He put his palm on her face, the warmth of him making her want to sigh. He was close enough for her to inhale the soft spice of his cologne. Damn if it didn’t do something to her.
“I promise not to make you laugh anymore.” He traced the line of her cheek with his finger. “Come on, let me help you in the shower. No sexy times, I promise. You’ll feel better and that’ll make me feel better. Then you can have some soup and get back to sleep.”
Shower, soup, and sleep. All three of them sounded good right now, especially coming from his mouth. “Okay.” She nodded. “A shower would be good.”
The ‘no sexy times’, not so much. But she was sick, even if the nerve endings in her body protested otherwise. And if the way he held her so softly and tenderly as the spray rained down on their naked bodies made her yearn for something she couldn’t have? She’d think about that later, too.
Right now, he wanted to take care of her, and she wanted him to do exactly that. Analysis could wait for another day.
“That was delicious. Thank you,” she croaked, laying her spoon down in the empty bowl. She’d managed to sit at the kitchen table with him, her body revived from their long, hot shower. With her dark curls braided into a damp plait, she looked beautiful despite the exhaustion that made her eyelids droop and her shoulders sag.
“You’re welcome.” Logan took her empty bowl and piled it on top of his own. “I’ve put the rest in the refrigerator. There should be enough for a couple of days. Or you can freeze it if you’d prefer.”
“Not cooking for two days sounds like bliss.” She smiled at him, and he felt it right in his groin. He’d been as good as his word in the shower, only touching her to hold her up and wash her hair, his fingers gently massaging the suds into her curls, then helping her back beneath the spray to rinse it out. It hadn’t stopped him from looking, at her lithe, tight body. Or from wanting to feel h
is fingers sliding against her damp skin.
Damn it, she was sick. And so was he for wanting her.
She yawned, her head slumping to the side. “Let me help you up to bed,” he murmured, standing to put the dishes into the sink. He’d wash them once she was asleep and then let himself out. He hadn’t warned Aunt Gina he was coming, but he knew he’d be welcome in his family home anyway. And tomorrow he’d fly back to Boston and get on with his work.
He knew he was a fool for coming here tonight, yet as soon as he’d gotten her message in the departure lounge he knew he had to see her. The thought of going another month – or longer – without hearing her soft laugh, or running his fingers through her curls made his chest feel tight. She’d sounded so damn ill on the message, and he hated the thought of her all alone in her cottage without anybody to take care of her.
They were friends, after all. And friends took care of each other. That was all he was doing.
“Come on.” He hooked his hand around her waist and helped her stand. She slumped against him, and he tightened his hold. The stairs to her bedroom were steep, but he’d carried her up there before. That crazy day when they’d first met and his hormones had gone into overload, like a teenager unable to think of anything but his dick.
She looped her arms around his neck and nestled her face into him. He could feel the warmth of her breath through the open buttons at the neck of his shirt, as he carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Her eyes were drooping as he lay her on the mattress, before he pulled the covers up over her body. “I’ll grab your toothbrush,” he told her. “You can give them a quick scrub in here. Then I’ll go and let you sleep.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
“I’ll get my rest at my dad’s place, then fly back to Boston tomorrow.”
She swallowed hard. “I thought you might stay here tonight.”
“Do you want me to?” he asked, his voice low.
Her gaze met his. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I do.”
Crazy how that simple answer made his heart hammer against his chest. “Then I’ll stay.”
She smiled. “Good.”
He helped her brush her teeth, before brushing his own. Then he took his shirt and pants off, neatly folding them up on the chair in the corner of her room. Wearing only his shorts, he climbed into bed beside her, trying really damn hard not to get aroused by her sweet body.
She curled into him, her dark tresses tickling his face as he pressed against her fragrant hair. A glance at his watch told him it was just past nine o’clock.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to bed this early. Not without having sex, at least. And yet here he was, primetime on a Friday night, with a beautiful, feverish, woman, breathing softly against his chest.
If his brothers could see him right now they’d be sniggering their damn heads off.
It was a good thing his relationship with Courtney was a secret only the two of them knew.
There was something warm and damp beneath Courtney’s cheek. It took a moment for her to realize it was Logan’s chest, and she’d somehow been drooling on it. She tried to softly wipe the saliva away from his skin.
“Huh?” Logan lifted his head. In the darkness of the room, she could just about make out his features. He was frowning as he looked down at her, his eyelids half-closed. “You okay? You need something?” he asked, his voice raspy.
Strangely, she was feeling a little better. Enough for her head not to be pounding anymore. “What time is it?” she asked.