you're feeling alright?" He could see then that she hadn't missed the hell he'd been putting himself though when she'd appeared, and her worry for him now played across her eyes as she looked into his, seeking deeper assurances than his automatic words. In response he leaned down and sweetly, softly, nibbled her lower lip, then kissed her fully, hungrily, his mouth insistent... she responded in kind – and relaxed into believing him... After only another few moments, she broke the kiss and whispered "Logan, we're still dressed..."
"I don't mind," he hummed, lips finding hers again immediately. "I know how to fix that..."
Her lips broadened against his as they widened into a smile, and she felt his do the same. Pushing away only a few inches to look at the astounding face she craved, she propositioned him, pointing across the room with a tip of her chin, "then you go do whatever you need to do, 'cos once you're back here under the covers, you're not leaving again 'til dark. I have something to take care of, myself..."
His eyes flickered with only a shade of his recent uncertainty. "You're leaving again?"
"Only the other room," she assured him. "Just a couple minutes..." With her words, and brushing his lips once more with a longing kiss, she lifted herself gracefully up and away from him, rocking back on her knees... Shifting easily to slide over to the bed's edge and the floor, she turned once to give him a sultry look, and with a following grin of pure, childish pleasure, Max left his bedroom again and left Logan's world spinning wildly off its axis...
XVII.
Once jarred from the hypnotic spell she'd woven in the few short minutes she'd been back, Logan scrambled to get in and out of the bathroom in record time, finishing by brushing his teeth and swilling mouthwash, wondering if trying to fit in a shower was lunatic, wondering if hunting for aftershave was as crazy as it would be futile. Nervousness was trying its best to get the better of him, but his hunger for Max and her invitation to his bed were giving even his insecurities a run for their money.
At least he'd grabbed clean boxers, and he dared prepare for his return to bed with only them covering his long, lanky frame. Certain that she'd have beaten him back to bed by now, he opened the bathroom door cautiously, another sudden bout of self-consciousness crossing his thoughts... and what he saw let him forget everything else, for the moment...
She'd lit candles. Max had shut the blinds nearly all the way, dimming the room, and she'd brought in extra candles, so their tiny, bright lights sparkled across the room. As he opened the door, she turned from the last one she had placed on the dresser, across from the bed, and what he saw took his breath away...
Max... his Max, his angel, stood facing him as a diaphanous ivory gown floated around her, its low neckline clinging to her olive skin and filled with her soft, rounded form... lace and ribbon were involved; sheer, silky fabric fluttered across her thighs... "Max..." he gulped yet again, vaguely wondering if she could ever cease to surprise him.
At his stunned response, Max took a couple tentative steps closer, clearly self-conscious herself now, too. "Is it...?" She began, and started over. "Is this what you'd like?"
He slowly came over to meet her, reaching a hand to take hers. "You're breathtaking..." he whispered. "But you're 'what I like'... all of you, whatever you're wearing ... whatever you're not..."
The smile she saw in return dazzled as she relaxed back into being herself, back into wanting him and trusting him to want her. "Original Cindy said I needed to do this," she smiled winsomely. "She said I had to have it, for the first time..."
"Cindy said that...?" he asked, unsure. "When? Last night?"
"No," she smiled, again self-consciously. "About six weeks ago. She just brought it home one day; said she saw this coming, she was getting tired of waiting ... and said I'd better have something ready for the Big Night..."
"I love Original Cindy," he breathed, then sobered, looking long into the deep, dark eyes before him. "I love you. Max... I love you..." He let his fingers intertwine with hers even closer, and pulled her near, daring to pull her into his lap and his arms, his waiting mouth. "I love you. I think I always have..."
She shivered a little, burrowing into his strong arms. "Logan..." she whispered, her voice catching.
"Shhh..." he soothed, hearing the emotion, wanting to protect her and to let her know that whatever still haunted her, it would all be okay. "You know you don't need to say anything..."
"But I do..." she urged, hearing that he'd misunderstood. She drew a deep breath, and admitted, "I used to be so afraid that ... I'd never feel... that I couldn't; that they'd written it out of me... I never understood all the romances Kendra or Cindy found, how they felt so much, loved so much ... and all they felt, when they were losing someone..." She paused, then breathed her sweet confession in his ear. "And then I met you..." As Max again lifted her face to him, Logan looked into the ageless, intelligent eyes that at the moment he held her, smoldered just for him. "Before, I wondered if I could love someone ... or if I'd know it, when it happened..." her eyes actually filled, in emotion. "You answered all my questions, Logan; I can ... and I do... I love you and have loved you from the start, from that first, insane moment where you held a gun on me and were delighted when you found out that I'd broken in just to steal from you."
His look of wonder dissolved into a slow smile and a laugh, for her words. "How could you have loved me then?" he challenged, wanting to believe it too...
"I loved you because you were a lunatic ... I loved you because of that smile ... I loved you because you were a rich guy dressed like a bum, grinning like a fool 'cos I was there to rob you. I loved you because of your crazy hair. I loved you because of that smile..." She grew braver with every word, braver with his smile for her now, and went on, "and the really whack thing was... then I got to know you. And even the smile and the hair could have disappeared because even more than all those things... I knew I loved the man underneath..." She looked at him, unblinking, her eyes filled with passion and hunger, for him. "I love you, Logan... nothing's ever scared me more... and nothing has ever made me feel so strong. We've got a hell of a lot going against us – people trying to kill you ... people trying to kill me ... your stupid stubborn streak..."
He actually laughed at that, the sound rich and warm...
"...but none of that matters... not now. Not when we love each other..."
We love each other, two hearts marveled... ...and this time, it isn't a dream...
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