Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(38)

A lot.

Especially sexually.

I loved it. I missed it when it was gone in a way that I craved it.

And there it was.

Oh...

Fuck.

“Then I’ll quit doin’ that,” he whispered, and went back in.

He quit doing that. His mouth on mine was hard, it was demanding, but it wasn’t painful.

It was coaxing.

Oh man.

“Logan,” I murmured against his lips, unable to stop it.

“And she gives it,” he muttered against mine, then swept his tongue into my mouth.

I tasted him and when I did, it hit me.

He wanted this. He’d come for it. No matter what it was for him, he’d found out where I lived and he’d come for it.

Teaching a lesson.

Playing a game.

It didn’t matter.

Because for me, outside those I gave myself, I’d had only one orgasm in twenty years and Logan had given it to me.

He was intent on giving me another one?

Fuck it.

I’d take it.

But this time, I’d go in knowing what this was.

He’d used me before.

I’d use him now.

There were worse ways to end a brilliant evening of delicious food, fine wine, and Britain’s classy version of soap opera.

Right?

My decision made, I slid my hands up to the sides of his neck, held on, and kissed him back.

He growled into my mouth and pressed me deeper into the wall.

I glided a hand up into his hair and pressed myself farther into his body.

He pulled my hair again so he’d broken the kiss and twisted my head to the side.

Lips to the skin right below my ear, his words caused shivers when he asked, “You want this?”

“You gonna give it?” I dared.

He nipped my earlobe with his teeth and right in my ear, he snarled, “Fuck yeah.”

“Then do it,” I challenged.

He righted my head, catching my eyes, his glittering with fury and heat.

“Bedroom,” he grunted.

“Last door at the end of the hall.”

He instantly let me go but grabbed my hand and I fought the bittersweet memories of the feel of his fingers around mine as he moved away and did it tugging me after him.

Like he’d been there before, the minute we entered my room, he flipped the light switch and the crystal-based lights on the nightstands on either side of my bed came on, casting an intimate glow to my bedroom.

This was not good.

The last time, heat of the moment, I didn’t even think of my body or, more importantly, what Logan would think of my body.

This time, I was turned on, I wanted this, but I was not out of my mind with want.

So I thought that my body was not twenty-one anymore. It was forty-one.

I had no idea how it had changed since then because I didn’t pay a lot of attention.

I just knew a single session of Pilates kicked its ass.

“Lights off,” I ordered as he kept tugging me, straight to my bed.

He pulled me around so we were facing each other, sides to the bed, and he shook his head.

“No, baby. I make you come, I’m gonna watch.”

Fuck.

“High—” I started but got no further.

He released my hand so he could catch me at the side of my neck and yank me to him.

I fell into his body as his mouth crashed back to mine.

And it was on.

I didn’t care about the lights anymore.

He wanted to see me?

Well, I wanted to see him.

All of him.

So I went after that, tugging his cut down his arms, then tearing at his clothes.

He copped feels, took bites, licked tastes as he let me at the same time he tore at mine.

We fell to the bed, him only in jeans, belt, and first two buttons on his fly undone, me in nothing but panties and a bra.

The second we hit mattress, I went after him.

God, I couldn’t get enough.

The feel of his chest hair against my lips, his nipples tightening against my tongue, the ridges of his abs contracting at my touch.

He had new tattoos, several of them, and I wanted to discover them in a variety of ways.

But at that moment, other things took precedence.

In no time, I needed more of those particular things and went for it, fingers to the final buttons of his fly.

“Fuck no,” he rumbled, his hand catching my wrist and my eyes flew to him. “This time I get to eat.”

Ripples shot over my thighs.

I wanted that.

But I needed what I was going after.

“Me first,” I returned.

“No way,” he shot back.

“Way,” I snapped.

He used his hand at my wrist to lift it, then when I locked my arm, he shoved it, successfully taking me to my back.

Before he could move over and pin me, I planted a foot in the bed and heaved, putting all my weight and strength into it, rolling him to his back with me on top.

He began to buck his powerful body to roll me again, something he’d achieve if I didn’t stop it, so I shot up, straddling him and clamping my thighs to his hips.

He angled up with me, catching both my wrists and rolling his hips, pushing up farther, until he made his knees.

“Fuck,” I hissed, grappling against his fingers wrapped around my wrists, catching his triumphant, hot-as-hell grin as he fell forward.