Master of the Mountain

He winced and then gave her a faint smile. “With you in my bed, I sleep far too easily.”

Was that an answer or not? Didn't like talking about his nightmares, maybe? She sure could understand that.

The smell of the sausage forced her attention to cooking. By the time she'd started the gravy and popped biscuits into the oven, chatter and laughter drifted in from the dining room. Jenna and Brandy came in for dishes to set the tables, chattering about their night, giving Rebecca and Logan sidelong looks as if they wanted to ask about their night also.

Like Rebecca would talk about the stuff she'd done, let alone what he'd done to her.

Even before Logan had showed up, her abused nipples and clit had tingled and ached with each brush of her clothing. And having Logan in the same room somehow made every inch of her skin more sensitive.

Trying to ignore her body, she pulled the egg casseroles out of the oven and put the bacon onto a platter. The biscuits went into a covered basket.

With a low hum of pleasure, Logan nudged her to one side so he could snag himself a couple of biscuits. After kissing her cheek-and nipping her earlobe-he retreated back to the table. She grinned and shook her head. The jerk. Now her body was really awake. If the man didn't leave her alone, she'd start wailing and rubbing on everything like a cat in heat.

Concentrate, girl. Eyes on the food, she poured gravy into another bowl just as people streamed into the kitchen. She pointed out the bowls and platters and stood aside as they carried the food away. When Mel peeked in the door, Rebecca lifted her hands. “That's it. Go eat.”

“Great,” Mel said, patting his ample belly. “It looks fantastic, Rebecca. You're a hell of a cook.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed the bacon she'd saved and treated Thor, who waited patiently at his spot inside the door. A hug and lick later, she joined Logan at the island. “Aren't you going to eat?”

“In a minute,” Logan said, not looking up. Her eyes widened when she saw what occupied his attention. She'd left her sketchbook on the table. Damn.

When her hand snaked out to pull it back, his fingers closed on her wrist, holding her in place with an ease that made her panties wet. Darn it, he shouldn't be able to affect her like this, especially with some macho, strong-man tactic.

His steel blue gaze met hers, and her stomach took a ride down an elevator without a bottom floor. Never mind the strength…his effect on her was born from his sheer competence, the authority in his gaze, and his easy assumption that she'd obey.

His lips curved. “Are you one of those creative types that doesn't share her work until it's finished?”

She wet her lips. She tried to tug her arm and got nowhere except to increase the heat sizzling through her veins. “Ah, right. I don't share.”

His eyes narrowed. “You've never lied to me before, sugar. Don't start now.” He rose and towered over her, taking her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Truth, please.”

“Damn you.” And damn her telltale coloring, which had undoubtedly turned red. “I drew stuff that…that's embarrassing, okay?”

“Ah.” The devil probably had a grin just like that. “Now I definitely have to look.” He curved an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him as he sat back down on the stool, flipping the pages.

Landscapes at first, Paul and Amy sunning on the rocks at the lake, scenes from Yosemite, the waterfalls. One of Jake squatting at the edge of a creek, lecturing about fish. Logan behind his desk, cold and implacable, just like the first time she'd seen him. He grinned at that, flipped the page, and let out a shout of laughter.

Ashley with tits so big she had to hold them up and a bladelike nose over collagen-gone-wild lips. “Remind me to never piss you off, sweetheart.”

Another of Logan in his Dom mode, power almost shimmering off the page. A deer with a fawn peeking from behind its legs.

Logan sighed and took her hand. “You can draw like this, and you do advertising instead?”

His question increased her resolve to think about her life, but he didn't harass her or try to talk her into something, just raised the question and let it drop.

Two pictures of Thor-one drawn how she'd originally seen him as a growling, terrifying monster, and one she'd done yesterday with his happy grin, tongue lolling half out. Logan tapped that one. “Sell me this.”

Finally something she could give him back. Reaching across him, she tore it out of the pad. “It's yours.”

His eyebrows rose.

“Consider it payment for the…lessons.” Okay, she'd started blushing again.

He pulled her between his legs, trapping her between unyielding thighs. His hands tightened around her waist, sending a tremor through her. “You think I need payment for what happened between us?” Brows together, eyes narrowed, obviously displeased.

“Uh. Nope, guess not.” Her legs wobbled when his hands slid up to graze her breasts. “How about it's a present because I…” Enjoyed the sex? She slammed her mouth shut and tried again. “Because we're friends?” But more than friends. Really. Weren't they?

“That will work, little rebel,” he murmured. His lips curved up. “If you don't want to try out the table, right here and now, I suggest you go eat your breakfast.” His jeans bulged with a thick erection.

It took a major effort to pull back, and another one to make her shaky legs go in a straight direction.

* * * * *

Logan had disappeared into his rooms for part of the morning, then reappeared and talked Rebecca into helping with trail repairs. But they'd had to stop when a storm hit, whipping the trees and whistling around the lodge. Rain poured down in what the frat mother from Texas would have called a gully-washer.

Logan asked if she wanted to drive into town with him, but she'd been too enchanted by the storm, so she and Thor had huddled together on the lodge porch while the tempest raged. After the rain stopped and Thor had trotted away, undoubtedly to investigate some doggy thing, she'd spent a lovely few hours painting, trying to capture the eerie sunlight sliding through the dark clouds overhead.

The quiet time gave her a chance to think over what had happened yesterday…and last night. Logan had tied her up. And she liked it. He'd punished her, and she didn't like it, but even that had aroused her. Logan had let Jake see her naked, and okay, that still bothered her. But not enough for her not to have come, obviously, since she had. She'd think she'd gone insane, except Logan said an amazingly high number of people got off on dominance and submission. And bondage. The whole BDSM route.

She scowled. Logan, the man, made her hot. Logan, the Dom, turned the heat to incandescent. Just the thought of how he restrained her and took her, not giving her any choice in…in anything, made her wet. Really wet.

Okay, Rebecca. Paint. Don't think. Just paint.

When she finally put her art supplies away, she realized she was smiling. All the nerves from her job-and from the swingers-had been silenced, and she simply felt content.

But she needed to start supper. Tonight she'd planned a simple Italian menu: spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread. She pulled the sausage out of the refrigerator and started it to brown, then opened the back door for Thor.

No Thor.

She stepped outside and inhaled the fresh air, looking around for the dog. How odd. He always waited at the back door, well before every meal. Logan hadn't taken the dog, and Jake had led some club members up an easterly trail to snap pictures of rainbows. When Thor left after the rain, the dog had gone up the trail to the west.

Where could he be?

After turning the sausage, she checked the door again. And again. And again. By the time the spaghetti simmered in a giant pot, she couldn't stand waiting anymore. Jake said Thor never missed a meal…ever. Something must be wrong.

She went into the main room. Almost empty except for three men playing cards.

“I call,” Mel growled.

Paul scowled at him and then glanced up at Rebecca. “Something wrong?”