Stay With Me(6)

“Looking for you,” he said darkly. “Now come on. Let’s go back to the room.”

“You should get your own,” she said quietly.

He stared at her, his eyes blazing, and she looked away, swallowing the urge to run. He reached out, his fingers stroking over her wrist before curling around her palm.

“Come back to our room, Catherine. We’ve come a long way to find you. The least you can do is talk to us.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her nose burned from the effort of holding them back. “Talk? Now you want to talk? After months—years—of ignoring me, now you want to talk?”

She shook from head to toe, and she was fast losing the tenuous grip she had on her emotions.

“Come back with me.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a command. To her dismay, she started forward, allowing him to lead her down the beach toward the hotel.

His fingers remained tightly wrapped around her hand as if he feared she’d flee.

Through the crowd of dancers, up the steps to the veranda and past the live band. Into the cool interior of the hotel, down the hallway to the elevator. They walked, silently.

He pulled her into the elevator, pushed the button for the top floor then curled his arms around her, molding her back to his chest.

She closed her eyes, trembling in his arms. How long had it been since he’d held her? Touched her intimately? Looked at her like he’d done on the beach, like she was the only woman in the world, a woman he wanted badly.

His lips burrowed into her hair, nuzzling the back of her neck. A prickle of desire skittered down her spine. She craved him, needed him. God, she needed him.

She leaned back into him, cursing her weakness but loving the solid security she felt in his arms.

“Where did you get this outfit?” he murmured against her ear.

The elevator opened, and he curled a hand around her wrist once more, tugging her into the hallway.

“I bought it for our vacation,” she said through tight lips.

He fumbled in his pocket as they neared the suite and pulled out the room card. He jammed the card into the slot and shoved the door open.

A blast of cool air raised goose bumps on her exposed skin, and she rubbed her arms as they walked further into the room.

His and Rhys’ luggage was thrown carelessly on the floor as if they’d dumped it and left just as quickly. In their search for her? Her gaze slid sideways, gauging his mood.

He was looking intently at her even as he loosened his shirt and began pulling at his pants.

“What are you doing?” she asked faintly, heat surging to her cheeks.

The door opened and Rhys swept in, looking as haggard as Logan did. When his gaze alighted on her, relief poured over his face, lightening his green eyes.

“Cat, thank God,” he whispered as he walked toward her.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, his chest heaving against her. She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go. When he did finally relinquish her, it was only to tilt her head back and capture her lips in a demanding kiss.

Anger, need, sadness, passion. Love. It was too much. She yanked away, emotion nearly choking her. She turned, not wanting either man to see how upset, how indecisive, she was.

“Cat,” Rhys said in his husky voice. “Look at me.”

She shook her head and focused her watery stare at the opposite wall.

Logan reached out and touched her cheek, brushing at the trail of moisture. “Don’t cry, Catherine. Please don’t cry. Let us love you. Give us tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow—I swear it.”

She shook off his touch, immediately feeling bereft of the warmth of his fingers. She backed away, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

“I don’t want you here,” she said in a shaky voice.

As she spoke, she lifted her chin and stared first at Rhys and then over at Logan. Hurt briefly flickered across Rhys’ face, but Logan’s dark eyes were unreadable.

“You don’t want to be here, so why are you?” she challenged as anger bubbled free. She had to swallow and breathe deeply through her nose. The urge to scream at them, to make them bleed as she’d bled, was strong.

“Because you’re here,” Logan said quietly. “And you belong with us.”

She couldn’t control the flood of hurt as she yanked her gaze up to his. He actually flinched, and guilt crept into his expression.

Strong hands curled over her bare shoulders. Rhys moved in from behind, his lips pressing against the curve of her neck. Logan reached for her hand, and she pulled it away.

He ignored her rejection and closed the distance between them, reaching around to retrieve the hand she’d hidden behind her back.

Without saying another word, he tugged her away from Rhys and led her into the bedroom. His finger slid up her spine, eliciting a delicate shiver. He stopped when he reached the thin tie of her top. With a tug, the scrap of material fell away, baring her br**sts.

The finger wandered back down her spine until it reached the small of her back. Then his hand caressed the bare skin of her bottom, cupping and kneading one cheek, then the other. He pulled the G-string from the cleft of her ass, running his finger down the length.

With a quick yank, he broke the strap and let the material fall down her legs.

“Logan, I don’t think—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh.”