Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(10)
She took a step closer to Logan, thinking about when he’d first come into the bar. His eyes had locked on hers, inciting fear, then desire.
“Thank you. There aren’t many places to hide in here.” She shifted her eyes to the bed, felt her cheeks flush at the pang of longing to be touched that gripped her, and turned away from Logan. She shouldn’t be thinking about lying on the bed beneath him, feeling him move inside of her, but wasn’t that a normal thing for a girl to think around someone who looked like him and acted so nice? Kutcher had slithered into her psyche and coated the most normal thoughts with guilt and fear.
“Hey, you okay?” He came up behind her, so close she’d bump into him if she moved. Warm hands touched her arms, and she closed her eyes, fighting images of Kutcher doing that exact same thing, then slamming her into a wall. In an instant, anger reared up inside her again.
Logan’s hand slid down her arm as he came around and faced her. “Your whole body just went rigid. Did I hurt you?”
As Stella shook her head, she realized that while she’d been fantasizing about Logan, her pain had subsided. “No.”
“Why did you flinch?”
He was so close she saw every sliver of whisker along his jaw.
“Did I scare you?” His voice slid over her skin, warming her all over.
“No. You didn’t scare me. I’m just mad.” She didn’t know where the confession had come from, but it opened a door inside her and her breaths came faster, harder. His eyes were seductive, and she wanted to see them staring down at her while he was buried deep inside her, taking away her pain and fear and filling her with pleasure.
“I’m sick of being afraid.” She turned away to distract herself from the lust coiling down low in her belly. “I’m tired of measuring every thought. Every move.”
“Stormy…” He came up behind her again. The air around them blazed with heat. “That’s not your real name—we both know that.”
She took a step away, half expecting Logan to grab her arm and spin her around, the way Kutcher would have. But he didn’t. He pinned her with an empathetic look from a few feet away, and she felt her armor start to crack.
She’d just been attacked. She should be more fearful, afraid to climb out from under all that armor and let go, but she felt just the opposite. She was sick and tired of the weight of running. She wanted to reclaim her life, her body, her mind.
She was powerless to stop the truth from spilling out. “I want to walk down the street without my heart hammering and my nerves on fire.” Her arms swept through the hall as she paced, breathing like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I can’t even use my real name. I want to be able to go home and visit my mother without worrying that some psycho is going to attack and kill me.”
“Why can’t you do those things?” His tone was tender, yet serious.
She scoffed and closed the distance between them, drawn to the caring look in his eyes, the way his hands had unclenched and reached for her. “All I want is to be a regular girl.” She took a step back, battling her desires. He took a step closer. Her chest rose and fell with each angry breath, nearly grazing his. She wanted that contact, wanted to feel her breasts pressed against his strong chest.
“You know the worst part about all of this?”
“Tell me why you can’t do those things, and I’ll figure out the worst part.” His eyes went nearly black as his hands skimmed her arms again, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Ugh!” She tried to walk away, and he held her still with little more than a touch of his fingertips. She didn’t want to get away.
“Tell me. I’ll help.” He was dead serious.
“You can’t help. No one can help. I’ll never be normal again. I’ll never be able to do any of those things, or walk down the street without fear, or f*ck any goddamn guy I want without worrying about being killed.”
His eyes searched hers. “I’m not going to kill you. But I’m willing to help with all those things, and God knows I’ll happily f*ck you until you can’t remember your name.”
His potent virility made the room feel smaller, hotter. Her limbs trembled, and tears stung her eyes, which only pissed her off even more. She lifted her chin in challenge.
“Is that what you want, Stormy? You want me to take you right here? To spread your legs wide, lick your * until you come over and over again, then stick my hard cock inside you and f*ck you until you forget everything else in the world? Because I promise you, Stormy Knight, you’ll not only forget how to think, but you’ll be so sore tomorrow that every step you take will remind you of me filling you so completely that you’ll crave more.”
His eyes dropped from her face, to her neck, to her breasts, lazily appraising her with a maddening hint of arrogance that made her desire spike. She was already wet with need, and when he cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her taut nipple, she lost any sense of right and wrong and gave in to the smoldering flames between them.
“God, yes—”
It came out in one long breath, which he captured in his mouth as he sealed his lips over hers, his tongue thrusting deep and hard as he claimed her. His hands were on fire as he tore at her shirt and threw it to the floor. She was too ready, too greedy, couldn’t wait to see the muscles that had saved her, that had protectively stalked her apartment. She grabbed both sides of his shirt and ripped with all her might. Buttons scattered. Logan laughed, a guttural, lustful laugh as he kissed a path down her neck and grazed his teeth over her collarbone and ground his hard length against her. She gave in to the need that had been buried for months and fumbled with the buttons on her jeans while he tore her bra from her body and took one of her breasts in his mouth. Forget the jeans, she buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her as he sucked and licked and tortured her hard nipple, sending heated anticipation between her legs.