Scarlet Angel (Mindf*ck #3)(24)

“How long have you been standing there?!” Hadley demands, looking every bit as guilty as a killer herself.

“Long enough to hear a confession I don’t think I was meant to hear,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk as he looks at me with heat in his eyes.

Yeah, he totally missed the part where I’m a killer. I need to be more cautious.

“Confession?” Hadley asks, all the color draining from her face.

This girl could never be a killer.

“Yeah,” Logan says, his attention focused on me as he stalks forward.

“Logan, this isn’t what it looks like. She—”

Her words thankfully die when Logan grabs me at the waist and pulls me to him, crushing his lips to mine. I almost climb up him, making it easier to kiss him without so many tiptoes and bending getting involved. Hadley makes a strangled sound, and I kiss Logan harder to distract him from the leaky sink she is.

No wonder the Boogeyman duct taped her mouth shut.

“Right,” Hadley says as Logan continues kissing me. “I’ll just go now.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge her as he kisses me harder, pushing me back against the window that overlooks the city. My mouth stays fused to his, needing this so much after the week of little face-to-face time.

“I’ve fucking missed you,” he says against my lips, still kissing me stupid.

I can’t even respond, because he doesn’t let me break my mouth apart to reciprocate. Instead, he starts tugging my pants down, pushing me harder against the glass.

My fingers find their happy place, digging into his hair, and I shudder in anticipation when he shoves my pants to the floor. Roughly, he breaks the kiss to tear my shirt over my head, as though he’s in a hurry to get me as naked as possible.

“I missed you too,” I say while I have the chance, but he’s all serious, and that heated gaze could scorch a lesser prepared woman.

He strips out of his clothes as I toss away my bra and shimmy out of my underwear. In the time it takes me to do that, he’s fully naked and lifting me so fast my breath catches.

My back hits the glass, and my legs go around his shoulders. My eyes screw shut when he puts his face right where I want it, and he latches on to that bundle of nerves he knows how to manipulate too well.

He’s more aggressive than usual, almost as though he’s punishing me, taking no mercy on me when I whimper and squirm and try to make him bald with my hold on his hair.

My head falls back against the glass as I cry out, already lost in sensation from the masterful mouth he owns. He drops me to the ground in a smooth motion, and spins me to face the glass.

My palms shoot up, catching me before I slam into it, and he lifts my lower half, lining it up so he can thrust in forcefully.

It feels too good, and he bends, kissing my neck with just as much roughness as he’s taking my body. “You should have told me first,” he says, giving me insight as to why this feels like an incredible punishment fuck.

If these are the repercussions of disappointing him, I’ll never be good again.

It’d be nice if this is how he punishes me when or if he ever finds out who I really am.

I hope that day never comes. I’d rather not know what he chooses.

I push my hands harder against the window, and he keeps me lifted from behind so he can control every second of being inside me. He doesn’t stop until I’m crying out, and his hips thrust in hard one last time before he rocks in a slow circle, his breaths labored as he bends over, resting his forehead on my shoulder. He’s still holding me in place, and I grin against the window.

“I didn’t mean to tell Hadley,” I say, breathless and grinning. “She figured it out on her own.”

He leans forward, kissing my shoulder.

But he doesn’t say it back.

I’m not sure why that makes me feel a little self-conscious, but I try to ignore the seed of doubt that’s been planted.

“You can’t stay gone that long again. You’ve only been in town one day this week,” he says, kissing the column of my throat, running his hands over my body.

“If this is the reward I get, I may not be able to help myself,” I quip, smiling when he releases a rumble of laughter.

He pulls out of me and slaps my ass, and I turn just as he winks. “Get on something nice. I’m taking you out on a real date tonight.”

Grinning like a girl, I rush into the shower. But as soon as I step under the spray, Logan is climbing in with me, his lips finding mine as he pushes me against the wall.

“We can go out tomorrow,” I murmur against his lips, feeling him grin as he slides inside me again.

Just as he starts a steady rhythm, his lips break apart from mine, and he starts kissing his way to my ear.

“I love you too, Lana Myers,” he says so softly.

And in that moment, I’m completely his. There’s no revenge; there are no deaths staining my hands. I’m just a girl in love with a man who’s destined to hate me when he learns the truth.

And it’s devastatingly tragic; more so than any Shakespearian play ever was.





Chapter 10


Expectation is the root of all heartache.

—William Shakespeare



LOGAN



Lana is wrapped around me, sleeping peacefully, when my phone chimes with a series of rapid-fire texts.