I was almost free when he snapped, “Gabrielle.”
I froze. Even as a near graduate, he still frightened me.
“Don’t be so weak,” he muttered.
“I’m not weak,” I shot back.
He looked at me like he had when I was younger and disobeyed him, like when he’d whipped me with his belt—the same belt that was now at his ankles—and in that moment I was weak. However, his words were nothing like the “you will be obedient” speech I’d received with each lashing. No, his slurred words cut deeper than that belt ever had. “You might want to stay and watch to learn a few things from a pro. Being good at sex is the only thing you’re going to have to offer a man.”
Sex. His whole being seemed to be about sex. I hated him. I hated my sister for being weak and leaving me with him. And in that moment, I hated my mother for letting it go on so long. Why wasn’t she stronger?
And what was it about sex that turned him into the monster he was?
With nowhere to go, I ran to one of the gyms on base where I’d been training with a number of new recruits. In the years since my mother’s death, I was determined to be strong. Stronger than my sister or my mother ever were.
Strength wasn’t only physical—I knew that. But I also knew it would protect me. And I needed something to protect me.
The place was open twenty-four/seven and I knew someone would be there who’d want me. That night I picked a man and gave myself to him. It hurt, physically and emotionally, but it was quick. When it was done, I felt more lost than I had before—it meant nothing. I felt nothing. Sex really was meaningless.
Logan’s breath blew warm across my shoulder, and I made myself push that dark and tainted memory from my mind. With him everything felt different. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe, just maybe, sex could be meaningful. Maybe I had been going at it the wrong way this whole time. I had been looking for what it was that turned my father into the man he was instead of allowing myself to figure out what I needed from the act itself.
And with Logan I knew what it was. I wanted to give myself to him and in turn to feel what it was like for someone to give himself to me. We might have just met, we might only be fucking, but we were both pouring ourselves into what we were doing.
Together, we moved with wild abandon; we gave freely to each other. It was the give and take that mattered the most and I loved every minute of it.
Beating hearts with pulling and pushing bodies and ragged breathing was what we were, and I relished in it.
His desire-laced voice whispered, “Let go.”
By the time those two words traveled and his breath blew hot against my skin as his mouth sought out my ear, I was already tipping, ready to free-fall into the pleasure that was building within me. My pulse pounded. My heart beat rapidly. His words pushed me over the edge rather than forcing me to retreat. I even had to bite my lip to stop the passionate cry I felt in my throat.
In an unexpected move, his bare chest met my bare back and he reached for my hands, intertwining our fingers and pulling our connected hands toward our connected bodies. The tenderness of the moment was too much and I couldn’t stop the strangled cry I’d been holding back.
With my eyes squeezed tightly shut, my body took over and I could do nothing but feel. With all thoughts destroyed, I absorbed the delicious fullness of having him inside me. Without warning, an unexpected sensation overtook me. And it didn’t pass. Each joyous beat of my climax drove that glorious feeling of having him inside me higher and higher until I was soaring in ecstasy.
Logan’s thrusts slowed as soon as my pussy began to tighten around his cock. His fingers squeezed mine when his body stilled. His grunting sigh echoed beautifully in my ear as he, too, experienced what we both obviously needed—a release.
He dropped his head into the crook of my neck and for a few minutes, we stayed that way—me cocooned in his warm body bent over the table. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I turned around. Would he run like he had last night?
Once I caught my breath and my legs stopped shaking, I shifted my stance. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I knew it had to. Logan pulled out of me and I turned around. Perhaps conveniently, perhaps not, he twisted to take care of the condom.
I leaned against the table and watched him. I thought about gathering my clothes. I should have been embarrassed standing there naked, but I wasn’t.
He wrapped the very used condom in a napkin and tossed it in the trash can near the bar. Focusing on the task at hand, he slipped into his boxers and started to gather the rest of our clothes. I should have helped him, but something kept me glued to where I stood. I thought now that the act of intimacy was complete and the tension between us eased, he’d just toss me mine.
Imagine my surprise when he crossed the room. That tension that I thought was gone was stronger than ever. We both felt it. I know we did. The draw to touch other, the need to feel each other, to somehow know each other, was stronger than ever. Denying it would be futile.
With the same tenderness I’d felt from him earlier, Logan tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and then shocked me by looking into my eyes. I didn’t know what I saw in this, but I wanted to know.
I opened my mouth to say something. What, I had no idea. Before I could, he broke our intense connection by lowering his lips to mine in a soft kiss. His lips lightly moved against mine. There was no tongue, no clashing of teeth, and still it made me shudder.
When he broke away, he handed me my clothes and started dressing himself. “I need to get to the boutique. I don’t want you to leave and go to O’Shea’s until I’m back. Okay?”
The room smelled of sex; we smelled of sex. We weren’t even fully dressed and he was leaving? I wasn’t needy by any means, but I felt a little disappointed. I stared at him as he shoved his legs through his pant legs. “Yes, of course. We’ll wait for you to get back.”
Pulling his shirt over his head, he paused before tugging it all the way down. “Are you all right?”
I snapped out of my daze and started dressing. Not really. I didn’t know what I was, but what else could I say? “Yes. I just feel ridiculous about this whole missing-garage-door-opener thing. I doubt it’s in my other purse. You’re probably wasting your time.”
He zipped up his sweatshirt and picked up his keys and mine. I thought he’d head toward the door, but instead he strode over to me. When he was standing right in front of me he said, “No, I’m not. Just because a few hours quietly passed doesn’t mean anything has changed. O’Shea is in a load of shit and there will be consequences if things don’t go the way Patrick wants them to go. That’s why we need to get ahead of this.” He put his hands on my upper arms. “You need to find out what O’Shea has promised to deliver.”
I nodded. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”
Seemingly satisfied with my response, his expression changed. Logan was now looking at me in a new and different way. It was that way men look at women when they know they have a hold on them—half boyish charm, half devilish mischief. “Then we’ll talk even later tonight.”
I got the look then.
And I was more than up to a late-night “chat.”
“I’d better go,” he said.
I nodded. “Wait,” I called.
He froze at the door.
Not certain what he thought I wanted, I tossed out, “Don’t you want your hat and sunglasses?”
“No, I’m good.”
And then he was gone—out the door without a single glance back.
Again, I felt disappointed.
What did I want from him?
Nothing, I told myself.
But I knew it was a lie.