Marie heard the door to her room open. "Ugh. Go away. I have the plague."

Logan strode in with a tray and kicked the door shut behind him. "So? Ain't gonna hurt me none."

He set the tray down beside the bed and helped her sit. She had the flu and looked miserable. "Here, darlin'. Drink this."

Marie sniffed at it feebly. "What is it?"

"Dunno. Some shit Hank whipped up for ya. Smells like lemons." And medicine. "He said it would help." She'd been down four days and it looked like it had been pretty rough.

"If I drink it would you go away and just let me die in peace?"

He chuckled. "I might."

It took a few minutes for her to drink down the steaming mug. The heat helped open up her head and the lemon soothed her throat. Whatever was in it, she felt all warm and drifty and pleasantly detached from her body.

"I have to pee," she finally said. "And I want a bath." She was too unsteady to stand in the shower. "And it really sucks that I missed going out on New Year's with Jubes. We were gonna do Times Square. I hate being sick." She felt awful and she could smell herself. She couldn't imagine how bad it must be for Logan. "I stink." She really wanted a bath but was pretty sure she was too shaky to make it there under her own steam. All she'd been able to manage for two days was crawling to the bathroom to pee.

"Nah. It ain't that bad." She smelled unwell, but she also smelled like herself, just more strongly. It wasn't wholly unpleasant. "You want me to get someone to help ya?"

"No. I'll manage. Everyone's afraid of my skin. The only person who could do it is Hank and I really don't want him seeing my, uh, naked parts."

"He's a doctor." Logan was actually pretty proud for getting that out of his mouth because what had gone through his head was 'Damn straight. You're mine and nobody sees you naked but me.' But it wasn't the time or the place, and maybe it never would be, so he just gave her a soft smile. "There's me."

"Ah, no."

"It's nothin', kid."

"It's a big thing."

As it turned out, they were both right. With a minimum of fuss and blushing and a borrowed pair of gloves, Logan had her in and out of the bath, dressed in new pajamas, and tucked back into a freshly made bed in under half an hour. The bath had roused her slightly, but the medicine had kicked in and she was a little loopy.

"Better now, darlin'?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm gonna take off then." He needed to get in the wind. Taking care of her intimately felt good, felt right, but it wasn't without repercussions. He was wound too tight.

He'd washed her, bathed her, and dressed her, pushing her arms into her clothes like a child. He didn't leer at her, but he's a man. He looked. Full breasts. Raspberry nipples. Dark curls between her legs. A flash of hidden pink inside. Miles of milky white skin. He'd definitely looked.

"No. Stay and talk with me a little," she pleaded.

"If you want." She'd be out soon anyway. Her eyes were already heavy.

He sunk into a chair by the bed and stretched out his long legs.

"What's on your mind tonight, sugar?"

Sex.

Wet, soapy, vigorous bathtub sex with water sloshing on the floor and pink, wet skin that was slick and soft and tight.

"Nothin'."

Pebbled, aching nipples under his fingers and against his chest. Her round ass in his hands. Teeth marks. Laughter. Lust so sharp he could taste it.

"Nothing?"

Coming deep inside her in hot, wet spurts. Those sweet, delicate folds stretched obscenely on his girth while she shook and screamed and dug her nails into him.

"Kitchen counters. Tile or polished concrete? Both 'er good." He was grasping.

Shouts echoing off the tile, wrinkled toes and fingers, and his come trickling down the inside of her leg when all was said and done. Christ. He was gonna lose it any minute now.

"Granite. Something dark to set off the maple cabinets."

"Pricey stuff." He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen. The glimpse of rose pink he'd caught between her legs as he knelt to towel her dry. How soft she had been under his touch.

Jesus. She was killing him. The scent had been even more enticing than the view. He'd wanted to follow his nose, to press his face against the source of that warm, seductive scent and make her come on his mouth.

"Pricey, yeah. But worth it. And the kitchen is small."

Legs open wide. Body twisting. His fingers pressed deep to feel her shudder and clench as she rocked back and forth against his tongue. A sharp pull in his hair as a rough shove of glossy fingers and a firm suck pushed her over.

"Hmph."

Her sultry voice, rising on a wail and breaking on his name.

Oh fuck.

"You didn't ask me what I was thinking about," she said into the thick silence.

A rumble shook his chest. "Whatcha got on deck tonight?" He couldn't take much more of this. Her scent was all over his hands. So thick and sweet and maddening. If he was alone, he'd put one to his face and the other in his pants.

"Playboy. Or is it still Hustler?"

Shit.

He did not have the patience for this right now.

"Penthouse. But just for the letters," he shot back. He was trying, he really was, but he felt like a pyromaniac with a match who'd been told to behave.

"Bet you won't need that tonight."

"Marie-" she was not wrong, but this was skating too close to the line of taking advantage for his comfort.

"I'm not drunk or high or out of my head with fever. I'm just a little under the weather, so you can take that guilty conscience and claw it in the ass."

He chuckled. There was his girl. All fire and sass and…. softness when it came to looking out for him. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you even read the letters?"

"I did this time," he said cryptically.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Comparison." There went the match, struck brightly in the darkness.

"Oh." He waited while her foggy brain worked that one through. "OH!"

"What you wrote was better." By a hundred thousand miles. He was going to light the world on fire, and soon after it would burn down around his ears. He really needed to leave.

"Thanks."

"It's just I'm not really up for that conversation tonight, baby." He was up for something. It just wasn't conversation.

He needed to come, hard and loud.

"Me either. I'm just glad it's not weird. I just wanted to test it out a little."

"No problem."

"See, it's not so bad with the words, is it?"

"Nah. Though I seem to remember you sayin' somethin' about other things gettin' a look-in as well from time to time." A flame to tinder. There it went. He was so fucked.

"I did. That's right."

"You gonna tell me what you meant by that?"

"You curious?"

"Hell, yes." Curious and stupid. All the blood had left his brain.

"Audio files mostly."

"Audio files?" He'd not expected that. "Like recordings of people havin' sex?"

"Or having sex by themselves. Either way."

"That's—"

"Weird, I know."

"Hot. I was gonna say, hot." Hot? He was on fire.

"I'm not sure why, but listening to those kinda sounds really lights my flame. Once I even came without touching myself at all." That came out in the softest whisper. Okay, maybe she was a little out of it, after all. She'd never have admitted that otherwise.

Oh, God.

Logan's eyes were hooded and dark and there was something in them she'd never seen before. Something hungry and wild and on the very edge of controlled.

"Ah, Christ." He scrubbed a hand over his face and fought down a thousand inappropriate responses. Even as he did, a piece of his heart went out to her. She was clearly desperate for touch, strung so tightly that even the sound of sex was enough to send her over. Another, more base and selfish part of him was reveling in the wonder of that little confession. It spoke to the passion locked within her. Her skin was so sensitive. Few women could orgasm without physical stimulation. Sex with her would be incandescent.

He forced that thought down hard.

"Logan?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I lied before. I do know why. It's because when it's just the sounds, I can close my eyes and make it be anyone. Anyone I want." His eyes, so black and wanting, flicked to hers.

She did not look away.

A different sort of growl than she'd ever heard rumbled low in his chest.

He stood up so fast the chair fell over backwards.

Marie's eyes widened. The size of his erection was obscene.

"I needta go."

If he stayed, he was going to climb into her bed, pull down those sweet little panties and make her scream.

"Logan?"

"Now."

He wasn't kidding. He turned on his heel and melted away.

Up next: Nasty. The Wolverine, rude, crude, and honest...