sunshine.
Layla took a deep breath and let go of her sarong. It slipped to the pool deck at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the green costume. Her leg was criss-crossed with vivid white scars with dents where muscle had been grafted from her thigh to her calf. Her leg had been through a long hard battle to avoid being amputated and had only just won. And it showed.
She waited for the look of distaste, for the screwed-up expression of horror she had seen too many times to count. But Logan didn’t show any of that. His eyes did an appraising scan of her body, lingering a little longer on the upthrust of her breasts and the cleavage its design highlighted, but there was no disgust in his gaze. There was desire. Desire that made her feel more of a woman than she had ever felt.
Layla took his outstretched hand and drew comfort and courage from the warm press of his fingers around hers. ‘Okay…let’s do this…’ She walked with him down the slab steps of the pool into the silky embrace of the water. She was conscious of his strong male body right beside her, conscious of the fact he was wearing even less than she was. Conscious of the way her body responded to him in secret—the subtle increase in her heart rate, the little flickers of lust between her thighs.
Logan let go of her hand once she was standing waist deep in the water. ‘Let the water support you. Don’t fight it. Go with it.’
Layla bounced her feet off the bottom of the pool to put herself in a floating position, allowing the water to carry her weight. It was nothing short of bliss to be supported and she starting swimming a slow freestyle, because the gentle kicking motion was a little easier to manage with her leg. Tumble turns were beyond her capability, so she stopped at the end instead, caught her breath and then turned around and came back.
The sun was warm and the water shimmering as she passed through it. She was aware of every inch of her body the water touched, her muscles enjoying the pull and tug of exercise, her skin enjoying the caress of water.
She stopped at the end where Logan was waiting for her. She stood upright and smiled, flicking wet hair out of her face. ‘I’m not quite up to your standard but thank you for encouraging me.’
‘You look very at home in the water. Like a mermaid.’ His tone had a husky edge and his dark blue eyes did another slow appraisal of her cleavage.
Layla knew she should turn around and keep swimming but something kept her frozen in place. Well, perhaps not quite frozen, for smouldering heat was travelling to every part of her body. Logan’s gaze met hers and suddenly there wasn’t a foot of space between them anymore. They were practically pelvis to pelvis with only a millimetre or two of water separating them. The magnetic pull of his body drew her inexorably closer until her breasts met the hard wall of his chest. His hands settled on each of her hips, his taut abdomen close enough for her to feel the jut of his growing erection.
Time stood still for an infinitesimal moment as if an invisible hand had blocked the ticking hand of a clock. Tick. Tock. Stop.
Logan’s head came down and his mouth met hers in a kiss that tasted of salt water, sun and male sensuality. Her mouth flowered open under the passionate pressure, her tongue meeting his in a sexy tangle that made shivers course down her spine. He moved against her and the hard nudge of his aroused body made her legs almost fold beneath her. He brought a hand to the small of her back, pressing her even closer to the throb of his flesh, his kiss deepening with a thrust of his tongue that was blatantly erotic.
Layla made a whimpering sound of encouragement, one of her hands sliding up to caress the back of his neck, the other his lean jaw. Escalating need pulsated through her entire body, her legs trembling with the sheer force of its unstoppable tide.
Logan’s hand came to her swimsuit-clad breast, cupping it through the ruched fabric, but his touch still sent a shockwave of longing through her flesh. His arousal jutted against her feminine mound and he gave a deep rough-sounding groan against her mouth before finally lifting off.
He kept hold of her by the upper arms, his breathing heavy, his gaze hooded. ‘I’m sorry.’ His tone was full of self-reproach and he released her from his hold and stepped back with a brooding frown between his dark brows.
Layla licked her lips, relishing the taste of him still lingering there. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I—’
‘I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.’ He dragged a hand over his face as if wanting to reset his features. ‘It’s not fair to confuse you by saying one thing and then doing another.’
‘The impression I got was that you wanted to kiss me and enjoyed it as much as I did,’ Layla said, challenging him to deny it with her unwavering gaze.
His gaze slipped to her mouth and he drew in a harsh-sounding breath, releasing it a whoosh of self-recrimination. ‘I enjoyed it too damn much but it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.’ He turned and launched himself out of the pool, spraying water droplets in an arc around him. ‘I’m going to go for a run. I’ll see you later.’
Layla sighed and sank under the water and began swimming again. Maybe a few punishing laps of the pool would tame her own frustrated desire.
Logan ran along the shoreline oblivious to the protestation of overused muscles. He was determined to beat this obsession with kissing Layla. He was the one who had made the rules—why was he finding it so damn hard to stick to them? Her mouth was a drug he had suddenly developed a hunger for and it was taking every bit of willpower he possessed to resist. What was it about her that made him so tempted to step over every boundary he had laid down?
But then a thought strayed into his mind…maybe he shouldn’t resist. Maybe he could tweak the rules and see what happened. The thought sat down like an uninvited guest, put its feet up and got comfortable but Logan frogmarched it out of his head. He knew what would happen and he had to avoid it at all costs. He increased his pace along the sand, ignoring the burning sensations in his legs. Ignoring the heaving of his chest as he dragged in each gulping breath.
He hadn’t forgiven himself for his last relationship disaster.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—go there again.
LAYLA WAS TIRED after her swimming session and after a shower lay down on the bed to rest with one ear out to listen for when Logan returned from his run. But he must have been doing a marathon because every time she glanced at the clock by the bed, it had gone around another half an hour until finally she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep…
Layla hadn’t had the dream in years. She was in the back of the car, her parents were arguing in the front, with her father in the driving seat. The trees on the roadside were blurred by the speed her father was going. The car swerved and spun but her father corrected it, laughing manically and asking if they were wetting their pants yet. Her mother had stopped shouting back and was now shrunk into her seat, begging him to slow down in a whimpering voice, one side of her face already blackened by her husband’s fist from the day before.
Layla saw the tree coming towards them, looming, looming. She screamed but it was too late. Too late. Too late…
Someone was trying to revive her. She could feel their hands on her shoulders and hear them calling
