Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(74)

Good. Because it was driving him mad. Had been for the past week.

Bront? was gazing up at him, her eyes shining with a look that seemed half expectant, half anxious. Her expression was so full of emotion that it was driving him wild . . . and tormenting him. There was hurt in her eyes—hurt that he’d put there. And a little bit of fear that she might get hurt again.

They needed to move past that moment. And he had an idea of how to do that.

He pulled the blindfold back out of his pocket again and offered it to her. “Do you trust me, Bront??”

Her eyes widened as she looked down at it, then up at him, realizing what was about to happen. “I . . . Logan . . .”

“You can say no,” he told her. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

She nodded, swallowing, and then her entire face seemed to flush red as she took the blindfold from his hand with trembling fingers and lifted it to her eyes. “Would you tie me?”

An innocent question, but it fired his blood. He moved behind her, taking the ends of the blindfold from her and tying them against the back of her head. She was standing there, stiff and wooden, so he leaned in and whispered huskily in her ear. “Too tight?”

She jumped, her elbow nearly slamming into his jaw. “N-no! It’s fine.” Her hands reached for him. “Just a little unnerving is all.” She turned and grasped his jacket in her hands and then gave it a small tug. “Should we go to my room?”

“I’ll lead the way,” he told her, and swept her into his arms, enjoying the muffled sound of surprise she made and the way she clung to him. Desire surged through him, mixing with triumph. He’d won her back. She was in his arms, and he was going to make love to her and show her that he’d never wavered.

His arms tightened around her possessively. Bront? was his again.

Good.

He pushed open the door to the other bedroom. Bront?’s room. There was a single twin bed in the corner of the room with a plain wrought iron headboard, and a small dresser that held a few mementos from their dates that week. A vase of flowers—flowers that he’d given her—sat in the windowsill. There were no pictures on the walls, and the entire room seemed barely lived in. The realization pleased him—she’d be back with him after tonight. His place felt empty and lonely without her.

Logan gently laid her on the bed and admired her, the curves of her body, the beauty of her face, the way the ends of her hair curled wildly. The way she bit her lip as she anticipated his touch. Carefully, almost reverently, he brushed his fingers down the length of one denim-clad leg and enjoyed seeing her shiver in response. He turned and shut the door to Bront?’s small room, just in case her roommate did show up again, and she jumped at the sound.

“Everything all right?” he asked her.

A nervous giggle was his answer. “I’m fine. Just . . . a little on edge.”

“That’s part of the appeal of having you like this,” Logan murmured. His hands went to one of her shoes and eased it off her foot, and he smiled at the way she wiggled her toes in response. “Watching your response as I touch you. Watching you anticipate my moves. All of it pleases me.”

“And are you hard?” she asked breathlessly.

He took her hand and placed it on his cock. That quick caress had him nearly groaning aloud at her touch. His c*ck felt like steel and ached with the need to bury itself into her, but he would pace himself.

Her fingers lightly glided along his shaft, exploring and feeling him. She licked her lips, the unconscious move making his c*ck jerk in her hand. “You’re so hard, Logan. So big in my hand.”

And she was so delicate under his. “Beautiful Bront?,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her lips.

She made a small noise of protest when he kept the kiss brief, automatically reaching for him again and stroking her hands down his cheeks. “I want you.”

“Let me play with you, Bront?. It would give me such pleasure.”

She shuddered at his words and nodded.

“First, I’d like to undress you,” he said in a low, seductive voice, intending to seduce her with words as well as touch. Her hands automatically moved to the waist of her jeans as if to help out, and he caught her hands in his. “Allow me.”

Her hands fluttered at her waist, as if uncertain, and then she dropped them to her sides. “Okay.”

Logan leaned in and pushed her sweater up, exposing an inch of skin above the waist of her jeans. He kissed the skin, enjoying her shiver of pleasure beneath him. “I plan on taking my time exploring you, love. You’re going to be begging for me to take you by the time I’m done with you.”

She sucked in a breath. At her sides, her hands clenched and then flexed, as if she didn’t know where to put them.

“Just relax,” he told her with a small grin, knowing that she’d never be able to.

“Oh, sure,” she said with a small laugh. “Easy for you to say.”

“It is,” he agreed, undoing the button of her jeans and then lowering the zipper with excruciating slowness. His c*ck throbbed at the sight of the sliver of pale blue satin exposed. His mouth lowered, and he nipped at her skin through the satin, enjoying her small jerk of response. “These are lovely.”

“My panties or my hips?” she teased.

“Both,” he teased back. He tugged the thick fabric of the jeans down her legs, tossing them aside and on the floor when he was done. Her socks went next, each one carefully removed with a light skimming of fingers over her flesh.