Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(55)

Finally, he spoke: “What are you doing here?”

“Annie invited me.”

“And this seemed like a good idea?” He motioned to the room.

I shrugged. “Why not? You’re here.” My gaze flicked to Rachel. “She’s here. Why can’t I be here?”

Rachel turned her gaze to Logan, looking very interested in his answer.

“You’re not us,” he replied flatly.

This answer seemed to satisfy her. She turned an almost smug smile on me. If he wanted to widen the gap even further between us and firmly stick me in a box outside of the one he occupied with Rachel, he had just succeeded. A bitter ache filled my chest. I guess I deserved that. I had rejected him in front of Pepper and Reece. I couldn’t expect open arms from him tonight.

A muscle feathered along his jaw and he dug the blade deeper into my heart, saying, “This is my kind of place. Not yours. You’ve made it clear how different you and I are.” He angled his head as if searching his memory. “We’re not right . . . I think that’s what you said.” His gaze sharpened on me, his eyes glacier blue. “We can ask Reece if you don’t remember.”

I had said that. And now I was here at a kink club. Like that was right. What a hypocrite I was. That must be what he thought looking at me now. I couldn’t muster the truth though. Especially with Rachel watching. I couldn’t tell him I changed my mind. I couldn’t just admit that I was here because of him. For him. That I couldn’t leave him alone.

I tossed my head back and downed the rest of my wine, hating how my hand trembled. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

I held up my empty glass. “I need a refill, too.”

I turned my back on them and marched toward the bar, my spine ramrod-straight. A guy was there pouring wine. He grinned as I approached. “What can I get the pretty lady in blue? A refill? I can also make you a cocktail, if you’d like that.”

I opened my mouth but I didn’t have time to respond. Logan came up beside me. He plucked the glass from my fingers and set it down sharply. Seizing my hand, he turned and started walking me from the room, his footsteps biting hard into the floor.

His fingers laced with mine, and my breath hitched at his strong palm flush against my own. I could feel his pulse bleeding into me from this single contact.

My strides weren’t as long as his—largely due to my too-tight dress—and I had to hurry to keep pace. A strong sense of déjà vu washed over me. It was like the last time he marched me out of a kink club. Except this time every nerve ending in my body sparked and hummed with the knowledge of him. His hands, his mouth, his body moving over mine. Against me. In me.

I knew what it was like between us. There was no wondering about it. There was only longing that curled in the pit of my belly. A yearning anticipation that went bone-deep and quickened my breathing.

We cleared the threshold and he pulled me down the wide hall with all the expensive-looking art. I tugged my hand free from his and stopped, rubbing it against my thigh.

Our gazes clashed.

“You’re here because of me,” he accused. “Just f*cking admit it. Go ahead. Reece and Pepper aren’t here so there won’t be any embarrassment.”

That stung. Even if it was the truth. “There goes that arrogance again.”

“Better that than delusional.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

“I don’t know if you’re lying to yourself or me, Georgia. You’re not looking for some kink with a random guy here. The only reason you came back here is because you knew I might be here.” He inhaled a deep breath, lifting his broad chest, adding, “Because you miss me as much as I miss you.”

I floundered, unable to deny the truth of his words. But if I admitted that, I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t deny us anymore. “I meant what I said in my apartment. However badly it came out.” We weren’t right. This couldn’t go anywhere between us.

“But you’re here.” He inched closer a step, his deep voice taunting. “Damn frustrating, isn’t it?”

I inched back. “What?”

“Letting your head get in the way of what your heart wants . . . what your body needs.”

My back hit the hall wall. He stopped, keeping a thin space between our bodies. His hand covered my heart then, his palm curving over my breast. I inhaled, my breast rising to fill his palm. I wasn’t wearing a bra. The dress held me in so tightly I didn’t need one, and my nipple beaded almost painfully hard, thrusting up into his palm.

My gaze searched his face, the deep-set eyes, the hard jaw, and beautiful mouth. He held my gaze, his expression almost challenging.

How could he see so much? It’s like he understood me without me having to explain anything at all.

“You want me. You just have to stop living in your head so much. Listening to all the reasons why we can’t be together.” The hand that curved over my breast slid down my torso, molding itself to me, gliding over my rib cage, my hip.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t live under any expectations. Any rules. You don’t have—” I stopped abruptly, horror filling me at the insensitive words about to trip from my lips.

“A family?” he finished.

I shook my head, feverishly backpedaling. “No. You have a dad—”