Page 35 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

‘We are not having sex!’ she announced, determined to persuade her traitorous body as much as him, because seriously, how could she be wet for him again? When she was still a little sore from their last epic session.

Clearly Logan Colton was not the only sex addict in this room. Because the hot brick that had been jammed between her legs for seven days had already begun to pulse again.

‘Understood,’ he said, surprising her—because the man had to be able to smell her arousal. And she knew by now he usually pressed that advantage every chance he got.

But before she could evade him, or congratulate herself on sticking to her guns, he scooped her off the bed and hefted her onto his shoulder.

The air expelled from her lungs, and it took her a moment to find her outrage, through the shock.

‘Logan, what the hell?’ she yelped, holding on to the chuckle that threatened to burst out of her mouth.

If she laughed at his outrageous behaviour she’d be lost, because surely he would take that as an invitation... Because he tookeverythingas an invitation.

She struggled, desperately trying to ignore the flutter of excitement and affection making her lungs hurt and the hot brick in her belly weightless. He was usually so serious about sex, his concentration whenever he caressed her his own special superpower—because it made him impossible to resist. Playfulness was a new look for him. The problem was, it only made him more irresistible.

She pressed her palms into the solid muscles of his back, trying to lift herself, twisting and turning and ignoring the swooping sensation in her belly that threatened to beckon emotions she’d kept so carefully in check for over a week.

Before she could get too sentimental though, his large hand landed firmly on her backside.

‘Stop squirming or I will drop you,’ he said.

‘Then put me down, youdolt,’ she yelped and struggled harder.

But as he headed through the house, apparently oblivious to her protests, and the fact that they were both stark nekkid, the laughter escaped.

When he finally deposited her in the garage—beside a pile of neatly folded clothing he must have washed for her while she slept—her heart bobbed into her throat, the wicked glint in those pale blue eyes turning them into a magnetic silver.

‘Dress before you freeze,’ he ordered as that stark possessive gaze raked over her burning flesh again. ‘Or I decide to make you beg me for another orgasm.’

‘I don’t beg, fella,’ she scoffed.

But she darted away from him before he decided to test that theory. After all, they both knew she was putty in his hands—whatever her best intentions.

As she scrambled into the layers of clothing, she watched him dress himself in a more leisurely fashion, immune to the lower ambient temperature in the garage, and tried not to regret not taking him up on his offer of yet more orgasms.

Because sex was safer than seeing this new, almost boyish side to the harsh, demanding man she had spent the last week with. A side he’d never let her see before now. A side she hadn’t even known existed.

Not a big deal, Cara. In two weeks you’d have to find something else to do eventually.

‘So where exactly are we going?’ she asked as she stamped on her boots and zipped up the cumbersome snowsuit, feeling surprisingly enthusiastic about this new adventure. Perhaps she wasn’t that tired after all. And getting out of the house had to be a good thing.

They hadn’t left his Fortress of Solitude—now renamed the Fortress of Sex-capades—since last weekend, when they’d originally agreed to indulge their ‘sexual connection’. The only times they’d been apart was while he worked in his workshop and she worked up a sweat in the gym. She hadn’t even been able to venture out to check out the local wildlife because the weather had been terrible.

With the sun shining today for the first time in a week, it was way past time they found some new ways to amuse themselves. Because she was starting to get beard burn in places where it had no right to be. And that damn anxious feeling was starting to concern her.

Logan finished shrugging on his own layers, then walked to her. He zipped up her suit the rest of the way, then helped her to put on her outer gloves and the different face coverings that would protect her cheeks from the frosty air. Her heart pummelled her chest wall, her ribs feeling suspiciously tight at the methodical way he checked her clothing, to ensure she was appropriately attired. He lifted her chin, that mocking smile making her heart rate slow dangerously.

How could he look even more gorgeous when he was annoying the heck out of her?

‘I am going to introduce you to the benefits of ice swimming,’ he announced.

‘Wait?What?’ she asked, sure she hadn’t heard that correctly. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘It will revive you,’ he said, that playful smile taking a wicked turn.

‘No, it won’t. It’ll kill me,’ she managed. Before she could object further, though, he had hefted her back onto his shoulder and ordered the garage door open in Finnish.

As the icy air hit her cheeks, her renewed protests—as he trudged out into the snow and headed towards the frozen lake—turned out to be completely futile. Because her cries of outrage were muffled by the three balaclavas covering her mouth. And her flailing arms and feet were bundled up in seven layers of Arctic clothing, insulating his broad back from the fallout.

---