Page 63 of Love Quest

I push Logan off.

He begins to protest, but stops when I take off my shirt, his eyes darkening.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a low, husky voice.

“I’m hot,” I say.

Logan’s gaze on my exposed skin is more searing than his hands.

Eyes locked on his, I free my hair from the braids, slowly extricating each strand until soft waves are tumbling over my bare shoulders.

“If you take anything else off, I won’t just kiss you,” Logan threatens.

Acting bolder than I feel, I unbutton my pants and do my best to shimmy out of them in the confined space of the tent while still trying to look sexy. With one final kick, I toss them to the side and stare down at Logan in a silent challenge.

No turning back now.

17

WINTER

If kissing Logan made my skin burn, making love to him melts all the bones in my body. Under his touch, I lose every sense of self. Exhausted, battered, and running away from trigger-happy lunatics, I’ve never been more deliriously blissful in my entire life.

Now I get what the fuss about hate sex is.

Only, as Logan’s lips brush on mine while our bodies are joined, I’m not sure it’s hate that links me to this man at all. His gaze on me is so soul-baring, I can’t cope. Unable to deal with my feelings, I close my eyes and let my body take over, losing myself in the moment. Until we both collapse on the tent floor, spent, falling asleep almost immediately in each other’s arms.

* * *

The morning after should be awkward, but it isn’t. We wake up naked and sweaty, and, as if reading my mind, Logan opens the tent flap and rushes out, yelling, “Last in the water is a loser!”

And who knew the professor, so serious and stern on first impression, had a playful edge? Last night I got familiar with his sex-god side, but it looks like I’m in for a few more surprises.

I run after him barefooted, laughing as I imagine what Tucker would say if he could witness our total disregard of his jungle safety directives. A few short yards, and I dive in the river head-first, sinking underwater. The liquid streams through my hair and cools my scalp, and nothing has ever felt better—well, except for Logan’s hands on my skin last night.

I re-emerge right behind him and splash him. He turns and splashes me back… until his eyes drop to my bare chest and I read the change in them: time to play a whole different game.

We make love in the water, quick and animalistic. Once it’s over, Logan gives me another long kiss and carries me out of the river in his arms. He lays me on the rock to dry and walks to the tent, regaling me with a view of his delicious white buns.

When he comes back, he’s already wearing his boxer shorts. Logan hands me my clothes and then folds up the one-person tent.

We eat breakfast sitting on the rock in our underwear while our skin dries off. This close to the river, and without the steam from yesterday’s storm coating the jungle, there are no insects around to pester us.

Protein bar done with, Logan turns to me. “As much as I’d like to spend all day here with you, we have to get back to camp.”

“I know,” I say.

We get dressed, collect all our supplies, and once my backpack is nestled once again between my shoulders, I take hold of Logan’s hand and interlock our fingers. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Logan

We reach the main camp when there’s still an hour or so left of daylight. Enough for us to assess the situation while remaining hidden in the bushes at a safe distance.

I squint, but from this far away, I can’t tell if the camp has been overrun or not.

“Can you see anything?” I ask.

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