"Scott! Slow down!" Jean commanded, her eyes wide and her knuckles white against the co-pilot armrests.
Ignoring the frantic edge of his girlfriends voice Scott edged the plane that much faster. His mind, normally cool and controlled, even under the most extreme pressure, was in turmoil. Having been awakened just over ten minutes ago by an emergency call from Logan's phone--GPS signal located in Boston-- Scott's initial reaction had been immediate concern for Ororo. Had she been hurt? Was she ok? His blood had pooled ice cold in his gut at that thought that she may have needed him and he wasn‘t there for her, but his fears had been momentarily alleviated by the woman on the phone when she had said, "No, Storm's fine. Kicking ass right now, actually." But that relief was short lived in the very next breath. "My bartender Lorna is hurt. She's been shot."
Scott had felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, momentarily unable to draw a breath. Although he and Lorna had not spoken in months, seeing her on his and Ororo’s visit with Hank had reminded him of how much she had meant to him. He didn’t realize exactly how much until that moment.
Images of Lorna rose up in his mind: the way she smiled so easily, the way she tilted her head slightly when she was really listening and the tranquil melody of her laugh. The thought of never hearing that again…well, it was near unbearable.
"Scott, please, you're making my headache," Jean beseeched, her fingers
working her temples.
"One minute to location." He eased back on the stick slightly. They had made the
trip from Westchester to the outskirts of Boston in record time. His jaw ticked in rhythm with his heartbeat. "Hold on, Lorna," he whispered under his breath.
In her seat, Jean winced.
Ororo leaned her back against the brinks of the Rebellion, taking deep, even
breaths. The fight, if it could even really be called that, had been over in a matter of minutes. A bit of fog cover provided by her and Logan had dispatched the mutant haters efficiently. His fierce attack and vicious snarls had put enough fear into the opposition to last a lifetime. She swore she had heard grown men whimpering like babies before the fight was over.
The fight had been all Logan, but the fire, on the other hand, had taken significant concentration on her part to bring under control. The accelerants the rioters had used made it difficult to extinguish the blaze because water wasn't really helping. Ororo had been forced to carefully suck the oxygen from the flames by way of a funnel, a wind-vacuum of sorts, and effectively suffocate the fire without suffocating the two women still inside the building. It had been tricky, but she had pulled it off.
The crunch of boot heels on gravel caught her attention. "I did a sweep. Those fuckers are long gone. No scent for miles."
She glanced up at her dark haired companion, who was covered in a sheen of sweat, then quickly away. Why the hell did he have to look so…so… "Good," she muttered.
Logan stepped in front of her, his broad chest filling her vision. "You okay, darlin‘?"
"No." She shook her head. "Bastards like that…" she trailed off, her voice becoming tight. Racist bigots the lot of them. The world would be better off with them wiped off the planet. She winced, realizing that thinking was exactly in line with theirs. She took another breath. No. There was always a better way than to become that which she so vehemently hated.
"How's the girl?" Logan brushed his fingers against her cheek, so softly and fleetingly that she didn't feel it. He frowned, noting a bruise forming there.
Ororo peered back over her shoulder to where Ali was holding Lorna up against the bar. Lorna, bless her soul, had used her magnetic pull to remove the bullet from herself and clot the blood pouring from her wound. She was currently swearing up and down that she would be fine and that Ali should learn to relax. Ali. It was comical.
Lorna was still very pale, Ororo did notice, and very weak. Long mint curls hung in disarray about Lorna's pretty face, sticking to her forehead where she was sweating, and her teeth chattered between near blue lips.
"She's in shock," Ororo replied, her voice cracking with anger towards the men that hurt her friend.
"She’s a tough chick." Logan grunted.
"Yeah. She is."
"Probably the company she keeps." There was something in his voice that
made her look up at him. "You're gonna have a shiner," he told her, gesturing to her cheek.
"Not the first. I'll survive." She shrugged. There eyes met and held. Hers reflecting a longing she couldn't put into words and his darkening with hungry need. She leaned forward, instinctively answering his silent call.
Warm hands cradled her face before his hands clenched in her hair and he swooped his head towards hers, capturing her lips in a hot kiss that dizzied her senses and made her stomach tighten in anticipation. His tongue swept her bottom lip, urging her to open for him. She obeyed without thinking, moaning as he plundered deep. Her senses went on overdrive, every sensation magnified from the rough texture of Logan’s shirt beneath her wandering fingertips to the flow of blood in her veins, heating her body to feverish levels.
"Cavalry's here." Logan muttered, nipping her top lip, reluctant to break contact.
Ororo blinked dazedly when he pulled back slightly. "What?"
His smile was borderline smug. "Blackbird." He gestured with his thumb overhead. Sure enough the X-Men plane was coming into view, the cloaking device shimmering off as the jet began it's descent.
"Oh." She took a step away from him, her eyes once more guarded and unrevealing.
Damn, Logan thought with a scowl. He could almost see the walls being erected around her. He turned to face the plane, wishing he'd had thirty more seconds of privacy with Ororo.
The jet‘s hatch opened. "Storm, where's Lorna?" Scott called from the plank, his hand on the side of his visor, ready for action.
Before Ororo could reply, Lorna's voice, weak and shaky, came from inside the bar through the busted window. "Scott? Is that you?"
"I'm here!" he called in return, jogging towards the still smoldering building. He squeezed Ororo’s shoulder as he passed, glad beyond measure that she was all right. He pushed open the beaten door, his face tightening into controlled rage when he saw the destruction and crimson blood staining Lorna's clothes.
"Scott!" Lorna broke away from Ali and staggered towards him.
He caught her up against him, hugging her carefully. "Easy. I've got you."
Outside Jean's mouth thinned as they watched the exchange through the broken window. "Her injury doesn't appear life threatening," she stated, her tone almost accusatory.
"A bullet through the back is always life threatening," Logan stated matter of factly. "She was lucky that she survived. She's lost a lot of blood."
"She needs to get to a doctor." Ororo added.
"I'm sure the Academy is fully staffed." Jean said, ice dripping from her words. Her green eyed gaze flickered briefly between Ororo and Logan. It wasn’t a friendly look.
"I'm sure they are," Ororo said, equally icy. She turned and headed for the
bar, deciding that another fight was best avoided. Her nerves were already frayed from the combination of the attack on her and Ali's bar, Lorna's injury and last but certainly not least, by Logan and everything that had transpired between them earlier that day and just as the Blackbird arrived.
She sighed under her breath. Truth be told, she disliked the tension between her and Jean. At one time they had been rather close, but that was before she had left with Xavier‘s million, and nothing had ever been exactly right between them since she’d come back. Deciding that those thoughts were best left for another time, Ororo stepped back into the club.
"Look at her," Jean hissed, drawing Logan’s attention. She was staring through the busted window towards Lorna, who stood resting her head on Scott's shoulder from within the protective circle of his arms. "Hanging on him."
Logan cocked a brow. "She was just shot, Red. I think she's a bit weak in
the knees from more than Scooter's charm."
"But she does want him," Jean said, her eyes narrowed. "I know she does."
"So what? Scooter only has eyes for you, Jean. Always has."
A look, almost like pain, crossed Jean's elegant features. "Not always,"
she whispered, leaving Logan to ponder what she meant as she trekked quietly
back towards the plane.
"Damned if I'll ever understand a woman," Logan muttered, shaking his head.
Ororo leaned forward, letting the steaming water from the shower sluice over her shoulders and down her chest. She watched with mild fascination as the water at her feet swirled down the drain, the stream tinted pink and black from blood and soot.
Following Jean and Scott’s arrival at the Rebellion the team had loaded Lorna into the medical bay of the Blackbird and set off for Emma Frost’s Academy. Ali had seen them off, assuring Ororo that she had a safe place to crash and that she would get in touch with her in the morning. Ororo had been reluctant to leave her, but Ali had insisted. “Have you ever known me not to be able to watch my own back, Munroe?” she had asked, slight irritation evident in her crossed arms and cocked brow.
“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a shift now and then,” Ororo had countered.
“I appreciate it, I do, but really there’s no need to go all maternal. I’ll call you later.” She crossed her heart.
“You’d better.” Ororo hugged her tight. “If you need me, use this.” She gave her one of the X-Comms.
“Will do. Now scat. You got people that need you.” Ali gestured towards the waiting plane.
Thinking about it now Ororo wished she had been more insistent. Alison was more than capable of handling herself, and had been doing it for years, but Ororo still felt very big sister towards her friend. Not to mention guilty for leaving those months that she’d been away.
The flight to the Academy had been rather somber and quiet. No one asked any questions and no information had been volunteered. Scott had piloted while Jean had cleaned and bandaged Lorna’s injury. Ororo had to admit that she was impressed with Jean’s bedside manner. She had been calm, efficient and polite. Not an easy thing to do considering that Lorna practically radiated her dislike of the red head. If Ororo had been picking up on it, then it must have been blaring in Jean’s head.
Thankfully the flight had only lasted a few minutes. Alex and Hank had met them on the roof of the Academy atop the double Helipad. The school had been apprised of the situation and notified en route by Scott to expect them, so a stretcher and staff were also waiting.
There had been a brief tense moment shared between Alex and Scott as the elder Summer’s passed Lorna, who was resting in his arms, to the younger brother. For the briefest of moments it had looked like Scott had been ready to flat out refuse to give up the woman in his arms, but then he did what he always did; the right thing and handed her over.
Ororo rubbed the back of her neck. Scott had made some genuine strides in loosening up, but some character traits were hardwired, and Scott’s code of right and wrong was one of them. It was wrong to want to hold Lorna when he had Jean and she was with Alex. Ororo had read the look on his face clearly. It was a mix of longing, guilt and acceptance all rolled into one.
They had waited at the Academy, under the watchful eyes of Ms. Frost, whose appearance lived up to her name. Stark white satin pajama bottoms and long sleeved top, white slippers, white robe, ash-blonde hair and pale blue eyes on alabaster skin. Despite her frigid appearance Ororo had found her concern for Lorna to be quite genuine as well as the hospitality in her offer to keep the X-Men over night .
Immediately that offer was rejected by Jean. “We need to return to our home. The Professor will have questions.” Her eyes rested on Ororo as she spoke.
“Questions that can wait.” Scott had said, his voice firm. “I think we all could use a shower and some rest. Thank you, Ms. Frost. We’ll be gone early in the morning.”
Ororo knew that he wanted to stay and see how Lorna fared in surgery and through the night, but he was also protecting her from Xavier’s wrath. The Professor would not be happy with her late night trip to Boston, or the repercussions. She was already on his shit-list for stealing his money and revealing where it came from. She was pretty sure this little incident probably rose her a couple of notches on the list. She was probably not far beneath Magneto by now.
All said and done, Ororo had to admit that she was the cause of a lot of the nights events. Had that bar fight not broke out, then perhaps the anti-mutant assholes wouldn’t have found the Rebellion; and had she not been so eager to prove herself and fight away the vulnerability left in her by Logan, then the fight most likely wouldn’t have occurred in the first place.
Even though Lorna had survived, the only damage being a collapsed lung; which was bad enough, as far as Ororo was concerned, she felt more than a little responsible for the injury.
Her face scrunched up as she recalled the way Lorna's body had jerked with the impact of the bullet and the horrible feeling of helplessness that she had felt as warm blood sprayed her face and she could do nothing”nothing!”to stop what had happened.
She closed tired eyes, swaying slightly, exhaustion creeping in. It had been a long day and a new one was only a couple hours off. Best leave the self-deprecating until morning. She was certain Xavier would be the cherry atop her guilty sundae. He’d have more than an earful for her to take in, that much was certain.
With a resigned sigh Ororo tilted her head to the side, pulling her fingers through the tangled mess that was her hair. She winced when she hit a snarl. She carefully began separating the knotted strands with her fingers. She was so concentrated on the tangle she did not hear the bathroom door open, nor did she see the shadow cross the frosted swirl pattern of the shower door. It wasn’t until the door swung open and a cold blast of air invaded the steamy stall did she snap her head up, startled.
Logan, naked as the day he was born, stepped into the stall behind her, closing the door with a soft click. His broad expanse filled the shower and Ororo was momentarily distracted by the spray of water matting dark hair to that muscular chest. He moved towards her. She held out one hand as though to ward him off. “Go away, Logan.” she whispered. “I don’t want to see you now.” It was a lie.
Silent, he snagged the wrist of her outstretched hand, tugging her towards him. She turned away but that only allowed him to press against the curve of her back. She struggled not to feel anything, fighting for control of her traitorous body, already aching for him. She inhaled a sharp breath when she felt his lips touch her shoulder, followed by the light friction of his tongue. Soft, warm, lingering kisses were placed along the curve of her shoulder, and neck, moving towards her ear.
She closed her eyes, tears clogging her throat. Too much had happened this night and she felt so raw. “Logan…please…” Please, what? She didn’t know. “Why are you doing this?” Ororo asked, her voice strained. “What is it you hope to accomplish? You don‘t want to be here, so go away.”
Logan kissed the nape of her neck, his lashes veiling his eyes. “I’m exactly where I wanna be.” He turned her, gently, in his arms. He touched her face, his thumb stroking her darkening bruise. His eyes flickered momentarily dark, then once more were storm cloud gray. He brushed her closed lashes with his lips.
Ororo’s fingers flexed on his slick forearms. What was he doing? She wondered frantically. Hadn’t he made it clear that he found her good for a fast rough and tumble, an maybe not even that, but certainly not this. She had no idea how to handle this. She was at a loss.
She resisted when she felt him pull her closer, but only for a moment. He cradled the back of her head in his large palm, tilting her head. She sighed, giving herself up to the wonder of his mouth as it settled over hers in a deliberately slow kiss. Oh, God…she was lost.
Logan lifted his head, staring at Ororo’s upturned face, his expression unreadable. He released her slowly. He reached for her shampoo, motioning with his finger that she turn around. She bit her lip, but obeyed, turning, too tired to argue or try and make sense of this strange behavior. Logan turned the bottle, pouring a liberal amount of the shiny goo into the palm of his hand before working it through her think mane. He took his time, massaging her scalp, running his hands the full length of her hair.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say right now,” she said as he worked.
Logan’s mouth quirked. “Words are overrated.”
His hands continued their steady scrubbing. Every once in awhile Ororo thought she felt a small kiss on her shoulders but she couldn’t be certain. The rhythmic motion of Logan’s hands were lulling her into an almost trance-like state. Her head dropped forward, and her shoulders relaxed.
She was turned again, allowing Logan to rinse the well worked strands. Satisfied that all of the soap was removed Logan bent past her and shut off the water. “C’mon.” He linked his hand with hers, opening the door.
More than tired and a bit stunned Ororo followed, watching the play of muscles beneath damp skin along Logan’s back. How he could look so powerful simply walking she’d never figure out. Untamed and male. She would be absolutely foolish to lose her heart to a man like him. He would surely break it into a million pieces.
Logan grabbed two large white towels from the small closet beside the shower. He shook them out with one hand, wrapping one around her torso and the other he tucked carelessly around his waist. “There we go.” He patted the soft material. He reached for her again.
Ororo halted him, pushing away his hands. “Stop.”
He stopped.
She paused, searching his eyes. “Why are you here, Wolverine?”
“I want to be.”
She gave him a long look. “So you said, but why? If it’s because you feel some sort of guilty obligation for not wanting me earlier than don‘t both--”
“Whoa, darlin’.” He shook his head, a scowl forming. “You got the wrong idea I that’s what yer thinkin’.”
“What else am I supposed to think?” she questioned. “You left me half ass naked on the side of the road.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right about that. I don’t.” She tried to step away from him, to put some distance between them, but he was having none of that. One thick arm curled around her waist, pulling her up tight.
“Trust me, ‘Roro. That wasn’t the case.” His eyes were darkening.
“Well, then, explain to me what was the case.”
He shook his head in the negative. He had not fully gotten rid of the dangerous edge from earlier. The multiple fights had curbed it a bit, but it was still there and he honestly didn’t feel like waking the slumbering beast by thinking of how much he had wanted to dominate her and mark her and…fuck. He felt his cock twitch to life.
Ororo must have felt it too because she glanced down. She returned her gaze to his and he could see the caution there. “I’m waiting.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ah, yes. Words being overrated and all.” Exasperation was evident in her voice.
“Hell yes, they are.” He pressed her closer, causing the white towel to chafe erect nipples. “’Sides, I don’t wanna talk.” His voice was dark seduction, washing over her in sinful invitation. He nuzzled her throat.
Ororo closed her eyes, her head falling back on a sigh. Wait, no. She jerked upright. “Stop. I can’t think when you do that.”
He looked at her, smug satisfaction on his face at her words.
“Don’t get too cocky,” she grumbled. “I’m so tired I probably couldn’t think straight right now if my life depended on it.”
Logan’s grip loosened and he nodded, hearing the fatigue in her tone and seeing it in her stance. “Let’s get you to bed.” He opened the bathroom door.
The bedroom was larger than the one she had at Xavier’s with a larger four poster bed and canopy. Gossamer ribbons fluttered against the dark wood.
“Girly.” Logan muttered, with a sneer.
“I’m a girl.” She reminded him.
“I know.” He watched her walk to the bed and the gentle sway of her hips. “without a doubt, I know.”
Ororo grasped the corner of the bedding and turned back the dark blue coverlet, folding it at the foot of the bed. She lifted the sheet, then glanced at Logan, who was staring at the floor beside the bed. Too late she remembered what was bedside.
“I was wondering when I’d ever see that hat again,” he commented.
She feigned surprise. “Well, look at that.”
He cast her a sly look. “Yeah. Look at that.”
She bent down, lifting the Stetson. She brushed the rim with her fingers. “Well, it’s yours. Here.” She tossed it onto the foot of the bed.
Logan made his way to the bed and lifted the hat. He rubbed the well worn material with surprising affection. He chuckled, giving her an enigmatic look. “How about you keep it,” he murmured, stepping beside her.
She blinked. “But it’s your favorite.”
He cocked his head. “Didn’t stop ya from stealin’ it.”
“No, I suppose not.” She admitted.
“So don’t get all bent when I wanna give it to you.” He placed it atop her head. “Besides, looks better on you than it ever did on me.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips over hers fleetingly.
Ororo didn’t know what to say, so she settled on, “You confuse the hell out of me.”
He rubbed a hand through his wild hair. “Yeah. Ditto.”
She stared at him. He stared back.
His mouth crushed hers, all at once demanding. Teeth tugged her lower lip, tongue sliding along the seam before thrusting deep, staking claim. He dragged her closer, murmuring something unintelligible against her mouth.
Ororo pulled away panting. “This is crazy. You make me crazy. I don’t know what to do. One minute you want me, the next you don’t, then you’re gentle, the next you‘re…” she trailed off.
“Burning,” he finished for her. He cupped her backside, grinding in a slow undulation.
All thought left Ororo in a rush. She drifted on a rising tide of lust, her body alive and tingling, the sensation wiping away the fatigue and jolting her wide awake.
Logan tangled his fingers in her snowy white hair, knocking the Stetson back to the floor. He marveled at the silken feel of the strands slipping between his fingers. If a person could capture a cloud and touch it, he was certain it would be that exact texture. He touched his mouth to hers.
“Logan.” She murmured his name, breathed it into his mouth. Her voice was full of sensual promise and hidden longing. He never tired of hearing it.
His body was rock hard, almost painful. She could do that to him so damn easily. One touch, one whisper could wipe away his control and leave him aching, aching, for her.
He dispensed of their towels with a quick tug. He kissed his way from her lips to her breast, his mouth suckling greedily. She made a soft cry, her hands clutching his shoulders. He backed her up slowly, laying her down onto the cool bed. His erection, thick and heavy pulsed with need.
His mouth found hers again, feeding on her sweet taste. She groaned throatily, the sound sending a shiver of pure lust through his body. She gasped when he parted her legs, his fingers moving over her damp curls.
“So soft,” he growled.
Ororo moaned, her hips arching off the mattress as Logan pressed a single finger deep. She sucked in a shaky breath when he probed her navel with his tongue. That breath became lodged in her chest when his next flick was against her wet folds. “Oh, God.”
Logan heard her cries, felt her fists tug at his hair but he was relentless. He sucked and flicked hungrily, savoring her taste and the increasingly frantic cries she was making. She was so slick and wet, hot and ready. He growled with his mouth still pressed flush to her center and Ororo shrieked. It was a most rewarding sound.
She was dying. Oh, sweet Jesus, she was dying! Sensation burst through her body as orgasm after orgasm tore through her, leaving her practically sobbing from the onslaught. “I can’t…Oh, oh, please…Logan!” She arced high, her fingers yanking his hair in a death grip. Lightning flashed through the windows and the roll of thunder that followed was deafening.
Logan rose above her, his eyes near black with hunger, a snarl of possession on his glistening lips.
He was waiting, she realized dimly, her body still shaking with the after effects of his skilled tongue. He was silently asking for her permission. “Yes,” she whispered.
Logan growled victoriously, giving one powerful thrust, surging forward, finding home. He winced as her nails bit deep into his shoulders, drawing blood. The scent ignited the smoldering embers from before and he shook with restraint. Damn it, damn it. He drew in ragged breaths, trying in vain to keep himself in check.
His harsh face was etched with dark desire. His teeth gleamed in the shadows, long incisors visible with his grimace. It was a terrifyingly erotic look that made Ororo breathless. He was so savagely beautiful in that moment she could do nothing more than stare up at him in wonder.
Logan was confused. He could feel the beast clawing at the surface, struggling to break free and Ororo should have been frightened beyond belief but instead she was staring up at him with such awe that he was momentarily frozen.
“Magnificent,” Ororo whispered, touching his face.
Logan jerked back. “Damn it, woman, don’t move.” His voice was guttural, torn from somewhere deep.
Ororo’s mouth curved slightly, bordering on wicked. “You mean like this?” She bucked her hips.
“Fuck.” Logan responded by ramming into her hard. “’Ro…” He didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want her to see what an animal he really was. He’d never shown anyone this side of him and Wolverine was dangerously close to breaking free. “You don’t,” he thrust again, “understand.”
But she did. Ororo was suddenly, instinctively certain that she knew why Logan had pushed her away before. It saddened her to think no one had ever shown him that it was okay to embrace the darkness within, that it was all right to feel that hunger and need. “It’s all right,” she whispered, touching his face again. He flinched like she had slapped him. “Logan, listen to me. It’s all right.”
Sweat dripped from his forehead. She couldn’t possibly know what she was saying, he thought. He needed to calm down, collect his bearings, slow things down. He needed to focus, that was all. He could get his shit under control. He could.
She smiled up at him.
Fuck! Logan clamped his fingers around her wrists and slammed them over her head, holding her helpless beneath his heavy body. He began moving in a hard, merciless tempo, his hips pumping furiously, pounding over and over. “I’m sorry.” his voice was harsh, sexy.
“Don’t be.” Ororo gasped, her body already approaching orgasm. “I understand.”
His hands tightened around her wrists. He stretched, plunging deeper. Ororo licked across the heavy muscles of his chest, her teeth scraping his nipple.
“God, baby.” He buried his face in the hollow of her neck.
Ororo’s body clenched when she felt the sharp sting of his teeth pierce skin. In that same instant her orgasm ripped through her, and her body convulsed, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. “Logan!”
He released her wrists, wrapping his thick arms around her as he continued to piston toward his own release. He pressed as close as he could, his mouth open but no sound came out, the feelings too intense even for that.
Ororo felt him explode in hot spasms and finally a low sound was torn from him. It sounded like a coarse rendition of her name, but she wasn’t sure.
“Hold onto me.”
The request surprised her, but Ororo complied, hugging him even as he rolled to the side. They lay side by side on the bed, facing one another. His fingers shook slightly when he brushed her hair from her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly.
“No.” she smiled tenderly. “That was beautiful.”
He started to speak, but seemed at a loss. He blinked, swallowed, and tried again. “’Ro…you don’t have to…”
She placed her fingers over his lips. “Logan, shush. You talk too much. Haven’t you heard, words are overrated.”
His own mouth curved a bit at that. “I should let you get some sleep.”
She yawned. “Yeah.”
Neither moved.
“So,” Ororo asked mildly. “Which side of the bed do you prefer?”
Logan didn’t care to contemplate the warm flare that erupted in his chest at that moment, and instead said, “Here’s fine.”
“Good.” Ororo yawned again, snuggling closer.
Logan, befuddled, shifted so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever shared a bed with a woman for an entire night. It had always been a fuck ‘em and run for him. Soft breath stirred his muttonchops. Ororo was already asleep. Logan pressed a kiss to her forehead, enjoying the softness of her breasts and legs pressed against his. Sharing a bed wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought closing his eyes. Hell, a man could get used to it…
