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flipped through the channels until he found a movie in the middle of a
love scene.
    “There you go.” He took a swig of his beer. “Better than
suffering more of that broiling sun.”
    For a minute or two she watched the movie, her breathing deep
and even, until the sex scene faded to dark. When the commercial came on, he
flipped channels again, finding a sports update.
    She half turned toward him, and, tension mounting, Logan waited
to see what she’d do.
    Using one hand, she touched his jaw. It was so unexpected, that
spontaneous contact from her, that it rendered him mute, immobile and
combustible.
    “Men do seem to enjoy controlling the remote, don’t they?”
    What did she know of men and their preferences on control? He
found his voice to say, “You want me to go back to the movie?”
    “I don’t care what we watch, but I’m glad you chose to stay
inside.” She brushed her fingertips down to the side of his neck. “You’ve
already gotten a little too much sun.”
    Jesus, how could one simple touch do that to him? “On my
shoulders, too,” he said huskily. “Hazard of the job, I guess. Half the time we
work shirtless.”
    Her gaze drifted to his shoulders, followed by her hand.
“Construction is why you’re so tanned?”
    “That, and I like the outdoors.” Blindly, he set aside his
beer. “Swimming, boating, just being outside. I enjoy nature.” His brother had a
very secret retreat on a lake. They’d each used it when they wanted to get away,
when even female companionship didn’t appeal.
    The log cabin was so rustic that anything more than a
five-minute shower used all the hot water. Dishes had to be washed by hand—and
so did clothing. The all-wood panel interior boasted three sparsely furnished
bedrooms, a tiny kitchen with the barest essentials and a bathroom barely big
enough to turn around in. The massive front deck, flanked by towering trees,
overlooked the small secluded lake that was big enough for fishing, swimming and
a rowboat or small trolling motor.
    “Does it hurt?” she asked softly, teasing the skin of his
shoulders.
    “What?” He ached with lust, but he didn’t think she meant
that.
    “The sunburn.” She drifted her hand up to his nape, around to
his collarbone.
    It was such a bold move for her, so unexpected, that he forgot
his plan. He caught her wrist, kissed her palm and then flattened her hand
against his chest. “Sue?”
    She stared at his mouth with yearning. “Your skin is so
hot.”
    Fuck it. She begged for a kiss, and God knew he wasn’t a saint.
In the end, what did it matter if he made his move now or later? One way or the
other, she’d be his.
    His to enjoy.
    And then his to use.
    He put his hand around her nape and pulled her in as he leaned
forward. At the first touch of his mouth on hers, she made a sound of pleasure,
and Logan knew he was a goner.

CHAPTER THREE
    C OULD ANY MAN TASTE BETTER , smell better, or be more tempting?
    Heat poured off him, and Pepper wanted to feel it all over her
body. She pictured him working outside, all macho in jeans and heavy boots, the
sun on his bare shoulders and chest, and her pulse raced. As his mouth moved
over hers, his chest hair drew her fingers again and again. Using care not to
exacerbate his sun-kissed skin, she stroked him, carefully, over his shoulders,
his chest—and down to his taut abdomen.
    Oh, God, she wanted to feel every inch of him.
    He made a sound of approval and somehow, at the same time,
lowered her to her back on the couch. The plush cushions gave way to their
combined weight, and she sank into them.
    Having a man’s solid body over her, pressing into her—she’d
missed it. So damn much.
    Each kiss grew deeper, hungrier, until they were both breathing
hard. He had his tongue in her mouth, exploring, and she just naturally twined
her own with his.
    He ran a hand down her side to her hip, his spread fingers
covering a wide path, touching so much of her. He squeezed at her hip