Logan was glad he had decided to go for a run instead of a Danger Room session that morning. While beating up some realistic holograms could normally slake the needs of his feral side, the sight of Rogue blushing and flustered appealed to both the human and feral in him. Then she came back with that little bit of sass and he almost grinned even as he teased her back. He never grinned.
He knew Rogue, maybe better than she thought. No matter how much she gave in to an impulse, no matter how much she wanted what had happened between them, once she had a chance to actually think he was pretty sure she would start to overthink, overanalyze, maybe doubt that they should continue along the same vein. Logan knew he would have to keep her off balance a little if he wanted her—and he definitely did. Unlike Rogue, he rarely regretted or second-guessed his instincts, and his instincts were screaming at him to claim her.
Logan finished his run in a good mood and went to his room to shower. Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, he made his way to the kitchen, fixed a cup of coffee, and settled at one of the comfortable wooden tables scattered around the large informal room to wait. Eventually his patience paid off when he heard Rogue’s distinctive footsteps approaching. Funny, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d memorized the pattern, but he was confident it was her.
Rogue proved his subconscious correct when she appeared in the doorway, wet hair braided back and a slightly hunted look in her eyes. Logan was sure she didn’t see him right away where he was sitting, half-hidden by shadows. If she had, she might not have walked so calmly over to the refrigerator. She opened the door and bent down to rummage through the fruit drawer. From his vantage point, Logan was able to get a good long look at the way her jeans hugged her ass, a tantalizing inch of skin showing where her black shirt road up slightly. He almost growled in disappointment when she straightened and shut the door; he was just barely able to hold it in check.
Logan knew she saw him when she turned around because she froze with a green apple raised partway to her mouth, which hung slightly open for a moment before she snapped it shut. He raised his eyes slowly from her hips up the lush curve of her breasts—and what pretty color of lace was she wearing under her shirt, he wondered—and finally met her eyes. Hazel locked on dark brown, he smiled and gestured to the empty seat next to him. She took a deep breath, probably meant to be bracing but it drew his attention back to her chest, and then she joined him at the table, sitting gingerly on the edge of the seat he had indicated.
“Touch me,” he said when it looked like she was about to say something, reaching out and laying his hand, palm up, on the table in front of her.
Rogue stared first at his hand and then into his eyes as if he was crazy. Maybe he was, but this was probably the easiest way to push her into practicing her control that he could think of. Since last night her control was a very important concern for him, so Logan kept his hand stretched out to her. After a few moments she set down her apple and pulled off one black glove, one finger at a time. He monitored her breathing, heard how the rhythm slowed as she prepared herself, and gave her a reassuring look. Her bare hand hovered over his; her fingertips almost brushed his skin several times before she settled her hand on top of his.
When Rogue’s skin touched his, for the first time he was able to concentrate only on that sensation. There was no fear, for him—been there, done that—or her, no panic, no desperation. As her fingers rested on his skin for one second, ten, twenty, the only thing he felt was an incredible sense of intimacy mixed with an understandable stab of lust, all fueled by her soft, smooth skin. He desperately wanted to know if the rest of her felt like this, but just when he was about to close his fingers around hers and draw her closer, not even half a minute after she started touching him, he felt the beginning of her mutation’s pull. Rogue jerked her hand away, but her mutation hadn’t packed its usual whammy and all he felt was a little lightheadedness.
While Rogue sat staring at her bare hand, fingers curled in defensively, Logan tried to figure out from her expression what she was thinking. Usually she was an open book, at least to him, but now he just couldn’t figure it out. He could only leave his hand on the table and look at her, willing her to meet his eyes again.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
So this probably should have been a continuation of the last chapter, but here it is on its own anyway. Maybe later I'll change it.
Chapter End Notes:
I'll try to add more in the next week or so, but I have a lot of irons in the fire and should probably get to my other stories. This one might get higher priority depending on how much you guys liked it... ;-)