At last, the tops of her breasts came into view, their lush, white skin begging for his kiss, for his touch. Logan tamped down a growl that rose in his throat. Damn it, but the path he had made for himself was proving nearly impossible. He’d never been harder in his life and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Christ, if he didn’t get things moving soon, he’d explode right there before he so much as kissed her.
Claire pulled the dress over her head, balled it up in her hands and tossed it to him. It arced between them with a seductive swoosh, barely giving Logan enough time to catch it. He smiled at her. “Come here.”
Claire shook her head leisurely, her blonde hair twirling about her bared shoulders. “No. If you want me, you’ll have to come to me first.”
Ah. She wanted compromise. If there was one word in the English language that managed to piss him off more than “compromise,” he didn’t know what it was. Logan liked when things went his way and only his way. Above all, he hated giving in. Tonight was supposed to be about regaining his control, not about once again bending to appease Claire. She owed him for today, and he intended to collect his payment. Many times over, if he was lucky enough.
“I want you,” he told her, not budging an inch. “But you want me more.”
Her eyes sparked with fire. “I do not.”
His grin grew wider. “Do too.”
“You’re being childish.” She plopped her hands on her hips, an action that only served to thrust her breasts out like tempting offerings.
He allowed his gaze to slide down to those offerings, lingering on them. “Then why are your nipples already hard? And why are you breathing so quickly?”
“Logan.” Her voice held a note of chastisement.
“You’re blushing. Did you know that when you blush, it even spreads to the tops of your gorgeous breasts?”
“Logan.”
“Come here, Claire,” he ordered again, holding out his arms to her. “You know you want to.”
Of course she wanted to. He could read as much in her expressive face. But she also didn’t want to give in to him, that much was clear in the stubborn set of her chin. To win, he would have to play dirty. Literally.
“If you don’t want to come to me, I guess I’ll just have to tell you what I want to do to you.” He released an aggrieved sigh. “First, I’m going to kiss you. Everywhere but on your lips. I think I’ll start with that sensitive spot right behind your ear, then move down your neck to your collarbone, your shoulders, your wrist. Then your belly, then I’ll tug down those sexy red panties and—”
“Logan,” she abruptly cut off his musings, throwing herself into his arms before he could continue. He pulled her closer to him, her soft body tantalizingly curving into his. She tilted her head back and he noted she was still blushing. “You really are an exasperating man.”
He flashed her another grin that was far more lighthearted than he truly felt. “I do my best.”
Her eyes grew serious. “I’m sorry.”
Her simple words hit him like a fist in the gut. “Damn it.”
He didn’t want to listen to her explanation because he didn’t want to soften toward her again. What he really, really wanted more than anything else was to get Claire into bed and have mind-numbing sex with her all night long. Holding on to his anger felt good. It helped him to put everything into perspective. But if she started talking, he knew without a doubt in his mind that he would let her sway him.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, Logan, but I do,” she insisted, reaching up to cup his face. “I hurt you and I owe you an explanation.”
“Fine.” He turned his head to the side and kissed her palm. “But give it to me tomorrow. When I’m not about to screw your brains out.”
“Logan.” This time, her tone was indignant. Good. He wanted to distract her.
Logan bent his head and kissed her, tasting the sweetness of her lips. Claire let out a soft, mewling sound that made him go weak and kissed him back with a fervor that matched his own. Needing more of her, he slid his hands down the curved lines of her body, sweeping down her back to rest on her rounded derriere. He pressed her against his aching loins, wanting her to feel him.
Desire was a thick haze inside his skull, a potent drug coursing through his veins. Jesus, every time he was with her was better than the last. And even though he had promised himself this night would be slow, he knew that this first time would be quick, fiery, soul-consuming.
Claire’s hands were on his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Their kiss broke for a moment as the shirt covered his face, resuming the instant it was gone. She moved to his bare chest next, caressing a trail of fire over his pecs.
When she began pressing hot, moist kisses across his chest, he sucked in a breath of startled pleasure. Her hands wove their magic spell lower, over his stomach, flitting ever closer to the part of him that wanted her touch the most. She flicked her tongue over a flat male nipple, sending a blast of erotic heat crashing over him.
Claire looked up, a seductive smile tilting her luscious lips. “Do you like that, Logan?”
“Yes,” he ground out, his voice gravelly.
“Mmm.” She lowered her head and did it again. “But do you think you like it as much as I do?”
He laughed then. He couldn’t help it. “Touché.”
She licked his other nipple. “Was that a yes or a no?”
Logan growled and pulled her back to him for another steamy, possessive kiss. His hands unerringly found the clasp of her bra and popped it, sending the bra sliding to the floor in a whisper of sound. He crushed her against him, only slightly impeded by her burgeoning belly, loving the contrast of her pliant breasts against the hardness of his chest.
He tore his lips from hers. “That was a hell yes, sweetheart.”
Claire let out a low, sultry laugh that hit him hard. She tugged at the opening of his pants and a thrill of satisfaction shot through him. This was their common ground, this insane passion that blazed through them. Nothing else mattered now but that Claire was in his arms. She was his, damn it.
His pants gone, he scooped her up in his arms again and carried her to the bed. She wound her arms around his neck and tilted her face up to receive his kiss.
“You seem to have a thing for picking me up,” she murmured teasingly.
She was right, he did. He couldn’t help it. She was so petite in every way that it made him want to pick her up and hold her forever.
“Get used to it,” he told her, his voice rough with an emotion he didn’t care to define.
Logan laid her gently on the bed then stepped back to enjoy the sight of her, nearly completely naked. She looked like a Venus lying there, gazing at him through lowered lashes. Her pale skin made a striking contrast against his black sheets. The dusky-pink crests of her nipples tipped upward, beckoning him.
God, but he liked the sight of her there on his bed. Maybe a little too much.
Before he could linger on that uncomfortable thought, he joined her. No room for thinking tonight, he reminded himself, only feeling. His body covered hers, skin to skin. Logan felt as if he’d been seared with an iron. His every sense became amplified, heightened almost to the point of pain. Her whimper echoed in his ears.
Logan kissed her again, a ravaging kiss that both took and claimed in the same instant. He wanted more, everything Claire could give. His hands slid to her breasts, grazing her taut nipples, bringing a moan to her lips. Logan needed to lose himself inside her, to erase, even for a few seconds, the bitter ghosts of his past. He needed to be the man she wanted, the only man she wanted.
“Tell me what you want, Claire,” he demanded against her kiss-swollen mouth. He fell into her eyes, drowning in the liquid passion reflected there.
She cupped the curve of his jaw with one hand and ran the other through his tousled hair, down over his back. “I want you.”
“How badly?” he managed to ask, dragging his gaze lower, across her breasts. Fascinated, he
watched the contrast of his dark skin against her pale, soft breasts, watched the way they rose and fell in ragged rhythm. He couldn’t help himself. He bent his head and flicked his tongue across first one nipple, then the other.
Her breath escaped her in a hiss of need. “Badly.”
Logan raised his head, meeting her gaze before taking each nipple into his mouth. A surge of primal satisfaction, coupled with savage lust, bowled through him. He realized what he wanted from her, what he needed from her. Meeting her gaze again, he told her, “I want you to beg.”
Before she could respond, Logan skimmed his hand down over her belly, then lower, sliding it beneath the elastic band of her underwear. Her breath sucked in sharply as his fingers connected with warm, wet female flesh. While his fingers teased the slick nub of her clit, he kissed a path from her breasts to her bellybutton. He allowed his tongue to trace a path around the small impression, then dipped it inside. Removing his hand from its position, he tugged her underwear down over her thighs. He kissed the inside of her thigh, her knees, her calves, ankles. When he finally tossed her underwear somewhere over his shoulder, his gut urged him to cover her with his body and lose himself in her.
“Logan, please.”
Claire’s soft, sexy voice shook him, begging him just as he had asked. He parted her thighs and bent down to taste her. She arched against him, as hungry as he. At the brink himself, Logan rose to kiss her, swallowing as much of her cries as he could. His hands tangled in the silken, fragrant strands of her hair as his body slid inside hers in one swift thrust. She was tight and wet and in just a few thrusts, she clamped on him even more as a spasm racked her. He tried to hold on but couldn’t. With another deep thrust, Logan came too. And he knew it in that moment.
The truth hit him like a lead ball in the middle of his forehead. He loved Claire.
Holy hell.
He withdrew from her immediately and rolled to his side, giving her his back. Claire wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled closer, trapping him as inescapably as his realization. For a long time, he lay in the darkness, forcing himself not to turn back to her, listening instead to the steady sounds of her breathing. Wondering what in the hell he was going to do now.
When Claire woke up, she found herself alone in Logan’s bed. She instantly knew something had gone wrong. Last night after they made love, she had felt him retreating, both physically and emotionally. His disappearance was proof of it.
Filled with misgiving, she forced herself to get out of the comfortable haven of the bed and head to the master bath for a shower. Hoping the cleansing waters would clear her mind, she remained inside far longer than necessary, until her hands got pruney. But when she finally turned off the shower and rubbed herself dry with a large, fluffy yellow towel, she had to concede that the only thing the shower had accomplished was making her smell like Logan. His soap really did smell divine.
Claire sighed and reached for Logan’s hairbrush. Last night had been intense. This morning would be difficult. She was stalling and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to face him, afraid of what he might say or do. Her reflection stared back at her in the bathroom mirror as she combed the tangles from her hair, looking pale and scared. Rightfully so. She knew what his leaving the bed before she woke meant. During their week together, Logan had held her every morning, sometimes kissing her awake, sometimes stroking her hair or massaging her back.
He hadn’t forgiven her.
Claire frowned at her drowned-rat appearance and left the bathroom, the towel wrapped firmly around her. A cursory examination of the room revealed Logan’s creativity in removing the various pieces of her clothing. Her bra hung from a lamp shade, her dress was on his dresser, and her underwear peeped out from beneath his bed. Feeling icky in yesterday’s clothes, she forced herself out the door at last, going in search of Logan and whatever the morning would bring.
She found him in the kitchen, seated at the island alongside Derek. Both had bowls of cereal before them. Only Derek looked up at her entrance.
He sent her a genuine smile. “Morning. How are you and Baby Thumper?”
She found herself smiling back at him. Derek had quickly become her ally, despite the oddness she felt in confiding in a famous actor. Last night they had talked for hours, Derek regaling her with talks of growing up with Logan. It seemed ironic that Derek provided her with so much information Logan would not.
“We’re fine.” Claire patted her belly. “But hungry. Where’s the cereal?”
Derek stood, pulling out the barstool next to his and gesturing for her to take it. “Sit down. I’ll get it for you.”
Claire started to argue, but Derek silenced her, holding up a hand. “It’s not optional.” He winked before striding over to the cabinets along the far wall.
She felt awkward as she slid up onto the barstool. Logan still had yet to acknowledge her presence. He had the New York Times spread out before him and seemed deeply engrossed in the Metro Section.
“Christ,” he muttered suddenly, looking up—not at Claire, but at Derek. “Did I hear you calling my child the name of a character from The Little Mermaid?”
Derek looked back at Logan as he pulled a bowl from the cabinet. “Actually, it’s Bambi. And yes, you did.”
Logan raised an imperious brow and at last swung his gaze to Claire. “Might I ask why?”
“The baby kept kicking last night,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice even. This morning scene, with Logan ignoring her in favor of the newspaper, seemed an eerie echo of her marriage to Garrett. It wasn’t what she wanted for herself ever again.
The musical clink of cereal raining into a bowl invaded the silence. “It was incredible,” Derek called over his shoulder. “I’ve never felt a baby kick before.”
“Really,” Logan drawled, still pinning Claire with an inscrutable look. “How nice that you could start with Claire.”
Claire stared. She couldn’t believe the rudeness he was displaying, not only to her but also to his best friend. He had once again reverted back to a cool, remote stranger. She found it difficult to reconcile this Logan with the passionate, consumed man who had made love to her so feverishly last night.
Derek didn’t comment on Logan’s rudeness as he brought the cereal over to Claire. “I hope you like this,” he murmured. “Logan only has one kind of cereal.”
Claire didn’t bother looking at the bowl’s contents. “It’s fine,” she told him. “Thank you.”
“What do you want to drink?” he asked, looking eager to be helpful.
“For God’s sake, she’s pregnant, not helpless,” Logan said cuttingly. “Leave off.”
Derek spun on his heel, facing Logan. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Loge?”
Logan’s lips tightened into a harsh line. “Maybe I don’t like you flirting with Claire.”
Derek reeled as though he’d been physically struck. “Jesus, is that what you think?” His fists clenched at his sides. “You’re right, she’s not helpless, but she is carrying your child. I was just trying to show her some respect.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. “Are you saying I don’t?” His voice was deceptively quiet, his tone lethal.
Claire had heard enough. She stood abruptly, the barstool scraping across the tiled kitchen floor. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not hungry after all.” She rushed to the front hall, retrieved her purse and keys, and slipped out the door as quickly as she could manage.
When she reached her car, she heard the side door slam and turned to find Logan striding toward her. He looked furious, though with her or with Derek, she couldn’t quite tell. Likely, it was a combination of both. She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat and gripped her keys.
“I’m leaving.”
His eyes flicked over her. “Obviously.”
Claire felt dangerously close to hysteria. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the roof of her car, ef
fectively trapping Claire between his body and the passenger door. “You don’t think what is going to work out?”
“Us.” She swallowed. “I don’t know how we’re going to raise a child together when you can’t even be civil to me after we’ve spent the night together.”
Logan ran his free hand through his hair, his eyes glittering. “Frankly, Claire, I’m the one who has a right to be angry. Not you.”
“I thought that after last night you forgave me.”
“Last night was about revenge,” Logan said coldly, his voice utterly devoid of all emotion. “The sex was fantastic—it always is—but that was all it was. Sex.”
Claire knew he was intentionally being cruel, that he used his callousness as a defense mechanism. But it still hurt. She tried her best to maintain her composure, but it grew increasingly difficult. “I’m not ashamed of you, Logan,” she told him again. “That’s not why I didn’t tell my mother.”
He stared. “I don’t care. Save your explanations. They mean less than nothing to me.”
That stung. Actually, the hurt it induced was more than a mere sting. It was an aching pang inside her chest. She turned away from him, slamming the passenger door closed and ducking beneath his arm. “Goodbye, Logan,” she tossed over her shoulder, knowing that if she looked back at him now, she would cave and lose all sense of her pride. She desperately wanted to go back to him, to force him to listen, to iron out their differences. But she was also afraid that if she went back to him, he would continue to shut her out, and she couldn’t go through that again. Especially not with Logan.
So she got in her car and drove away.
Logan watched Claire leave without protest. He stood in the driveway long after she had peeled out onto the main road, staring at nothing in particular, hating himself. Hating everything. He felt empty inside, hollow.
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 16