When the elevator opened on six she steamed out and strode past her room and straight on to Logan’s. She raised her fist to pound on the door, then hesitated when a little voice in the back of her head whispered, What if he’s in there with Regan and they’re…
They’re in for a rude interruption… She banged on the door, and had her fist poised to do it again when the door swung open. Logan grabbed her by the arms and hauled her into the room. Before she knew quite what had happened he’d slammed the door behind her and had her backed up against the hard surface. Her breath rushed out in a startled gust.
“Let go of me,” she said and tried to shove him away. He didn’t budge an inch, but the press of his body against hers set five-alarm fires in all her vulnerable zones. She had a quick mental flash of her wispy new panties disintegrating from the heat.
“Whose attention were you after in that dress, Sophie?” His voice held a note of something primitive she’d never heard before, and certain overstimulated intimate muscles fluttered in reaction.
“Why do you care?” She couldn’t help scanning for signs of Regan, but she saw no evidence of the statuesque brunette. “Seems like you were too busy with Regan to notice anyone else. Where is she? Don’t tell me she’s come and gone already. How disappointing.”
“Regan?” He looked confused for a moment, and then…he burst out laughing. The jerk. Mild-mannered, introverted Sophie officially left the building and stands-up-for-herself Sophie slugged him in the stomach.
She might as well have punched a wall. He barely flinched, but her hand wept from the impact with his unyielding abs. Following instinct, she brought her throbbing knuckles to her mouth.
He drew her fist away from her lips and kissed it. “Feel better?”
“No.” She yanked her hand back. The bastard had the nerve to grin at her. The little groove appeared beside his mouth and she had an uncharacteristic urge to slap it off his face.
“How about now?” He snuck his hand under her skirt and stroked her sex through the microscopic panties that offered no defense whatsoever.
Her whole body tensed at the contact. The power of speech fled. All she could do was cling to his shoulders and stare up at him helplessly while the wet sounds of his long fingers sliding in, out, and around her private parts like he owned them filled the otherwise silent room.
A low, appreciative groan rumbled from Logan’s throat. He dropped his head until his lips were next to her ear. “Now I know why you’re so cranky. This little scrap of underwear you’ve got on is soaked. Must be very…uncomfortable.”
She’d bite her tongue before confirming, although obviously, her body was giving him all the confirmation he needed. That scared her, realizing what little control she had over her reactions to him. She was mad, damn it. She shouldn’t be holding her legs open and grinding against his hand like a desperate woman unable to resist his touch.
“This sweet little spot needs some TLC. Here’s the deal, Soph. You admit it was me you thought about when you got dressed this evening, and I’ll kiss it better.”
Her eyes nearly crossed at the notion of his mouth replacing his hand. Her inner muscles issued their own answer. He must have felt the spasm because he whispered, “Should I take that as a yes?”
She pressed her lips together—her own pathetic version of defiance.
“Stubborn? I should warn you, I can be stubborn, too.” So saying, he removed his hand. She wanted to burst into tears at the instant and overwhelming feeling of deprivation. “Who were you thinking about tonight?” he repeated.
Pride forbade her from admitting she’d dressed for him and tried to turn herself into the kind of woman a man like him belonged with, because she’d failed so miserably he’d spent the entire time in the arms of another woman and barely spared her a second glance. She didn’t know what kind of game he was playing with her, but she wanted no part of it…except now he was kissing his way down her throat, and into the vee between her breasts, and she couldn’t find the willpower to tell him to stop.
Quick fingers latched onto the zipper at the back of her dress and tugged it down. “Who did you think of when you zipped yourself into this cock-tease of a dress?” Another tug sent the dress pooling at her feet.
Logan sucked in a breath. “Jesus, look at you,” he muttered, then grabbed her hips and hauled her up until their faces were level.
Braced between his unyielding body and the equally unyielding door, she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. Trembles started somewhere in the vicinity of her knees and worked their way up—another involuntary physical reaction to all the temper and desire swirling inside her.
“Who’d you fantasize about when you picked out this lingerie?” He ran his finger along the lacy edge of one bra cup. Using his other hand, he toyed with the back clasp. “Who’d you visualize peeling it off? Unwrapping you like a gift…me?”
“No,” she lied.
“That’s too bad”—he abandoned the clasp—“since I’m the one who’s going to have the pleasure.” Then he lowered his head and used his tongue to tease her nipple into a tight point through the silk. “This bra hides nothing. Who’d you put it on for? Who were you imagining having these breasts pressed up against?” He scraped his teeth over the now-firm peak.
She couldn’t hold back a gasp, nor stop her fingers from spearing into his hair. But the gasp turned into a moan when he lifted her breasts until her nipples popped free of the cups. “Nobody. Don’t—”
Logan ignored her, and proceeded to torture her breasts. He licked. He bit. He used merciless suction to take each nipple deep into his mouth, sending a bolt of heat straight to her core. Then he raised his head and looked at what he’d done to her.
“The only chest you’re going to be pressed up against is mine.” So saying, he leaned in until his starched dress shirt scraped across her nipples. She sucked in a breath, barely managing not to beg out loud.
Her body pleaded with him in other ways. Her hips lifted and rocked, striving to use the ridge of his erection to alleviate the uncomfortable tension building inside her.
“No cheating.” He stepped back so her legs fell from his waist… She squeaked and clung to his shoulders to avoid falling to a heap at his feet, but he didn’t allow that to happen. He kept his hands at her waist and eased her down the door until her feet made contact with the floor. As soon as they did, he knelt before her and draped her leg over his shoulder. She stood there, propped against the door, balanced precariously on one high heel to try to stay upright.
She flattened her palms against the smooth wood. What she’d thought was too much before now became unbearable. Her heart pounded in her chest and an echoing pulse beat insistently between her thighs.
His lips brushed her navel. He pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to the ticklish skin just above her panties, and then scraped his teeth along her quivering inner thigh. Her muscles gave out and, next thing she knew, both legs were draped over his shoulders, his big hands cradling her butt. “Who was going to make your knees so weak you couldn’t stand anymore?”
She tried to squirm away but he tightened his grip and held her still. With the tip of his tongue he traced one seam of her panties all the way to where it disappeared between her legs. “Who’d you envision doing this?”
She bit her lip to keep from confessing anything, but couldn’t hold back a low, edgy groan. Nor could she stop herself from bowing her back, lifting her hips and offering herself up to him. She ought to have been mortified by her behavior, but decency was losing a battle with desperation. She needed that mouth, and it hovered maddeningly close.
His tongue darted out and laved her through the thin silk. Her stomach muscles coiled painfully tight. She cried out and jerked away as if he’d branded her. But then the burn subsided, to be replaced by a low, persistent, unspeakably addictive heat, and she came rushing back for more.
He wouldn’t give her more. Instead he held her there, shaking and twitching and sensel
ess with longing. “Are you suffering?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Who’d you dress up for, Sophie? Say my name and I’ll take the ache away.”
Oh, God, she wasn’t going to be able to hold out. Pride…anger…everything inside her crumbled beneath the weight of her need. “Please, Logan.”
He tore the flimsy excuse for underwear away, leaving her completely exposed. “Tell me,” he ordered and lowered his head, as though fully expecting her to comply. His hair tickled the inside of her thigh. His breath feathered over her center and her pelvic muscles contracted again, seeking relief. She closed her eyes and whimpered.
“That’s a very nice reply, but not the right answer.”
Her whimper gave way to a shocked cry when he lifted her hips and sank his teeth into the tender, swollen flesh protecting her entrance.
“You,” she screamed, and pounded the door with her fist as he used his tongue to drag her up and over the first jagged peak. Before she could catch her breath and beg for mercy, he drove her up again. His mouth plundered, ravaged, and sent her tumbling headlong into a place she’d only dreamed about—before Logan.
…
Sophie’s bucking and squirming and praying to God were gratifyingly unrestrained, but left Logan with the self-imposed obligation to bring her back down slow and easy. He held tight and kept his mouth on her, kissing her as intimately as she could stand, then gradually gentling the pressure and slowing the sweep of his tongue as her orgasm receded, leaving her limp and panting. He kissed her softly one last time while he slipped her shoes off. Then he eased her legs off his shoulders, gathered her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. If he’d needed any assurances as to whom she wanted, the last few minutes had given him plenty. Now it was his turn.
He laid her across the white sheets, stepping back to soak in the sight of her—arms flung out above her head, ankles crossed and knees drawn up. Naked, except for the black bra not quite containing her breasts. Dark, dazed eyes gazed at him from half-lowered lids. Her full lips trembled apart. “I’m still mad at you,” she whispered.
“Uh-oh. Better get rid of this.” He undid his belt, slid it from around his waist and let it drop to the floor. It was hard to make jokes with the scent of her teasing his brain, the taste of her coating his tongue, and his need for her creating an unholy pressure between his legs, but he thought he pulled it off.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not funny.”
“Oh, come on.” He aimed a grin at her and went to work on his shirt buttons. “That was a little bit funny.”
She tugged her bra into place and then propped herself up on her elbows. “No. You’re not funny, and you’re not charming. You’re just a…a no-good player, plain and simple. I can’t believe I ever had a crush on…” Her voice trailed off and she blushed all the way from the roots of her hair to the center of her chest.
“You had a crush on me?” Smiling, he shrugged his shirt off and reached for his fly.
“I’m over it. Keep your pants on, player, I’m not staying.” She sat up and made a move to scramble off the bed. He tugged his pants and briefs off, and then caught her ankle, preventing her escape.
“Before you rush off and slam the door in my face, want to tell me why I’m a ‘no-good player’ as you put it?”
If looks could kill, the one she shot him would have wiped out his entire family tree. She blew the hair out of her face and said, “You know why. I’m not blind, or stupid. I saw you with Regan tonight. You had your hands all over her—”
“It was a dance lesson. We were dancing.”
“She had her lips all over you, and…and…this is ridiculous. I’m done. Let me go.”
She tugged at the ankle he still held captive. When he didn’t let go, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared past him, looking so jealous and miserable he wanted to cuddle her, and then kiss her, and then… But he wanted to put this particular insecurity to rest first. It’s not that he didn’t have some sympathy. He’d experienced a flash of jealousy seeing her dance with Brock tonight, but he’d gotten over it as soon as she’d shown up at his door. He’d had his hands and mouth all over her, and she still doubted him.
“She kissed me on the cheek, Sophie, and it was nothing but friendly.”
Her eyes zipped back to his. “Bull. She picked you from the start.”
His confusion over that comment must have shown on his face, because she rolled her eyes and continued, “The bridesmaids’ bet, remember? You couldn’t find your room key after the dinner at Spago, and I told you about the bet? Regan was the one aiming to bag the best man. Well, no actually, at that point it was Julie, but then the morning of the scavenger hunt things shuffled and Regan called dibs—”
“Jesus.” He let go of her ankle and dropped down beside her on the bed. “I’ve been passed around like a canapé.”
“My point is, her interest in you goes way beyond friendly and I’m not so naive I don’t know it. She wants you. And you know what? That’s fine—inevitable, really. I always knew you’d end up with a girl like Regan, so go tango with her. No hard feelings. But stop paying attention to me, and flirting with me, and”—she made a vague gesture toward her lap—“all the rest of it.”
“By which you mean the”—he lowered his voice dramatically—“S-E-X?”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. What you’re doing isn’t amusing. It’s mean, and unfair, and you have to stop because otherwise, I’m not going to be able to keep myself from…from…” She shook her head and clamped her mouth shut, but her chin trembled.
“I’m not laughing,” he said firmly, and steeled himself to stand tough in the face of her tears, because if she figured any part of what he had to say stemmed from a desire to make her stop crying, she’d never truly believe the words. “Maybe you’re not naive, but you’re sure as hell blind.”
Her wide, wounded eyes filled with indignation.
“That’s right. You’re blind if you honestly can’t see that I don’t want Regan. Or Julie or Christine, for that matter. None of them interest me, and to make that sound less self-centered, I’ll hazard to guess I don’t rank very high on their lists of interests either, despite the damn bridesmaid pact. There’s only one woman who interests me. Only one woman I want. And she’s the only one I’ve been paying attention to, and flirting with, and all the rest of it. But if you can’t see that, and you can’t trust me, and you really believe I’m just a no-good player, then I’ve been wasting my time. Not to mention setting myself up for a shitload of disappointment, because without trust, we’re just fucking around. You might as well have dealt yourself in on the bridesmaid games, called dibs on me, and walked away with the win at the end of this week.”
Sophie closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I want to trust. I want to believe, but Logan, you didn’t even notice me that first night at the bachelorette party, and then, the next evening, you’re suddenly standing in the lobby like my knight in shining armor, dragging me to dinner, sticking by my side. I guess a part of me can’t fathom how I went from invisible to so dang interesting overnight.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth about why he’d dragged her to dinner that night, but admitting that any part of his actions stemmed from his promise to Colt would undermine the trust he desperately wanted from her. Besides, in truth, she’d caught his eye that night in the lobby before he’d even known who she was, and the attraction had been immediate, so the fact that Colt had asked him to take her under his wing was largely irrelevant.
“Were you wearing snug jeans and leaning all over the concierge desk the first night?”
She sniffed, looked at him, and wiped her cheek. “No.”
“Well, there you go. Mystery solved.”
Now she gave him a watery laugh. “Be serious. You did not notice me because you liked the way my butt looked in jeans.”
He reached over and dragged her onto his lap, splaying his hand across
the butt in question. “Have you seen your butt in jeans? Until you have, you’re not qualified to comment.” He squeezed, just for the fun of watching her squirm, and then looked her in the eye. “For the record, the night of the bachelorette party was the night I arrived at Beaver Creek, after working nonstop for weeks in what turns out to have been a wasted effort to give myself enough breathing room to detach from Defy Gravity for a minute. I was functioning on less than three hours of sleep and I barely knew my own name. The only thing that really sticks out in my mind about the first night is that I lost my room key—which could have been my own damn fault considering I was, essentially, a zombie.”
“Really?”
“Really. But, Soph, I’ve been noticing you like crazy ever since.” He pushed her hips down so there was no way she could miss exactly how much he was noticing her at the moment. “You make me stand up and take notice. And not just because of all these mind-boggling curves wrapped in silk and lace—though I’m certainly not complaining. Your honesty, your sense of adventure, the way you can’t turn down a dare…those things grabbed my attention, and I’ve been captivated ever since.”
Sophie sucked in a breath, and then melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s the nicest thing any man has ever said to me.”
The feel of her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples drilling into him through the skimpy bra, the stirring little hitch in her voice—it all had a predictable effect on him. He eased back and brought his lips down on hers, taking almost savage satisfaction in the way hers instantly parted and her tongue darted into his mouth to mate with his. Her hungry moan only added fuel to the fire.
Seducing an angry Sophie had its merits, and he’d reveled in every second of her reluctant capitulation, but keeping up with cooperative—hell, enthusiastic—Sophie unleashed a whole new level of need. Watching her shed her inborn reserve, her inhibitions, enthralled him in a way nothing else ever had. Or ever will, a fatalistic voice in the back of his mind added.
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