Pursuit

by Chance, Lynda

  He lost not a second, and with his hands gripping her knees, he shoved them apart and moved between them.

  The light was bright, almost glaring and now, as he looked down between them, Lauren was spread wide and vulnerable to him.

  He began to growl low in his throat like a wounded animal, his expression a glowering mask of fury. His hands left her knees long enough to adjust his fly and release his engorged erection. Immediately, he began pushing in, and Lauren suddenly felt both weak and powerful all at once.

  He was so aggressive in his masculinity, that she was powerless as his body towered over hers and dominated her as he filled her where she was open to him. But it was good because now she knew how he really felt about the possibility of her leaving.

  She had the answer she needed, and she set out to soothe him at once. “Logan,” she began, but he cut her off by swiping her wrist again and swiveling her arm until he held it twisted behind her back in a clasp that she couldn’t possibly get away from.

  Sheer, unmitigated sexual excitement coursed down her spine and landed in a heated rush between her thighs. Oh, God, yes … this was new. Another onslaught of dampness eased his way, and he surged all the way inside with a grunt and held there.

  Lauren was well and truly captured. He held her pinned to the vanity with his shaft that impaled her, and her arm in a vise behind her back. He wasn’t hurting her, but she couldn’t have gotten away, even if she’d wanted to.

  Right.

  Like that would ever happen.

  She tried again to ease his torment. “Logan.”

  “Don’t start. I don’t want to hear it. You’re not leaving.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said softly.

  He picked his head up and narrowed his eyes on hers. “You said you were going to Los Angeles.”

  She read torture and confusion in his eyes, and knew without a doubt that her home was with him now. She held his eyes and shook her head, her hair spilling around her shoulders. “No, I didn’t say that. They offered me a job, that’s all.”

  Relief, in its most basic form, spread across his countenance. “You’re not going?”

  Their gazes held and a hot, sweet ache began to pulse between her legs. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”

  For an answer, he growled again and pulled out and then slammed back inside. Lauren caught her breath. His head fell to her shoulder and he began pumping, in and out, his thrusts both aggressive and territorial.

  Lauren began splintering around him but had enough snap to try again. “You don’t want me to go, do you, Logan?”

  His hands clenched around her with uncompromising strength. “You’re staying here,” he answered with commanding arrogance.

  His possessive answer sent her into a tailspin and she felt her muscles clasp around him and begin to milk him. The feeling was electric. Amazing and electric and she knew she was about to come undone in his arms. He started to groan his pleasure in a spiral of grunts as he jerked and throbbed inside of her, but with a flash of panic and realization, Lauren pushed against him. “You didn’t put on a condom.”

  His nostrils flared, a primal look appearing on his face. It became apparent that it was too late to worry about anything anymore, and Lauren let go. She saw stars as a feeling of contentment engulfed her. He released her arm and she immediately wrapped her arms behind his neck and held on. She felt him pull out and then just as quickly slip two fingers inside of her, and they strained against each other, coming together as a hot rush of liquid landed on her stomach. She rode the last waves of her orgasm, and then took a deep breath and relaxed against him, the feeling of euphoria she always felt with him stronger than ever before.

  The strength left her limbs and she felt his magnificent hold grasp her tightly to him. She let out a breath. “I love you,” she said simply.

  And waited.

  She felt his muscles relax for half a second but then, in a rush of motion, he opened the door, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, where he dropped her to the center of the bed.

  She scrambled to her knees, wearing only her bra, and watched as he began slowly and methodically taking his clothes off, his hot gaze never leaving hers.

  ****

  The primal fear and rage that had been boiling in Logan’s system not ten minutes ago was only now slowly receding. When he’d heard ‘Los Angeles’ come from her lips, he thought his world was about to split apart at the seams.

  He thought maybe he’d gone a little crazy. Getting inside of her and capturing her in his arms had helped somewhat, but it wasn’t until he’d heard her say that she wasn’t going, had he returned to sanity.

  But maybe he wasn’t quite there yet.

  He’d come, true, barely having enough time to pull out before he exploded in heated bliss. But it hadn’t been enough. He was still primed, still ready. Dropping his boots, jeans and underwear to the floor, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and took it to her, dropping it to her stomach and swiping it across her belly, but that was all the time he could give to something as inconsequential to him as cleaning her up.

  They’d have time to clean up later.

  Her eyes were big and round as she stared at him. “Are you going to get a condom this time?”

  “Do you want me to?” he asked as calmly as he could manage.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He didn’t answer her, just opened the drawer and with economical movements, slid a condom over his erection.

  He turned back and mounted the bed, pushing her down and coming over her on all fours. “If you weren’t going to leave, why did you even bother to tell me? You had to know how I would react.”

  She began shaking her head. “No, I wasn’t completely sure. I needed to know … I need to know that you want me here with you. If you don’t, if you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you, then you need to tell me now. I can’t turn down this job offer lightly. This would be a career move that—”

  At her words, Logan began to feel his brain separate from his body again and he cut off her words by lowering himself until his face was in hers. He’d been so fucking close. So fucking close to pulling it together and acting human again. But then she’d opened her mouth and said more shit that was causing a fire in his guts and a burning sensation in the region of his heart. “Shut up, Lauren.”

  “What?”

  “Just shut the fuck up. I already told you. You’re not going anywhere. Don’t talk to me about job offers and career moves. Are you trying to drive me out of my mind? Is that what you want?”

  She stared at him, obviously shocked, and took a quick intake of breath. “No.”

  “Then what do you want?” he demanded to know.

  “I want you to tell me that you want me to stay here with you. To stay here because of you.”

  He pushed the hair back from her forehead and took a deep breath. He slid his hand down and lifted her leg over his arm and opened her to him in a way that he found himself dreaming about, day and night. He slid inside her hot sheath and momentarily closed his eyes as a feeling of peace almost overwhelmed him. Lifting up, he stared down into her eyes. “Lauren.”

  He could see the pulse beat in her neck. “Yes?”

  He paused and then said firmly and once and for all, “I want you to stay here with me. I want you to stay here with me and turn down the job. I want you to do that because of what you and I have together.” He studied the purity in her upturned face. “Is that clear enough for you?”

  An expression crossed her face that caused a stab of satisfaction to slide through his guts and then she nodded her head before her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around him as she welcomed him into her body.

  He slowly let the tension recede but found his grip on her just a little tighter than he usually allowed it to be.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, Lauren came from the shower and Logan was fully clothed and putting his boots back on. “You still w
ant to go out to eat?” he asked, his voice seeming deeper than usual.

  She held the towel around her and nodded her head.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  As she walked toward him, she felt the coil of heat that she knew she should be getting used to by now. He was sitting, fully clothed, on the bench at the foot of the bed with his legs spread apart. She came between them and raised her eyes in question.

  He held out his hand to her. “Let me see your wrist.”

  She was momentarily puzzled but then remembered she’d told him earlier that he’d been hurting her. There was no use in arguing that she was okay, he’d want to make sure for himself. She lifted her arm and placed it in his open palm.

  As she already knew, there would be no mark from his hands left on her body. The only marks he left on her were either accidental from his whiskers abrading her, or purple bruises that he sometimes scattered across her breasts. He never used his strength in a way that wasn’t always controlled. And while his earlier grasp had been a little too tight, it wasn’t anything that he should be worried about now.

  His fingers ran over her skin lightly, almost in reverence, and Lauren’s heart turned over at the gentle touch. “Does it still hurt?”

  “No. It’s fine,” she answered lightly.

  He lifted his hand to her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay.”

  His gaze was intent, as if he were trying to learn her secrets. “Are you sure?”

  She didn’t have any secrets. He owned them all. “Yes.”

  “You know I’d never mean to hurt you, right?”

  She held his eyes and something hot and intense passed between them. “I know.”

  “And you have to always tell me if I’m too rough,” he said, his fingers swirling over her wrist.

  She smiled softly in acknowledgement. “I will.”

  “You promise?”

  The tenderness in his gaze was almost her undoing. “Yes.”

  His hand slid down and patted her on the butt. “Go get ready. I’m starving.

  Chapter Ten

  Another two months slid by, and to Lauren’s way of thinking, Logan should have asked her to marry him by now. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was getting a little antsy. It was crazy, she knew, but she needed something from him.

  He hadn’t told her he loved her yet, and she hadn’t pushed it.

  But it was making her antsy.

  The way she saw it, she was giving him what he wanted. She repeatedly told him she loved him, both because it sometimes slipped out of her mouth and because she knew he wanted to hear it.

  She’d even tried to go a few days without saying it, but that had backfired on her every time she’d tried it. He’d get her naked in bed, get her crazy-assed steamed up until she couldn’t think straight, and then he’d punish her by holding back until she was forced to say it.

  And that was starting to irritate the hell out of her.

  Why should he continue to hear an affirmation of her love, over and over again, and yet she never received the same words in return? It had been okay in the beginning, but now, this far into the relationship, she needed something from him, and the feeling wasn’t going away.

  It almost felt as if she was the one who was doing all the giving. And Lauren was smart enough to know that what she was feeling could turn into a dangerous emotion. She realized that this was one of the ‘dangers in a relationship’ that one read about in magazine articles and relationship books.

  It had a simple name. Not communicating.

  If two people failed to communicate in a relationship, then it was doomed.

  But she was a little bit stubborn; she didn’t want to be the one who instigated the ‘communication’. At least, not now, not this time, not before they’d committed to each other one hundred percent. She took a determined breath and promised herself, faithfully, that once they were married, she’d step up to the plate and never let miscommunication of any kind cause hurt feelings between them.

  Because in that moment, she admitted that her feelings were hurt.

  She was only human, and female on top of it, and by God, she either wanted him to say the damn words or she wanted a marriage proposal. Preferably both. Post-haste.

  Like now.

  A queasy feeling roiled through her stomach as she continued to obsess about it. She’d also read in those same kinds of relationship articles that the majority of happily married women had ‘forced’ their men to commit.

  Lauren immediately thought about the strong bond that her parents shared and the unquestionable love between them, even after thirty years of marriage. And she thought about the stories her mother jokingly told.

  She and her mother had always had a close relationship, and even though they were indisputably mother and daughter, as Lauren had achieved adulthood and went off to college, that relationship had turned into the best kind of friendship, as well. And now, her mother’s amused words were ringing in Lauren’s ears. Your father would never have wanted to tie the knot. And really, why would he have? We’d been together for so long by that point, and I was doing everything for him. I was cooking his meals, cleaning his house, washing his clothes. And silly me, by that time I was sleeping in his bed, as well. So why would he have wanted to get married when he already had every advantage that marriage could bring?

  Lauren remembered the day her mother had spilled those beans with a smile. Her very Catholic mother admitting she’d been sleeping with her father sans wedding vows. At the time, Lauren had gulped down her shock and asked her mom how she’d managed to get a proposal. Her mother had taken a sip of wine and given Lauren a sly, calculating look. Oh, it was ridiculously easy. I told him I wanted to get married, but he told me he wasn’t ready to get married yet. So I told him that he could do his own laundry until we went to see the priest. He did his laundry one time and the very next week, we went to see the priest.

  With that conversation striking an internal chord, Lauren wondered whether Logan was of the same mind as her father had been all those years ago. Had Lauren made it too easy for him? Did Logan have everything he wanted from her now and had no plans to commit? Had she been reading him wrong all along?

  She hadn’t read everything wrong. She knew he loved her.

  Didn’t she?

  Crap. She was going to drive herself crazy thinking about this.

  Something had to give.

  Because now she was in a huge quandary. Her apartment lease was up for renewal in a couple of weeks, and she had no idea what to do about it. She didn’t want to flat-out ask Logan what she should do, and she didn’t want to casually mention it, as in a hint, because that was the same damn thing as flat-out asking him.

  If she asked him, that would feel like pushing to her.

  And she didn’t want to have to push him. Not for everything.

  Not this time.

  If the butthole would just tell her that he loved her.

  She exhaled raggedly in aggravation.

  What the hell should she do about her apartment?

  She was twenty-five, that was true. She was grown. She shouldn’t care what her parents thought. But she did. And if she gave up her apartment, which she was sure Logan would want her to do, her parents would eventually find out that she was living with him, and they’d probably find out sooner rather than later.

  And no matter how open-minded her mother seemed to be at times, it would cause her a lot of worry. And Lauren’s father. Crap. Double standards and all that. Lauren was still and always would be, her father’s little girl.

  It might not break their hearts, but her mother would obsess and worry and her father wouldn’t care for it at all. So Lauren had about another week, at best, before something had to give.

  She just prayed like hell that she hadn’t been reading Logan wrong. If it turned out that he didn’t care for her the same way she cared for him … no. That was crazy.

/>   She wasn’t even going to go there.

  ****

  Logan closed his laptop and rose to his feet and stretched his stiff muscles. He couldn’t concentrate for shit. Something was up with Lauren and it was about to drive him insane. For the last few days she’d been uncommunicative, almost despondent. A sorrow seemed to be constantly weighing her down.

  She went to work and then she came home, but the animation seemed to have left her features.

  He gnashed his fist to his teeth in frustration. He had no idea what was wrong with her, but something was, and it was scaring the fucking shit out of him.

  She seemed to be going through the motions of her day as if by rote. She still slept with him every night, she still opened herself to him and shared her body with him, she still clung to him the same as she always had, almost joyfully … certainly generously.

  But there was a difference.

  And that difference was slowly driving him insane as the days wore on.

  She was mostly silent as they made love. She was swallowing and holding inside the small moans and soft noises that always drove him insane with lust. She was holding her emotions in check, and only under duress would she utter those three little words that he craved.

  Something was wrong with her. Was she trying to slow the relationship down? Was she even questioning her love for him?

  She had to be.

  And why shouldn’t she be?

  He was moving too fucking fast for her; he had been from the very beginning. He’d maneuvered her into going out with him, he’d seduced her into sleeping with him, and he’d railroaded her into a relationship with him.

  Fear, stark and vivid, slid down his spine and coalesced in a burning ache in the pit of his stomach. What the hell was he going to do?

  What could he do to make it go back to the way it had been six weeks ago or so when his world was just about as damn perfect as he could have wanted it to be? It had been perfect, except for the minor detail of finessing her into marriage.

  Minor detail, his ass.

  He’d been working on that. He’d been strategically analyzing his plan. He’d been biding his time, holding back until he knew she’d want to give in to him. Because if he moved too quickly … if she didn’t want to marry him … well, that scenario scared him shitless.