Huffing out a sigh, she closed her eyes and replayed the past twenty-four hours in her head, beginning with the conversation she’d overheard between Rinaldi and Cole DeMarco. Something hadn’t sat right with her, and it bothered her even more now. Why had Rinaldi come to Benediction when he knew he’d never get past the front door? And how had those agents known he would be there? It was possible they’d followed him or perhaps they’d placed a tracker on his vehicle, but her intuition told her there was a reason he’d shown up at Benediction as soon as he was released from prison.

If only she was back home, she would have access to her computer and she could investigate the story. She’d start with the FBI and find out which office and which division those agents worked for. She rolled onto her back again and interlaced the fingers of her hands together, over her chest. Eyes open again, she drew her knees up, pressing her feet into the bed. Were those agents even assigned to Rinaldi’s case? They must have been if they needed a legitimate reason to be at the scene of his murder.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, his voice startling her from her thoughts.

“I can’t get comfortable.”

He rested his head on his hand. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. It’s always like this.”

“When you sleep in a new bed? Or when you sleep with someone else?”

Not wanting to respond to that last loaded question, she kept it simple. “I don’t sleep.”

He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “What do you mean you don’t sleep? You slept in the car.”

She mirrored his action. “Right. That’s it. I got my two hours.”

“That’s all you get? Two hours?” he asked incredulously. “No one can survive like that.”

“It’s been that way for me since I left home.” Her old therapist said it was caused by guilt and the inability to feel safe outside the strict structure she’d grown up in. But Rachel called bullshit, figuring it was because she’d suddenly woken up for the first time in her life and didn’t want to miss out on all the possibilities. She quit going to therapy after that session.

“You’re telling me you’ve been running on two hours of sleep a night for more than ten years?”

Why did he care? Despite not sleeping much, she was physically and mentally healthy. Her doctor figured she’d sleep if she needed it, but two hours was enough for her. “Yes. It’s not a big deal.”

“Have you tried sleeping pills?”

“I’ve tried everything.” And she had. Not because it worried her to go without sleep, but because she wanted to be normal. “Nothing works.”

He shifted his legs and angled toward her. “What about sex? Does that help?”

She laughed, ignoring the tingles racing through her at Logan’s mere mention of sex. “I don’t know about you, but I like to be awake when I have sex.”

He nudged her with his foot. “I mean after, when you and your partner have exhausted each other from hours of hot and sweaty, mind-blowing, animalistic sex. After you’ve come.”

She let out a shuddered breath as she tried to visualize what animalistic sex would look like. Had she ever had that kind of sex? Not that she could recall, and let’s face it, that wasn’t something she was likely to forget. Whatever sex she did have never resulted in an orgasm. But she couldn’t blame the men. She was obviously one of those women who couldn’t come during sex.

“Rachel?” Logan edged closer. “I’m assuming you’re not a virgin.”

She laughed nervously. “Of course I’m not a virgin. I’m twenty-nine years old.”

“Then why the silence? If you’ve had sex . . . ” Stopping, he must have noticed her head hanging in mortification. “You’ve had an orgasm, right?”

She really didn’t want to discuss this with him. Or anyone. “I’ve had orgasms. They’re fine.”

“Fine? What the hell kind of orgasm are you having?” he said, sounding outraged.

She snapped up her head. “I’m guessing the same kind that everyone else has. I just don’t see the appeal. I mean, sure, it feels good for a minute or two, but it’s not worth getting sweaty over. Not that I make myself sweaty.”

“Yourself?” His voice cracked. “Don’t your partners give you orgasms?”

“You say that like it’s a crime that I can only come through masturbation. I’m not alone. One-third of women can’t come during sex. Eighty percent require clitoral in addition to vaginal stimulation while other—”

“No wonder you can’t sleep. Does that brain of yours ever stop?” He suddenly rolled out of bed and crossed the room. “I’ve got an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

She exhaled a loud breath. “Logan, we’re in the middle of nowhere with a couple of rogue agents who want us dead and your uncle, who probably has a shed filled with enough weapons to arm a small country, is down the hall. I have no choice but to trust you.”

“Great,” he said, flicking on the lights, giving her another view of Logan in nothing but his boxer briefs. This time, she didn’t bother averting her eyes, raking her gaze over the toned muscles of his abdomen and following the trail of hair down. “In that case, I’m going to blindfold, gag, and tie you up. And then I’m going to show you what a real orgasm feels like.”

Chapter Nine

HER HEART WAS beating so quickly she was sure it would fly out of her chest. Did Logan just offer to give her an orgasm? It was one thing to let him tie her up at Benediction, where things couldn’t go too far, but she couldn’t do it here. “Logan, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Too bad.” Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his back against the door, the muscles of his forearms rippling. “Because I think it’s a great one. Otherwise, you’ll just keep me up all night, and we both need to rest if we’re going to get ourselves out of this mess.”

She bunched the comforter in her hands. “So you’re taking one for the team and having sex with me to get some sleep?”

“Hell no.” He pushed off the door and stalked closer, heat banked in his eyes. “First of all, if I fucked you, I’d be doing it because I wanted to and not because I wanted to get some shut-eye. And second, the last thing we’d get was any sleep because if I fucked you, I’d do it hard and all night long. We don’t have that kind of time.”

All night long? The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller. “Then I’m confused. I thought you said you were going to give me an orgasm.”

Now beside her, he braced a hand on the wall over her head and leaned toward her, his scent doing wicked things to her insides. “There are other ways for me to do that for you.”

She couldn’t count the number of times a guy had thought he had a magic tongue, and she was tired of faking her orgasms to conserve a man’s ego. “It won’t work. I’ll get frustrated and you’ll get mad—”

He scowled, tilting up her chin with two of his fingers. “Has some guy made you think it was your fault he couldn’t make you come?”

Although only one of them had actually called her a frigid bitch to her face, they’d made it clear they’d done the same moves on other women with a 100 percent success rate. Most of them didn’t care so long as they got off. And she always got what she wanted too—information. “It is my fault. These guys, they knew what they were doing. A couple of them had a reputation for it, you know? So it had to be my fault. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Somber, he shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a strong woman. You require someone stronger than you who can shut off that brain of yours for a bit.”

Comprehension of what he was suggesting slammed into her. “Oh, God. You want me to submit to you.”

“I bet you always stay in control during sex. Am I right?”

What was wrong with that? She was the one who knew what felt good and how to move to get the right things stroked in the right way. “So you’re saying it is my fault they can’t make me come.”