"Trying to tell you something."
"What? And why are you crying?"
"What you do around here couldn't be done by anyone else, including me. I think I'm finally getting that. You have strength and commitment in spades and I'm sorry I ever let you feel like you didn't. Lily, I think you're incredible." Gwyneth hugged her hard. "Incredible," she repeated softly, and walked away.
Lily could only stare after her. Both her sisters thought she was the best thing since sliced bread today, which felt odd for a couple of reasons. One, she was the same person she'd been yesterday, last week. Even last year. Nothing had changed, so to be so suddenly accepted made her feel…off balance.
She'd finally proven herself to them, and yet the strangest thing was that she'd discovered she no longer needed their approval. She was okay with herself, she liked herself, and though it was lovely to have her family on board with her, their acceptance didn't change anything. "Gwyneth?"
Her sister stopped and turned. "Yeah?"
"If Grandma had died this week instead of last year, and left you the resort now, what would you do?"
Gwyneth smiled. "Do you trust me, Lily? I mean really trust me?"
"1 haven't," she said honestly.
"I know. But now?"
Lily cocked her head, surprised by all she saw in her sister's eyes. "I think maybe I do."
Gwyneth just smiled and walked away.
What did that mean? She looked over at Matt in bed. Logan sat at his side, reading from a joke book someone had hunted up. Sara sat on his other side. Every minute or so, Matt patted her arm, reassuring her he was alive. Lily watched the wordless glances they shared, glances that expressed everything they felt with such ease.
Because it unnerved her, made her feel things she wasn't ready to feel, she left the room and tried to bury herself in work. There was certainly enough to do, but everywhere she turned, what had to be done was being done. Logan had Matt's care covered, Gwyneth had managed any business stuff, the cafeteria was still up and running and Chris was handling snow-removal crews.
But damn it, she stood outside her office needing something to do so she could turn her damn mind off.
"Hey," Logan said, and tugged her around to face him. "It's late. Why don't you sleep?"
"I don't want to be asleep if Matt needs me."
"He's got plenty of care. Chris came in to be with him for a while."
"But-"
"The snow's still coming down, but the radar confirms a letup coming in a few hours," he said. "I double-checked with the hospital. They're sending an ambulance for Matt soon as the roads clear."
The long, tenuous rescue came back to her-witnessing Mart's incredible pain, knowing that if he'd been out there any longer they might have lost him. And just like that, she broke. "Oh, God."
He opened his arms, bringing them hard around her. "Hey, he's going to be okay. He's going to be in a helluva lot of pain for a while, but he's going to be okay."
She nodded and let herself cling, pressing her face to his throat, inhaling the innate scent of him that she'd grown so attached to in just a matter of days. In only one more, he'd be gone. He'd already be gone if Mother Nature hadn't intervened. She tightened her arms.
He let out a low sound and held on. "You never changed your clothes after the rescue."
"I'm okay."
"You've got to be chilled. Come on, let's go get you warm. Maybe get some sleep, too. Sara and Gwyneth have everything under control." Before she could protest, he'd led her to her room, nudged her inside and toward the bathroom for a hot shower.
She had to admit the hot water on her sore, chilled body felt incredible, but something was missing. Someone. She slid open the curtain to call out for Logan, but he was right there, waiting with dark, melting eyes. "In," she said, and tugged him into the shower, clothes and all.
Laughing softly, he hauled her close and kissed her, long and slow. She had no idea how he could make her feel so cherished and yet so hot and itchy at the same time, but he did. He always did. Together they stripped him out of his clothes, but when she tried to wrap her legs around him to draw him inside her body, he shook his head. "In the bed," he said softly against her mouth.
But her body was already humming, throbbing and halfway to bliss because of that shocking way he had of getting her to come with seemingly no effort. "Logan-"
"Bed." And he lifted her himself, dropping her, wet and still steaming, to the mattress, following her down.
Chapter 17
She shouldn't want him now, Lily thought, even as her breath hitched and she opened her arms, welcoming Logan's weight. Not like this, as if she needed him more than life itself. She shouldn't be able to lose herself in him with so much on her mind, but she could. She did.
She was afraid she always would.
The night was a dark one, with no moon and only the glow of the steadily falling snow slanting in the window and over the bed like a pale night-light. Just enough to see his face, taut with desire for her. His eyes, dark and deep, his firm mouth curved as it met hers.
Her blood stirred, as it always did with him, and with it came a low, throbbing need she'd never experienced with anyone else, making her heart beat with a heavy anticipation.
Gliding his fingers in her hair, his thumbs tilted her jaw up so that he could study her face. "Lily," he said, and then took her mouth, coaxing it open with warm lips and a hot tongue that danced to hers in a way that made her melt.
He always made her melt, just by looking at her, just by being. His hands slid up and down her back as he continued to kiss her, slow and deep, his fingers skimming down her hips, cupping her bottom, squeezing gently as his mouth made its way down her throat, over her collarbone, licking and nibbling and tasting as he went. He drew her breast into his mouth as his hand dipped between her thighs, making her ache with an easy touch that seemed even more intense and arousing every time.
Repetition had always bored her, but nothing about Logan came even close. In fact, his familiarity with her body only made it all the more exciting, and it built within her, layer over layer of heat and affection in the dark, cold night.
Even when she gasped out his name and dug her nails into his flesh as she began to shudder, he kept at her, leisurely and steadily, achingly so.
He wasn't unaffected. His skin was damp and heated, his heart pounded fiercely against hers. His breath caught when she returned the favor and skimmed her hands over every inch of him. When she replaced her fingers with her tongue, it tore a rough groan from him, and when she took him too close to the edge, he pulled free. Tumbling her to her back on the mattress, he held her busy hands at her sides, nuzzling his way past her belly button, between her thighs. He brought her to a peak with his mouth, his moan mixing with hers as she shuddered in ecstasy for long, lost moments. "Again," he whispered against her wet, hot flesh.
Arching, every pulse point pounding, she reached for him, needing more than anything for him to sink into her, mate with her, needing to give herself over to him and have him do the same. She wanted to see it, to watch his face as he did, the hunger so vivid and real, her throat burned, her eyes filled.
When he finally lifted her hips and slid into her, she felt her heart give, and as she let him in, a tear slid down her cheek, sweet and sorrowful at the same time. The last time, she thought. This was the last time for him to hold her, touch her… She couldn't even think it, so she pushed it out of her head and rocked to him, breathing his name as he breathed hers. He thrust in deeply as he kissed her, giving her his body, his heart and soul. Love for her flickered in his dark eyes, and her own heart and soul stumbled.
And fell.
And still she watched him love her, watched as the pleasure crossed his face, watched as he let himself go, holding nothing back.