by Elise Noble
“We can get breakfast at the office,” Sloane said. “That’ll save a few minutes.”
“Is there proper food there this week?”
Or was the kitchen still filled with kelp smoothies and avocados? Logan hated avocados. People raved about them, but to him, they tasted like compressed grass only slimier.
“I’ve got Frosted Flakes in my desk drawer. In the box marked ‘Operations Reports.’”
“I love you.”
Sloane giggled. What if she realised he wasn’t joking? He didn’t think she was ready to hear those words yet, and when they hit the road, he found out he was right.
“Logan?”
Her tone said this was something he didn’t want to hear.
“Yeah?”
“When we get to the office, can we not let everyone know we’re together? It’s not that I don’t want them to find out, but they’re going to stare, and just for a few days…”
“I get it.”
Logan didn’t like it, but he got it. While the feelings between them might have been building for a long time, the start of their actual relationship had been sudden, and it had happened in a week when Sloane had been forced to deal with a ton of drama. Then there was Joey McManus. No wonder she hated being the centre of attention.
Just thinking of that little fucker made Logan grip the steering wheel so hard he glanced down to see whether it had bent. McManus would pay for what he’d done. Not this week, not next week, but soon.
He forced himself to let go with one hand so he could squeeze Sloane’s. “I’ll keep out of your way in the office as long as you’re back in my bed tonight.”
“Thank you.”
But Logan hadn’t made any promises about digital contact, and he sent the first message before he went to his meeting.
Logan: I can still taste you.
He watched Sloane as she read it, then felt kind of guilty when she spat coffee over her desk. Sorry, sweetheart.
But he wasn’t sorry enough not to type out another message as he walked to the conference room.
Logan: And I can still feel your lips around my cock.
Sloane: We’re in the office!!!!!
Logan: So don’t squirm too much in your seat. Could get messy.
Would she or wouldn’t she play along? How far could he push her? Nothing came through from her for almost three hours, but then his phone buzzed as he took off his VR headset and tried to calm his heartbeat. The test simulation had been a blast, quite literally, but it was still early days.
Sloane: I’m in a different seat now.
Logan: Is it waterproof?
Sloane: No, but Leah isn’t staring at me anymore. I miss the taste of you.
So his little kitten did want to play along. Logan itched to type out a response, except Nate glanced across at him and he couldn’t afford to get distracted in this meeting. But Sloane’s words had already had an effect on him, and it only took him a second to snap a selfie of the shadow in his sweatpants and send it with a single word.
Logan: Soon…
By the time he got back to his desk, he had a message waiting, and it turned out Sloane had gotten into this game more than he ever dreamed she would. And she must have paid a visit to the bathroom because she’d sent a picture of those fantastic tits, albeit still ensconced in a fancy bra.
Sloane: Hurry up…
Now Logan was the one with the problem. He slid his chair farther forward so his desk hid the evidence. Where was Sloane? She hadn’t been kidding when she said she wasn’t at her desk. Her chair was empty, her computer screen dark.
Logan scanned the room, searching for the familiar brown hair or a splash of the pale pink top she’d put on that morning. Nothing. Then he spotted her favourite coffee mug, a dainty thing decorated with multicoloured cats that Bradley had given her one Christmas. Black and Emmy were out, and she was sitting at Black’s desk, hidden behind his oversized computer screen.
Well done, Sloane.
She didn’t know it yet, but she’d picked the perfect spot.
Logan spent an hour in the gym, then hunted down Agatha. She’d found another dating profile, but she hadn’t had any luck with tracking the perpetrator, and today, she’d gotten distracted by a fraud case. Secretly, Logan didn’t mind the delay. Sloane was safe at his place, and as long as the culprit was on the loose, she’d stay there.
For the rest of the afternoon, he dialled back on the smut, sending mildly filthy messages and grinning like an idiot into his fuck-awful smoothie. But at five o’clock when people started leaving the office, he could take it no more.
Holding a sheaf of papers in front of himself to hide his painfully hard cock, he sauntered over to Black’s office and pushed the door open.
“Hi.”
Sloane’s eyes snapped up. “What are you doing here?”
Her, if he got his way. “Just came to say hello. How much work do you have left?”
“About another half hour.”
Perfect. He pushed her chair back a foot, slid her laptop to one side, and sat on the desk in front of her. Those beautiful brown eyes widened as they took in the outline that was all too obvious through his sweatpants. He normally wore jeans to the office, but for Sloane, he’d made an exception.
“Logan, what are you doing?”
The hint of panic in her voice only made him harder. “You said you missed the taste.”
“Are you serious? Tell me you’re not serious?”
Logan shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because we’re in the office and this is my boss’s desk,” she hissed.
“He’s not here.”
“There’re still loads of people out there. Somebody else might see.”
“No, they won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do. Why do you think Black rearranged the furniture a few months back?”
The filthy old bastard had got Logan to help him one weekend, and they’d checked all the angles. Logan wouldn’t be the first man to get blown at this desk.
He held his breath, waiting to see what Sloane would do, and his patience paid off. Slowly, slowly, she slid his waistband down until he sprang free.
At the first touch of her velvety lips, he almost busted a nut, but he forced himself to think of all sorts of unsexy things. Statistics on the new-model Ford pickup. The trees he needed to plant before winter. Elvira in accounts.
“Hey, reckon we should call up Kenneth and let him listen?”
Sloane gagged, and his cock popped out of her mouth as she started giggling. “He could use it as an instructional for his secretary.”
Oh, now her sense of humour was shining through. Logan was going to like the new Sloane.
“But that would mean sharing you, and I’m not going to.” He tucked himself away temporarily, pulled her up, and gave her a gentle shove towards Emmy and Black’s private bathroom. “Let’s finish this.”
“You can’t be—”
“Where you’re concerned, I’m always serious. Go, quick, while nobody’s looking in this direction.”
She stumbled into the bathroom, legs adorably wobbly like a baby fawn’s, and Logan quickly followed.
“Fuck, kitten. You’re not wearing any panties.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Trust me, it’s a surprise.”
Holy shit, she was dripping. He tore open a condom with his teeth and did the necessary, lifted her up against the wall, and lowered her onto his cock. Office sex was a first for him, but with Sloane in the building, it wouldn’t be the last time he got dirty at work.
“You’re a difficult woman to stay away from.”
“I hardly got anything done all day.”
“You get bonus points for doing me.”
“You’re such an asshole, Logan.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “But I’m your asshole.”
Logan bet the bathroom had good soundproofing—Black would have made sure of
that—but even so, he swallowed Sloane’s cries as he thrust into her. Their first time, she’d been nervous, a little hesitant, but now she was starting to let her guard down and he loved raw, unfiltered Sloane.
She went rigid as she came, her muscles tightening around his cock and sending him over the edge as well. Heaven in a prim little dress with no panties on.
“I can’t believe we did that,” she whispered.
“I’ll give you frequent reminders to refresh your memory.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Better than boring. Half an hour, right? Want to pick up a pizza on the way home?”
She gave her head a delicate shake as he set her on her feet and rearranged her dress, but it was more “I can’t believe this guy” than an outright no.
“Pizza?” he asked again.
“No anchovies on mine.”
Just extra sauce.
They nearly got away with it. Sloane finger-combed her hair while Logan disposed of the condom and drank a few mouthfuls of water from his cupped hands at the sink. Sex with Sloane counted as an extra workout and left him thirsty. He watched her in the mirror, smiling at her flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes. Were her lips sore? They looked a little red. If he kept kissing her like that, he might need to shave off his beard because he didn’t want to leave her skin chapped. He’d always thought he looked too young clean-shaven, but now that he was thirty-seven, knocking off a year or two mightn’t be a bad thing. Then again, the beard came in useful for undercover work in the Middle East. When was he next going overseas?
He was still debating the merits of facial hair when Sloane opened the door to leave, and he bumped into her as she froze in front of him.
Oops.
“Hey, how was Atlanta?” Logan asked.
Black looked across at them from his desk, one eyebrow raised. “How long has this been going on?”
“This particular instance, or…?”
“You two, together.”
“About two days and eighteen hours.”
Black turned to his computer and clicked the mouse a few times. “Fuck. Luther won the pool again.”
“Nice bathroom, by the way.”
“Emmy’s rather fond of it.”
Logan gave Sloane a nudge. Was she okay after Black’s mention of the pool?
“Kitten, can you finish your stuff tomorrow? Or at home?”
A single nod.
Logan grabbed her laptop and purse and steered her out of the office. “Then let’s go get pizza.”
CHAPTER 24 - SLOANE
I COULD ONLY imagine what my colleagues were thinking as I scurried through the office behind Logan. My cheeks burned, my hair looked as if Logan had been pulling it—because he had—and we both reeked of sex.
And worse, my freaking boss had seen us slinking out of his darn bathroom.
“What do you think will happen?” I whispered to Logan as I clambered into his truck.
“About what?”
“We got caught!” My voice rose to a shriek, and I quickly checked around to see if anyone else had heard.
“Only by Black.”
“Only by Black? What does the company handbook say? Is sex in the office a disciplinary offence?”
“If it was, all the directors would have to fire each other.”
“Black looked pissed.”
“That’s his normal expression.”
“Really pissed.”
“Only because he lost the pool.” Logan pressed a button on the steering wheel, and a dial tone filled the cabin. “No anchovies, right?”
How could he even think of eating? “I’m not hungry.”
He ordered two pizzas anyway, plus a side of chicken wings and a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
“Don’t you listen to anything I say?”
He reached over and squeezed my thigh. “Not when you’re talking bullshit, kitten.”
The only reason I didn’t strangle him was that my phone rang. And it was Emmy.
“H-h-hello?” Had Black told her what happened?
“I understand congratulations are in order?”
“Sorry?”
“You and Logan? I’d have preferred if you could have held off for another week, but such is life.”
“You mean—”
“But there’s some bad news.”
Oh heck, here it comes. “Please, just tell me.”
“Bradley overheard Black telling me about you two—that bathroom’s soundproofed, by the way—and now he wants to throw a bloody party. I’d suggest leaving the country.”
The volume was loud enough for Logan to hear, and he started laughing.
“Told you,” he muttered.
“I can’t leave the country. Nickel broke his leg, and he’s still recovering.”
“I’ll hold Bradley off for a week or two, but you’ve got loads of vacation stored up. Use some of it.”
“Emmy, I—”
“Gotta go. Don’t worry if you’re late tomorrow—Alex is making me run a fucking marathon first thing, so I’ll probably crawl in around midday.”
Aaaaaaaand…she was gone.
A week passed, and I gradually began to get used to spending my evenings with Logan. Half the time, he drove me insane, but the other half, I wanted him so fiercely I thought I’d lose my mind. He gave off these weird pheromones that made all my synapses misfire. It was like living on a roller coaster, but the rush of being with him was addictive.
Everyone in the office knew now, everyone, and some joker kept leaving sex toys on my desk each morning. I couldn’t even be mad because Logan knew exactly what to do with them. And I’d only been back to my house once, to pick up more clothes and do Edna’s grocery shopping since she’d been laid up with a cold all week.
“So you found yourself a new man?” she asked when I apologised for not being around much.
“I did.”
“That’s good, dear. I wasn’t so keen on the last one. My husband, God rest his soul, always said the only men who wear shiny suits are charlatans and bigamists.”
“Logan doesn’t wear shiny suits, thank goodness.”
Or any kind of a suit. Mostly, he didn’t even wear clothes.
“Sounds like a keeper. Did you buy those tiny sausages I’m fond of?”
“Two packages.”
“You’re a gem, dear.”
Nickel was recovering too. He had the run of Logan’s house now, and he got around remarkably quickly with his bandage when he wasn’t high on the family-sized bag of catnip Logan had bought for him.
Life was good. A little too good. Because all good things come to an end, and with Dan now helping Agatha to investigate the catfishing, it was only a matter of time before it was safe for me to go home again.
“Are you okay?” Logan asked on Monday morning. Sun streamed in through the bedroom window behind him, highlighting every peak and trough of his muscles.
“Absolutely fine. Why?”
“Your sweater’s on inside out.”
Darn it. “I just got distracted.”
“By what? And don’t say my naked ass because you’ve seen that plenty of times.”
What should I tell him? Every woman’s magazine I’d ever read said men hated women with insecurities, and I had more than a few of them. But Logan was staring at me, waiting, so I couldn’t say nothing.
Then something slimy landed on my foot.
“Yeuch! What was that?”
Nickel looked extraordinarily pleased with himself as the frog hopped across the bedroom floor, and I felt like kissing him. Nickel, not the frog. Saved by my cat again.
“Looks like a green tree frog,” Logan said. “There’s a pond in the woods out back, so they often come to visit.”
Logan picked it up to show me, and I beat a hasty retreat into the bathroom and slammed the door. Discussion: avoided.
Or so I thought.
I’d forgotten I was dealing with Logan, master of strategy and an expert at reading h
is prey. He waited until I’d got into his truck to go to the office, then he locked the doors.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
He sighed and turned to me. “Kitten, what’s distracting you? You’ve been quiet all weekend.”
“I don’t know. I guess… I guess I’m just thinking about our future. Where it’s going.”
For the first time ever, I saw a flash of nervousness in Logan’s eyes.
“Where do you think our future’s going?” he asked.
“This past week’s been crazy. I mean, I ended up living in your house with no warning whatsoever, and it’s been amazing, but I don’t know if that’s what you signed up for, and if it isn’t, then things could get awkward at work, and I hope we can act like adults, and…”
He just stared at me, which was hardly surprising given the word vomit coming from my mouth.
“Why are you writing us off when we’re only just beginning?”
“Because…” I hated talking about the serious stuff. Hated it. “Because I’m scared. Scared of this ending, and every day we spend together, I like you more.” I swallowed, feeling sick, and voiced the question that terrified me. “Where do you see our future going?”
He took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead even though the engine wasn’t turned on yet.
“I see you coming home with me again tonight, although I can’t guarantee you’ll get much rest. I’ll make you come once, twice, three times, and then you’ll fall asleep with your head on my chest. And in the morning, I’ll put whatever frog or mouse or bird Nickel’s brought us out into the backyard and make us breakfast. Then we’ll go to work. And the next day, and the day after. Sometimes we’ll stay at my place, sometimes we’ll stay at yours. At the weekend, I’ll let you out of bed long enough to take you on a proper date—dinner, a movie, whatever—and afterwards I’ll kiss you breathless at the side of the road because I won’t be able to last the whole drive home without tasting you. Rinse and repeat.
“And in six months, if you haven’t gotten sick of me going away for work and also being an asshole, then I’ll wake up at your place one morning and get pissed off because my favourite shirt is at my house and I’m not, and I’ll ask you to move in with me when your lease is up because I don’t want to live alone anymore. And in a year, eighteen months maybe, some punk will look at you sideways in a bar, you’ll get mad at me when I punch him, then I’ll put my ring on your finger because I want every other asshole to know you’re mine. There. That’s how I see things going.”