by Kati Wilde
“Yes.”
“And your boss there said that you were damn good at it. That you picked it all up without a hitch. He said that if they’d hired you two or three years earlier, maybe they wouldn’t have had so many conflicts and delays that put them in the red and then put them under. So these past three weeks have been a walk in the park for you, haven’t they?”
I’m not sure if I should say yes. “It’s true that I have fewer responsibilities here.”
His eyes are piercing mine. “Do you like that?”
I don’t dislike it. But I could be more useful to this company than I am now. “I’d be happy to take on more, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It is.” All at once he seems to sit easier, as if a huge weight just dropped from his shoulders. “I started this company with wood in my hands, Emma, but all I’ve had in my hands the past ten years is paper. And I miss being in the shop. I miss it like hell. So maybe over the next six months or so, I could show you this side of the business, move you into this office—and hire someone else to answer phones.”
My chest is suddenly tight. “I’d like that,” I tell me.
“Me, too.” Expression satisfied, he looks around the office. “You taking over all this would be the best Christmas present anyone could ever give me. Aside from that mug.”
He gestures to the Worlds #1 Dad mug that never seems too far out of his reach.
I can’t stop my grin. “Did Logan get you that?”
“It was my Secret Santa gift last year. He never admitted that it was from him, but…”
Who else would give him a World’s #1 Dad mug? “Right.”
“He’s a thoughtful boy. Knows exactly what someone needs.” Bruce raises his brows and gives me a significant look. “Even if they don’t know it themselves.”
He couldn’t possibly know about the satin mask or how Logan pinned my hips to a wall and licked me to a screaming orgasm, but my face goes scarlet anyway. Because I definitely got what I needed.
A sharp knock at the door saves me, drawing Bruce’s attention. Before he even replies to the knock, the door swings open and Logan strides through, his pale blue gaze fixed on me, his voice a low growl. “Marianne said you were in here. Christ, I’ve missed you.”
My heart leaps into my throat, my gaze eating him up as he crosses the room with that long unhurried stride—and my ass is rooted to the spot. Bruce is sitting right here. Is Logan going to kiss me in front of him? Because he certainly looks as if he intends to.
Mildly my boss says, “Have I been missed?”
“Good to see you, too, Dad.” Gripping the arms of my chair in his big hands, Logan leans down and swiftly touches his lips to mine. Voice low and intimate, he asks me, “How you doing, baby?”
There’s apparently no point in hiding anything in front of his dad. Softly I reply, “Better now that you’re back.”
“Good to hear.” His gaze burns into mine. “How’s my dog?”
“Still indifferent to human life.”
“And my truck?”
“Also indifferent to human life.”
He grins and lightly kisses me again before turning to look at his father. “I think you’ve got guests in the front office.”
Expression amused, Bruce looks to me. “Well, let me make certain we’re through here first. I think we’ve settled everything. Haven’t we, Emma?”
Filled with so much happiness that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone said it was shining like a rainbow out of my eyes, I nod. “I think so.”
“Then you and Logan can discuss what kind of desk you want him to make after you move in here.” Eggnog in hand, Bruce rises to his feet. “I think if we rearrange this seating area and stick it over in that corner of the room, she’ll have a nice view out the window. Maybe you should take a few minutes and make some measurements, son, before joining the party.”
“I’ll do that.” Eyes slightly narrowed, Logan looks to me as his dad heads for the door. “You’re moving in here?”
Quietly I reply, “I think I’ve been promoted. Your dad says he wants to work in the shop again.”
That news seems to make Logan as happy as it made his dad, then the office door clicks shut, and in the next moment my face is in his hands and his mouth claiming my lips in a scorching kiss. My fingers tangle in his hair, and I softly moan when he lifts his head far too early.
“Shit.” He pulls me to my feet and kisses me again before stopping, holding my face close, his ragged breaths mingling with mine. “I’ll be walking around the party with my dick trying to bust out of my pants if I kiss you much more. So let’s go out there, mingle, and leave as soon as we can.”
“No arguments here,” I tell him.
“If you had any, I’d just throw you over my shoulder and carry you off, anyway. Which reminds me”—he steps back and pulls two envelopes out of his back pocket, one apparently his bonus and the other a red holiday envelope—“I stopped by the conference room when I was looking for you. This had your name on it.”
I take the red envelope. “My Secret Santa gift?”
“Yup.”
“This isn’t a pair of scented candles.”
“You don’t need those now that you’ve got a tree.” He gives the envelope seal an encouraging tap. “So let’s see what he ended up giving you.”
I arch a brow at him. “You don’t know?”
Grinning, he shakes his head. “Though I gave him a few ideas.”
Good ideas, apparently. I carefully break the envelope seal and withdraw a gift card, and my smile is huge when I turn it around to show him. “From that bookstore downtown.”
“Just right.” He looks as pleased by his dad’s choice as I am, then his gaze narrows on mine. “My gift wasn’t on the table yet.”
“Your Secret Santa is a slacker.” With a laugh, I tuck away the card again, then grip his shirt collar and pull him down for another kiss. Against his lips I say huskily, “But don’t worry. You won’t end the day disappointed. Maybe I’ve got a little present for you tonight.”
He grins against my mouth. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm. A virgin pussy all wrapped up and waiting to go under your big Christmas tree.”
Logan’s big body tenses against mine. Catching my face in his big hands, he draws back, his pale blue gaze searching my eyes. “I don’t want our first time to be like that, baby.”
“Not…like what? With a virgin pussy? Because it’s not going to get devirginized without you.”
“I don’t want it to be an exchange.”
“An exchange?” I blink up at him in confusion, mentally rewinding our conversation. Slowly I realize where he’s going with this, but I still can’t quite believe it. “You…think I’m giving you my virginity in lieu of a Secret Santa gift?”
“I don’t know,” he says hoarsely. “But I know you’re strapped for cash. I know you don’t like to owe anyone. And that you like to keep things even.”
Pain blooms through my chest. “I like money to be equal. Sex shouldn’t even enter into it.”
His jaw tightens, then on a heavy sigh he says, “You kissed me to keep things even when I brought the tree.”
The hurt blossoms into anger. Pointedly I stab my finger into his chest. “No,” I hiss at him, “you kissed me. I would have taken the tree as the gift it was. I was uncomfortable with the cost of it, sure. But you’re the one who suggested that I should make up the difference—and I didn’t think it was seriously a monetary repayment. I thought you kissed me because you wanted to kiss me.”
Logan’s face stills and I can see the realization sweep through his gaze. Because it all happened exactly as I just said. “I did do that.”
Yeah, he did. I lift my chin. “So why do you think I kissed you back? Do you really think it was repayment?”
“No.” Eyes closing, he drags his hands through his hair. “No, I don’t.”
“Good.” My throat’s raw, my eyes stinging. “Because if I was going r
epay people that way, I would have let someone at the electric company fuck me. Or I’d bang the guy at the auto shop. But I never thought of whoring myself out.” His face whitens and my voice breaks as soon as the word whoring leaves my tongue. “It’s great to know that you think I would.”
“Emma, baby, no.” Eyes tormented, his big hand catches mine.
“Don’t touch me!” I yank my hand from his grip, stumbling back. “I don’t want to touch you. Now that I know you think I’m trading myself for ten dollars instead of giving myself freely. God. If I’d said yes to your ring, would you think I was doing it for your house, your money?”
“No. Emma.” His face bleak, he comes after me. “What I said about an exchange, I fucked it all up, because that’s not what I meant. I swear to God, it’s not.”
Maybe he means that. I don’t know. I just know that I’m so angry and hurt that I’ve got to get out of here before I start bawling. Blinded by tears, I haul open the door, hitting a wall of Christmas music and chatter. The party. Oh god. I have to walk through that, holding my head high. Somehow.
Gentle hands circle my waist. “Emma, please.”
I hear the pain and apology in his voice, but I don’t look back. If I do I’ll just cry, and anger is the only thing that’s going to get me through this.
So instead of tears, a harsh laugh rips from me, and I say, “You know what the funny thing is? I didn’t even pick your name. So I’m going to take my cupcakes back from Shawn and let him pop my cherry instead, since apparently that’s what I’m giving up as my Secret Santa gift.”
Then I tear out of his embrace and slam the office door behind me.
8
Logan
My dad warned me. Christ, he warned me to be careful with her.
But I wasn’t—and this time I’m the reason all the sweet hope and joy vanished from her eyes, replaced by hurt and despair. I don’t wonder that a girl haunted him all these years. Emma’s naked pain and her tears are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
And if the rest of my life is what it takes, that’s how long I’ll spend making up for it.
But I don’t rush after her. Hurrying is how I fucked up. In my rush to understand her, to know her, I took one thing she told me about herself and applied it across the board, making assumptions I never should have.
Assumptions that I’d have realized were incredibly fucking stupid, if I’d taken one second to think about them. But I didn’t.
So I’m taking a second now. More than a second. Because when I go after her, I can’t fuck this up again.
My heart’s a heavy lump when I finally leave my dad’s office. Immediately I run into Marianne, who’s smiling and teary-eyed, the miniature nursery set in her hands.
“This is so wonderful, Logan.” She pulls me down to kiss my cheek. “Thank you.”
Throat tight, I only nod. My gaze is searching the front office for Emma.
“And here’s yours, honey.” Stopping by her desk—Emma’s desk now—she opens one of the file cabinet drawers and withdraws a wrapped box. She presses the gift into my hands. “I know it’s supposed to be secret, but I worried the context would be lost if you didn’t know who it was from, and you’d be thinking double-yew-tee-eff when you opened it.”
“Thank you,” I say in a thick voice.
Her gaze narrows. “You all right, honey?”
“Just looking for Emma.”
Her face softens. “Ah, well. She came through here in a rush a few minutes ago. So maybe she’s in the restroom?”
She’s not. She’s not in the kitchen, the conference room, or the reception area, either. I swing back by my dad’s office again, just to check, but she’s not there.
What the hell?
She didn’t drive off. Through the window in my dad’s office I can see my truck. It’s still out in the parking lot, covered in snow. She didn’t get a ride. No one’s left the party yet. She wouldn’t walk home through the snow. She’s angry and hurt, not foolish.
My gaze narrows on the shop across the lot. Maybe she’s there. It would be easy enough for her to grab the keys and hike across the lot.
Still carrying Marianne’s gift, I head outside. The Christmas music from inside the office is spilling out over the lot, so it takes me a moment to realize what else I’m hearing.
My truck’s engine. A faint trail of exhaust rises from the tailpipe. So she’s in there with the heater running, but hasn’t bothered to clear the snow from the windows. She’s not going anywhere. She’s just hiding. And I’ve got a good idea why.
She doesn’t want anyone to see her crying.
My heart aching, I stalk over to the truck and tap my fingers on the driver’s side window. A moment later I hear the pop of the locks.
When I open the door, she’s all the way across the seat on the passenger side, her face averted and wiping tears from her cheeks. Feeling as if a hacksaw is ripping my chest open, I haul up into the seat and pull the door closed, surrounding us in a cocoon of steel and glass and snow. I set the wrapped gift on the seat beside me. The overhead light goes off.
In the quiet darkness, my voice is a rough mess. “I’m so sorry, Emma. If I’d stopped to think for a second about what I was implying, I’d have known I was way off base.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her quavering voice and the tears still spilling down her cheeks immediately prove that’s a lie. If it didn’t matter, she wouldn’t be crying. “Can you drive me home? I’m not going back to the party looking like this.”
With a tearstained face that’s my fucking fault. But I don’t think she wants to hear any more apologies now. I don’t think she wants to hear anything from me right now. So I silently grab the scraper and clear off the windows, then remain quiet on the drive to her apartment.
As soon as I stop, she grabs her purse and opens her door, hopping out. “Thanks for the ride.”
She slams the door. As if she expects me to drive away.
Or as if she wants me to drive away.
That thought hurts like a motherfucker, but it doesn’t matter. Whether she’s expecting it or wanting it, I’m not leaving. I won’t rush her, but I’m not backing off, either.
Emma’s already at her apartment door when I catch up to her. Her mascara’s in a raccoon mask around her eyes, but some of the angry fire has returned to her gaze. My fighter. I knocked her down but she’s up again.
Lips tight, she twists her key in the lock. “You really think you’re coming in?”
“You said you had a virgin pussy all wrapped up for me.”
“And you said you didn’t want it,” she snaps back and shoves her door open.
I’m behind her even as she turns to slam it in my face. Instead I have her up against the door a second later, my hand seizing her wrists and holding them over her head as she struggles against me.
Using my weight to trap her against the door, I lower my face to hers and growl, “I want it. I want everything you have to give. But I was so damn wrong about it not being an exchange. Every time you give yourself freely to me, Emma, you’ll get something in return.”
Renewed rage sparks in her eyes. “I don’t want anything in return!”
“That’s too bad, because you’re going to get me,” I say hoarsely, and her struggles abruptly cease. “You’re going to get these rough hands that need to touch you. These eyes that will never tire of looking at you. These arms that will hold you steady or lift you up whenever you need their strength. This head that’s crazy about every little thing you do.” My voice deepens. “And you’re going to get this heart that’s already fallen in love with you.”
Lips trembling, she looks up at me with wonder filling her big brown eyes. “Logan…”
Releasing her wrists, I gently catch her beautiful face in my hands. “And my big cock. You’re going to get that, too.”
Her sudden bright smile and husky laugh lift through me, easing the heavy ache in my chest. And I want to kiss her, but I’m not done ye
t.
“And my big mouth, baby,” I add gruffly. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” Her eyes soften, and her hands come up to stroke my jaw, her touch the sweetest heaven. “I know you didn’t mean it.” Her breath shudders, and her fingers slip back to link together behind my neck. “But I think I’ve been waiting for you to find that deal breaker. Me being a whore seemed like it must be.”
Ah, Christ. “Honest to God, even if you were, it wouldn’t be a deal breaker for me.” When she begins to laugh, as if that was supposed to be a joke, I shake my head and meet her gaze with mine. “Listen,” I tell her solemnly. “Those supposed deal breakers that made you feel like you were lacking something—those were just excuses those assholes made so they wouldn’t have to give anything to someone else. They just wanted to love little clones of themselves. They weren’t willing to risk enough, to love someone else enough. But I will love you enough, Emma. You could be after my money and I’d love you so much that you wouldn’t have any choice but to fall for me anyway.”
A tremulous smile curves her lips. “That sounds about right. I don’t think any woman has a chance against you.”
“Too bad for them. I don’t want any woman but you.”
Another sigh shudders from her. She cradles my face in her hands. Her voice is soft as she confesses, “I’m in danger of falling so hard and so fast for you.”
“Good.” It’s thick and rough. “Because I’ve already fallen hard. So I’ll be right here waiting to catch you.”
She whispers my name, her eyes shining with sudden tears, and her gaze earnestly searches mine. “I want you to know, that just because I’m not moving as fast as you, it doesn’t mean I don’t want you, or that I can’t imagine a future with you. I want that so much. I just—”
“Have more reason to be wary.”
“Not more reason. In the end, we’re both risking the same thing. I’m just more accustomed to not getting what I want than you are, I think.”