Soft words and louder groans told me how much he liked it and I kept going. I wasn’t going to stop until all his pain was overtaken by pleasure.
When I sensed he was close, I asked him, “Do you want to come in my mouth or inside me?”
His hips thrust upward. “I want to come inside you,” he whispered, as if worried his words would trigger an adverse reaction.
They didn’t. This kind of dirty talk was how Logan connected with me, and it had become one way in which I connected with him too. Sure, we communicated outside of bed, but in this way I knew what he felt for me was exactly what I felt for him. Today we both needed this.
I sat up and pulled him up with me. “That’s good, because I need you to be inside me,” I whispered into the dark.
He had me on my back and was sliding his cock in me within moments of my words. “You’re so wet for me.”
I ran my nails down his back. “Only you.”
In and out.
His cock moved.
Slowly at first.
And that deep shock of connection only we shared was the first thing I felt followed by a sizzling awareness that there would never be another for me in my lifetime. Logan was it. He was the man perfectly made to fit me.
“You’re so tight. You feel so good,” he growled.
Feeling his body all over mine was what I needed. I let go of everything except making sure my hips met his over and over. His pace picked up steadily, yet still, it wasn’t too fast or too slow.
Flesh on flesh.
Frantic.
Grasping.
My moans couldn’t be contained. It felt way too good.
“You like that?” he asked.
“Yes. Don’t stop,” I pleaded and then, out of nowhere, trembling spasms of pleasure started to sweep over me. My fingers clutched his shoulders as the tremors kept coming.
Over and over, like electric shock waves that felt way to good for any one person to be able to enjoy.
Logan groaned at the slight gouge of my nails in his flesh.
I couldn’t help myself.
The sound only tipped me farther over the edge. My orgasm continued and my entire body started to shake.
He drove himself deeper, moved faster, and my pussy responded by clenching around his cock.
“Oh, God, Logan. Don’t stop.”
The sweet pleasure rippled through me again as he pounded harder, faster.
“Fuck!” he called in a shout that matched my cry, and I knew then that he, too, was coming. He murmured my name, over and over, a little louder each time.
Hearing it made me feel like my blood was singing.
Once we were both spent and gasping, he shifted his weight off me and rolled onto his side.
I turned to face him.
We stared at each other for at least five minutes.
My hand caressed his cheek. “Talk to me,” I said. “What are you thinking?”
He kissed my fingers, each of them, and held my hand tightly. “Do you trust me?”
There was only one answer to that question. “Yes.”
Without hesitation he gathered me close and breathed into my hair. “I don’t think Michael or his family are who you think they are.”
I didn’t miss that he called him Michael and not O’Shea, as if to soften the blow. “I know,” I whispered.
Logan shot up. “Did he do something to you?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him about Michael’s proposition. Not in the state of mind he was in right now, but I did tell him about Heidi and the note I’d found in her drawer.
“You need to stay away from him.”
I took his hand. “I can’t do that, Logan. I’m worried about Clementine.”
“Do you think he might hurt her?”
Panic started to creep into my soul. “No, not physically. But emotional scars can be just as devastating, and I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed that to happen. We have to find out what’s going on.”
“We will.”
“Do you promise?”
Logan gathered me close once again and brought us down to the pillow. “Whatever it takes.”
Whatever it takes, I repeated to myself, and then I leaned in to kiss him but found myself rubbing my face against the stubble on his jaw. I wanted to memorize every single thing about him. The angle of his jaw. His scent. The feel of his skin. His touch. The way his mouth curved at the corners. His lips. The things I’d struggled with trying to visualize exactly right the last two nights—I knew I’d never allow myself to forget again.
Whatever it takes.
DAY 33
LOGAN
The workday was over, but at the same time it was also just beginning.
I’d already removed my jacket and was loosening my tie when I pulled open the boutique door.
Elle was deep in concentration, sitting on the stool behind the cash register, counting the money in the drawer. She glanced over and held a finger up. “Would you turn the ‘closed’ sign around?”
I did as instructed and made my way across the wooden boards with slow, deliberate steps until I reached her. “I think you’ve forgotten something,” I whispered in her ear from behind.
She nudged me with her elbow. “Two hundred, one, two, three, four, three hundred.”
“Like a hello.”
I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was grinning.
The pull and surge of sexual tension was thicker than ever between us. Yesterday we’d made up for the time we’d lost over the weekend. We also probably had one of the most candid discussions about O’Shea we’d ever had. I thought she was finally on the same page as me when it came to the kind of man he really was. If she wasn’t yet, I was pretty certain she would be after tonight. We’d agreed we were both all in, which meant I wasn’t going to try to protect her from the cold, harsh truth, and the reverse was also true.
Tonight would be her first hands-on experience with the investigation that was already well under way. I was meeting with the guys and we were going to discuss what came next. I’d already told them about Blanchet and the acidifier. I also told them about what Elle had seen in O’Shea’s study. There was a very likely chance the missing drugs were in his possession, but we needed proof before Blanchet would make her move. There was also the issue of Clementine. Elle was worried about what would happen to her and asked that I wait before saying anything to Blanchet until she’d secured her role as Clementine’s guardian. That was a tall order, because who knew what he’d do? At the same time there was more to all of this, and waiting until we could figure it out wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. There was something bigger here—I just didn’t know what.
My patience wore thin as I waited for her to finish. My need for her attention seemed to mount with every passing second. Who the hell she had turned me into I didn’t know anymore, but at the same time I felt more alive than I’d ever felt in my life.
Dropping her off this morning to go into work wasn’t easy. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t ready for us to be apart. I drove her to the boutique since we had something to do after work. It made sense, and I really wanted to be with her as much as possible.
When I couldn’t wait any longer, I nipped at the soft skin of her neck. “I don’t like being ignored,” I growled.
Elle switched from the stack of twenties to the stack of tens, but I knew she was very aware of my presence because the wobble in her voice gave it away. “Five hundred, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy—”
Her stool was a red leather swivel one from Italy. The showroom had become populated with leather items similar in nature. She kept counting, but as soon as she set the pile of tens down, I snagged her wrist before she could pick up the fives and turned her toward me.
She swatted me across the ass. “Now I have to start over.”
“Hey now, don’t tease,” I warned.
Those emerald-green eyes almost gleamed when she looked at me. “Hi, you’re early.”
She was incredibly beautiful, and for a few moments I couldn’t believe she was mine. Long enough that I had to pull in a breath, because I’d forgotten to breathe. “I have a lot of making up to do,” I confessed, instantly turning the moment from flirty to serious.