SevenSensuousDays by Tina Donahue Page A

behind her. The front of his
thighs touched the back of hers. His thick rod, decidedly hard, nestled against
her ass. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his bristly skin wonderfully
rough.
    Turning his face toward hers, he whispered, “How can you see
anything with your lids shut?”
    Tessa hadn’t been aware of closing them. She cleared her
throat and tried to concentrate on the food.
    Logan’s size, the enchanting weight of his body against hers,
continued to distract. Somehow, she managed to choose deli-sliced ham,
provolone, Dijon mustard, and potato salad.
    The items shook in her hands. He ran his fingers down her
arms, cupping the containers with the same expertise he would have used to
fondle her boobs or cradle her ass. “Let me help.”
    “Okay.” She tried to catch her breath, stunned at how
outrageously weak she sounded.
    He brought the stuff to the center island. Tessa rested her
forehead against the refrigerator’s cool metal door.
    “Too warm in here for you?” he asked. All innocence. All
play.
    She straightened but kept her face lowered, hiding her
smile. “What kind of bread do you like?”
    “Rye. You? I have it all.”
    He certainly did. “Rye’s fine.”
    Logan dropped the loaf on the island, then went behind Tessa
as she made their sandwiches, his fingertips stroking her hair, skimming her
neck, slipping across her waist. Basically chaste movements that thickened her
blood and caused goose pimples to rise on her skin.
    The knife fell from her hand. Mustard sprayed across the
wood.
    “Maybe I should do that.” He spread the condiment over the
rye and built their sandwiches, all while he remained behind her, nuzzled
close.
    Tessa swallowed as well as she could and turned her face to
his. He had a wonderful profile, male and strong. His hair was amazing, so
thick and shiny.
    At length, he met her gaze.
    In the next room, the pups grew friskier, bumping into the
walls, yapping happily. The air-conditioning kicked on, its whoosh delivering a
blast of coolish air from an overhead vent.
    Logan’s muscles tensed against her, his desire evident. Yet,
he didn’t drag her down to the floor as Tessa sensed he wanted. Instead, he
whispered, “Let’s take this outside.”
    What? Their passion? The food? Both?
    Tessa had no chance to ask. Releasing her, Logan went to a
tall cupboard and pulled out a canvas shopping bag emblazoned with a grocer’s
logo. With the sandwiches wrapped in linen napkins and the potato salad in its
plastic container, Logan added silverware, more napkins, and four bottles of
Samuel Adams beer.
    He held out his hand.
    Tessa laced her fingers through his, thrilled to be touching
him again. “I’m supposed to be serving you. You did all the work.”
    “Don’t worry.” He rested his forehead against hers, just as
she’d seen her friends in school do with the boys they liked.
    If someone had come upon them now, they might have believed
that she and Logan had been dating for ages. They were that comfortable with
each other. Completely in tune.
    At least for the next seven days. After that…
    Tessa didn’t want to go there.
    “Your turn is coming,” he said.
    Okay.
    They remained as they were for a long moment. Tessa sensed
he savored the closeness, this sweet intimacy as much as she did, despite their
building appetite for each other.
    With a smile that guaranteed all sorts of wickedness, Logan
eased away. Halfway down the hall to the front door, he stopped. “Wait. Forgot
something.”
    He took a detour into the living room.
    Nearly as lengthy as a football field, one of its walls was
all glass just as the other rooms in this place. A stone fireplace dominated
the area directly ahead. Positioned in front of it were two bronze leather
sofas and three chairs upholstered in dark-cherry leather. There were numerous
accent tables with either copper lamps or lush plants resting on them. Covering
the floor was the largest area rug Tessa had ever seen. Persian, like the one
in