"I can't believe I lost again." Marie was trudging up the trail to Logan's deck carrying a familiar box.
Logan threw another log in the fire pit, sending up a wild dance of sparks, and turned to face her.
"Evenin', darlin.'" She was casually dressed; boots, jeans, and a fitted long sleeved t-shirt the shade of an orange parking cone. The retina-searing color did nothing to distract from her sinuous curves. A cropped jeans jacket and dangly earrings rounded out the look. It wasn't quite Little Red Riding hood, but it was close enough for him to feel a bit like the Big Bad Wolf.
The spring evening was perfect for a fire. The days had grown warmer, but the evenings were still cool enough that the crackling flames felt good.
He sniffed. The box didn't smell like it usually did tonight. There were no mouthwatering scents. No aromas of freshly baked bread or rich, savory spices. He could smell her though, clean and citrusy sweet with a hint of something herbal, and under it all a sultry spice that announced just how much things had changed. She'd always smelled good, but she'd never smelled like that.
Taking the box from her, Logan set it aside and waited for her to come to him. When she did — and only after she reached for him first and turned her face to his — he anchored his hands on her hips before kissing her slow and deep as her arms wound around his neck. He got to thirty-six before he felt the first tingle as her power began to draw him inside her, and broke the kiss reluctantly. Grinning, he leaned in for another. And then another. When he finally lifted his mouth, she was breathless and one of his hands had wandered from her hip to her ass. He gave her a playful squeeze moved his hands back to her waist.
"Mmm…"
"Y'taste good."
"Tamarind candy." She'd had one on the way over.
He licked her neck before arching that brow at her. "Not the candy. Just you." The Wolverine nipped her for good measure. He would have his say, as well.
She nuzzled his throat in response, quick little brushes of her nose and lips. That was new. She was too careful — still pretty skittish, but that was slowly changing. She was finally beginning to initiate little touches and that pleased him, but these brief little moments of touch were far more fleeting than they needed to be.
Her mutation took a little while to kick in. Usually it was around thirty or forty seconds, but a few times it'd been closer to a minute. It was beginning to take slightly longer each time now but he hadn't said anything yet in case the sudden awareness made her feel self-conscious enough to undo all the progress she'd made. It helped when she was distracted or relaxed. It almost always flipped on faster when she was anxious or upset.
Despite how quickly things had heated up between them on the deck that night, they still hadn't done more than kiss and cuddle. Logan didn't think she was uncomfortable with touch as much as she was afraid of what came after. Being mated to the Wolverine wasn't something that could be undone. It wasn't a decision that should be made by a child or a girl with a crush, or even by a woman whose judgment was clouded by desire and lust. Logan wanted an equal. The Wolverine needed one. The force of his indomitable will would crush anything less. She had to be sure.
Marie had taken his warning to heart. This was her time to take what she needed from him. When she was ready, when she had claimed him for her own, then and only then, would he take what he needed from her.
He thought perhaps it was her deep understanding of his feral counterpart that kept her kisses chaste and her touches light; intimate but not a prelude to sex. They still spoke candidly about sex, but she seemed to know instinctively that they had passed the place where chains could bind the Wolverine. It was simply safer this way. All or nothing. Playing in the middle of that road would be dangerous for them both. He didn't want to hurt her and he wasn't sure he could live with himself afterwards if he did.
It was just one of those things that required time and patience.
Her stomach growled and he lifted his head and chuckled. "Whatcha got on deck for dinner tonight?"
"I was thinking about making sushi tonight but then I thought maybe we'd christen the newly finished fire pit with a real cookout."
"You know how to make sushi?" Something tickled at the edge of his mind. He hated that feeling. It was like his brain was reaching for something he should know but was no longer there.
"Yep. My gran grew up in Hawaii. She learned from one of her Japanese friends." Of all the people in her family, her grandmother was the one most unsuited to Mississippi living. She'd been a Navy nurse in the Pacific theater and had met a soldier and fallen in love. She had followed him home to Mississippi and had stayed there; despite it being just a little too small for someone who'd once enjoyed a larger slice of a more diverse world. Gran had always been her favorite and the only one who'd approved of her plans to visit Alaska. Marie missed her every day. "She taught me when I was eleven. Not all the fancy sushi or sashimi, but I can do inari sushi and I make a mean California roll, although I call it a Mississippi roll instead, for obvious reasons."
"Heh. That mean it's got 'gator insteada crab?"
"Hey, now!" She swatted him.
"Eh, make it for me next time," he said with a smirk.
Marie rolled her eyes. "I can't lose every time! That's just… not right!" Losing was painful, but it was hard to hold a grudge when both she and Logan enjoyed the outcome so much.
"If you say so, darlin.' In the meantime, whatcha got for us tonight?"
"I thought we'd go Girl Scout old school tonight. Sausage dogs cooked over the fire, chips, baked beans, potato salad — gran's recipe — and s'mores for dessert." She smiled up at him. "Well, and cold beer. That's not out of the Girl Scout handbook, but I'm willing to make an exception this time because I love the taste of you when you're drinking one."
She felt him shudder slightly under her hands. The notion that she could affect such a guarded man so deeply made her feel powerful. It was a heady thing to have sway over someone like him.
"Jesus." He took a deep breath. "Standin' invitation. Any time."
"Good to know."
He was thoughtful as he opened a beer and took a sip that invited her to come and taste for herself.
"I've never had a s'more."
"You'll like them."
"How do you know?"
"Because they're sweet and gooey and melty and they make your hands all sticky and yummy. They're impossible to eat without the licking of lips and fingers." She was looking at his mouth.
"Well, hell. That's got the better-than-sex cake beat right there."
"I kinda thought you might feel that way."
They walked down to the fire pit. He let her go first so he could watch her ass.
Marie smiled when she saw the three new wooden benches he'd built. "These are really nice, Logan. Are you sure they should be outside?"
"They're nothin' special. Just pine. A test run for the ones for the kitchen table." He pointed to the closest one. "That one has butterfly joints, that one over there's got biscuit joints and this one has dovetail joints. I was just fuckin' around tryin' to work out what I liked best."
That he'd chosen benches at all made her heart jump a little in her chest. He'd never acknowledged what she'd said about them that afternoon, but the fact that he'd chosen to build them anyway spoke volumes. And damn if she wasn't still staring at his mouth. It was beginning to make him sweat.
"I didn't know you knew how to do all that." Laying a floor was one thing, but building furniture was an art. She pulled a red and white checkered cloth from the top of the box and covered one of the benches before starting to unload the food; bottles of catsup, mustard, and relish followed a bag of jalapeno chips, a package of hot dog buns, and a thick parcel wrapped in white butcher's paper that was likely the sausages.
"It's as much of a surprise to me as it is to you, baby. It was the same with the laptop. How can I forget my own name but remember the damned home row and biscuit joints? That's fucked up."
"Body memory, maybe." She rubbed his back through his dark fitted shirt. "I know it's frustrating. I'm so sorry." She pressed a kiss to his chest and then his lips. He waited for the flicker of her tongue and was disappointed when she pulled away. "Wanna trade? I'll take your Swiss cheese memory and you can have the poison skin."
"It ain't poison. Don't say that." He pulled her closer, nuzzling at the soft skin under her ear. She liked his stubble. It always made her shiver. "It's perfect. White and soft and all mine. I like it this way. S'fuckin' sexy. When we touch and I feel that tingle start…. It gets me so damned hard. I like it real good. Like how ya get when you pull a little of me in ya, too."
"Really?"
He hated that she'd taken the Cure and he was selfishly glad that it ultimately hadn't worked, but that was a conversation for another night. He had something else in mind for tonight. "Oh, hell yeah." His stomach growled loudly.
"Sounds like you brought your appetite tonight, sugar."
"Yeah." He nodded, the hint of a dirty smile touching his lips. "Both of 'em."
She just laughed. "Then make yourself useful and hunt up some sticks for the sausages."
"Yes, ma'am." When she was cooking was the only time she felt truly at ease giving him orders. That odd quirk of hers amused him. Although she had no problems being sassy with him, underneath it all she was usually pretty demure. When food was involved, however, she snapped commands like a drill sergeant. He strolled off into the trees.
Marie hadn't quite been honest with him about the food. She'd downplayed it a bit. By the time he got back, there were vegetable shish kabobs sizzling on the metal rack over the fire pit. A plate of garlic butter shrimp was skewered and ready to go. A pot of baked beans with hickory smoked bacon and cheddar cheese was beginning to bubble at the edge of the fire and she was breaking out the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate for later.
"Smells good." He handed over the sharpened sticks and pulled a bottle of Black Maple Hill out of the box, his eyebrow arched in silent question. Nice. That was some damn fine bourbon.
"That's for after the Girl Scouts go to bed."
He chuckled. "Were you really a Girl Scout? Like with the little uniform and everythin'?"
"You bet your ass. Highest cookie sales in Troop 406 three years running." A little frown touched her face and she turned away. Some of those girls she'd grown up with were the first to turn on her after her mutation manifested.
"Baby?"
"It's nothing."
"It ain't nothin'."
"Just an old bruise. I haven't thought about those girls in a long time." Her sultry smile was back. "They are not part of my plans this evening." She opened the paper wrapping the sausages. "What's your pleasure? We've got beer brats, spicy jalapeno sausage and drunken kielbasa."
"What's that?"
"Polish sausage marinated in Jack Daniels."
"I think I just had an orgasm."
"Just one, Mr. No Refractory Period?"
"Jesus, kid." He grabbed a sharpened stick and stabbed a drunken kielbasa. "Gimme a chance. The night's young…."
He had the gall to wink at her before walking his dog over to the fire and thrusting it into the flames. It sizzled in the heat.
He could sympathize.
Up next: Eternal Flame. Logan's a man with a plan and a lot on his mind as dinner winds down and they settle in by the fire for something a little more intimate than beer and brats...