Beg for Me

by Natalie Anderson

  Perception.

  Why it was so necessary to go to such lengths? What was the reality beneath if his family had to work so hard to maintain appearances?

  She looked out the window for a few more minutes before giving in to curiosity again. “So what’s it like?”

  “What?”

  “Summerhill.”

  He swiped the iPad screen, bringing up the next page of the article. “It’s a mountain. There’s snow, a resort, spa facilities…”

  It was an exclusive resort that attracted the rich and famous. A place Min was unlikely ever to go to of her own accord. She’d rebelled against the kind of social climbing that her mother was so hell bent on. She didn’t want to try to break into a scene that wasn’t a natural fit for her. But for Logan, this was his home. “Your family lives at the resort?”

  “No,” he answered idly, still focused on his iPad. “The compound is alongside.”

  “Compound?”

  He glanced at her and had the grace to chuckle softly. “That’s what it’s always been called.”

  “What’s that like?” What the hell was a ‘compound’? She had visions of security gates and private pools and personal indoor basketball courts.

  “I don’t know what it’s like anymore.” He angled his head to look past her to the silvery clouds they were flying above. “I’ve not been there in years.”

  “Haven’t you?” She frowned. “What about the ad campaigns?”

  He only modelled for the Summerhill brand, his outdoor wear was all part of the same package.

  “I flew in and out for those. Didn’t stop at the compound. Many were taken in a studio back in New York.”

  “You’re saying they were Photoshopped?” she teased.

  “All modeling campaigns are Photoshopped.”

  “To get the right ‘look’?”

  “Exactly.”

  But his real-life look was unbeatable.

  “You still ski though, right?” Didn’t he come here in his vacation and zip round off-piste or something?

  He didn’t answer.

  “Logan?”

  “No.” He sat back in his seat. “There’s no point.”

  No point? Didn’t he love it? Or had it only ever been about the glory—the winning? As ruthless a competitor as he’d been portrayed, she somehow couldn’t believe that. “You don’t miss it?”

  “If you’re going to do something, you do it the best.”

  What? She narrowed her gaze on him. “So because you’re no longer a national champ, you don’t do it at all?”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re that all or nothing?”

  “Nothing’s worth doing unless you do it well. Unless you’re the best.”

  “The best you can be.” She could agree with that, kind of, in some situations. “You don’t have to be the best in the world.”

  He grinned. But there was a bitter edge to it.

  “It wasn’t ever just fun?” She angled her head to see right into his eyes. “You didn’t love it?” Wasn’t there some feeling of freedom or something that he felt when going that fast down the mountain?

  He shook his head. “It was cold. Why do you think I specialize in merino and warm layers?”

  Was he joking? “You don’t miss it at all?”

  “I want to win in other areas of my life. I have different ambitions. Modeling and all.” He winked.

  She knew he trying to lighten up. Going back to the playful, playboy persona that he did so well. But it was a persona. He had depth, he just chose to keep it hidden. She glanced to his iPad. His different ambitions were business related. His investments. Was it all about making more money? How much did the guy need?

  “Did Connor ski too?” she asked.

  “When he was younger. He never competed at national level.”

  “He didn’t like it?” Had he hated the pressure?

  “He loved it. Still does. That’s why his home is on the mountain.” Logan sighed. “He had an accident. Nearly died. His left leg isn’t as strong. He couldn’t get past it to compete at elite level.”

  “What happened?”

  “Just an accident.” Logan crossed his arm over his chest and rubbed his shoulder. “They’re kinda common on the snow.”

  He glanced at the iPad on his lap, couldn’t remember what he’d been reading. But he didn’t want to remember the scene flashing in his head now. That crimson on white. Connor crying. Logan trying to get help.

  Logan alone. Leaving Connor even more alone.

  “He’s okay though,” he added roughly. “He still heads up there anytime the powder’s fresh.”

  After that accident, even when still a kid, Connor had been groomed for the company and hadn’t that turned out to be the best thing. Connor was brilliant at it. Too brilliant. Because he’d discovered his father’s other secrets. The shoddy advice. The business sleaze. But Connor had called him on it. Connor had cleaned it up and privately ousted his father. This public ‘handover’ now was purely a marketing ploy. They’d ensure that none of those questionable dealings would become public.

  “Your parents must have freaked when you had your accident,” said Min.

  Damn, didn’t she know to leave it alone? His accident was nothing compared to Connor’s. His accident had been the result of a reckless, last effort to win. He hadn’t been wounded that badly—not physically.

  “I don’t know.” He snapped the cover over the iPad. “And I don’t care.”

  He shouldn’t be saying that to Ms ‘Let’s Put Everything on Social Media’. Yet here he was, spilling the truth he’d never told another soul. “I don’t give a damn about how they felt.”

  But his father had sure made his thoughts known. It was the final straw, forcing Logan’s decision to walk away. Finally free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

  So he had.

  Dreading the weekend, he was too pissed off to hold it in the way he should. “I was never going to meet my father’s goals for me.” He leaned his aching head into the soft cushioning of the seat. Nothing he’d achieved had been good enough for Rex. No matter what races he’d won then or what business deals he’d wrangled since. It wasn’t ever enough. So he’d given up seeking that approval, given up being good.

  “I could’ve won it all and it still wouldn’t have been enough,” he said. “I broke my back trying. I failed. Then I quit.”

  He’d always been reckless. Crashing out. Disqualifying by taking one risk too many. Desperation to win had always driven him too hard.

  His coach had despaired, insisted that if Logan would just rein in a bit, he’d have it in the bag. That there was no need for the flair. But the flair was the only thing Logan had liked. He’d liked the danger of being right on the edge—either taking it out, or burning up.

  Because at heart, he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t truly wanted to be there.

  His father had labelled him out of control.

  But no one was out of control like his own father. He just hid it behind a veneer of respectability and authority. At least Logan was honest.

  After Logan’s own accident and secret scandal-laced exit from the ski team, Connor had supported him in creating the adventure clothing brand that had proved to be so popular world-wide. But Logan still didn’t have his father’s endorsement. He never would. And he didn’t want it. Not when the old man was such a cheat himself.

  He realized Min was watching him with a worried expression and forced himself to relax. He slid the iPad back into his bag and reached for the wool blanket the airline provided. “Don’t you hate it how cold these planes get?”

  He unfolded it, throwing it so it fell over her lap as well as his.

  “Why didn’t you say ‘no’ to this weekend?” she asked, ignoring his smile.

  She’d seen how much it bothered him.

  “Because I’m not letting Connor down. Besides,” he pulled a full-flirt smile out. “I wanted to spend the weekend annoying you.”

  He
r chin lifted. “You were doing that j-j-just fine in Manhattan.”

  Too bad. He was doing it more and doing it now.

  He leaned close and gently bit her lower lip, inwardly cheering when he heard her sharp intake of breath. He licked her lip to soothe the sting. He looked into her eyes— saw the green disappearing as passion lit. Irritation. Lust. Desire.

  Yeah, she was the perfect distraction. He wasn’t going to be bothered by his father or any of the mess at all when he had a hot Min to satisfy. And damn if she didn’t take some satisfying.

  “It wasn’t a kiss,” he said, answering the challenge in her eyes.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  No words, and he’d go only so far.

  For the second time in two days he’d indulged in public display of lust, which, after the sex tape, he’d wholly abstained from. But he angled his body, using his broad back to become a kind of barrier between Min and the guy on the other side of the aisle. Pulled the blanket up to cover her. Min in a state of arousal was for his pleasure only.

  Then, beneath the blanket, he slid his hand up her thigh.

  He looked down at her upturned face. Her lips were parted, reddened. So hot. He brushed his lips along her jaw. Loving to feel the faster beat of her pulse as he nipped that vulnerable spot on her neck. He pulled back again, not wanting to be too obvious to the aircrew or other passengers.

  But with his hand beneath the blanket, he explored, sliding up her thigh and over her belly, finding his way beneath her blouse to the lush curves. Her breast was warm. He hated the bra. Had to get rid of it so he could cup her weight in his hand and thumb her nipples. He wanted to feel her writhing against him again the way she had this morning. Out of control, wanting him. He wanted to hold her and feel all that tension ebb from her body after orgasm. She became so soft and pliable and downright snugly. For all of a second.

  He bit back a moan at the thought. He’d make her come and come and come again. It was all he could think about.

  Which frankly was a first. Not that he was selfish, he liked his lovers to come hard, loud and often and he liked nothing more than coming deep inside them. But being entirely focused on Min’s pleasure, on nothing but her pleasure, was oddly satisfying. Now he wanted nothing more than to please her completely—to hear her scream his name in utterly uncontrollable ecstasy.

  He hadn’t made her do that yet. But he would.

  He stroked her now, feeling her respond, hearing her breath quicken, watching her face as avidly as she watched his. Was he as flushed as she was right now? Were his eyes as slumberous? Yet hers still challenged.

  He sure as hell wasn’t cold anymore.

  He spread his fingers as she arched into his hand. He rubbed harder as she bit on her lips. He hated that she held back from him.

  So he worked her harder, caressing, seeking out the tightly budded nipples. Both hands beneath the blanket now. Beneath her blouse, his thumbs working in tandem. But the damn silk and lace was in the way.

  “You’ve ripped my b-b-bra.” Breathless, she sounded scandalised.

  “Take it off.” He wasn’t sorry. She had sensational breasts. Real breasts—soft, warm, he liked to cup them. He wanted to kiss them.

  He chuckled as she wriggled uncomfortably, wrestling with the ribbon and the ripped lace. She stuffed the broken thing into her bag, pulling her blouse away from her body. But there was no hiding the deliciously pointed nipples protruding through the soft fabric. Tantalizing.

  His groin tightened to outright painful. Damn if he hadn’t been sporting a hard-on, ninety-nine percent of the time since he’d laid eyes on her.

  “Stop it.” She glared at him.

  “I’m not doing anything.” He tugged up the blanket to cover her.

  “You don’t have to d-d-do anything,” she mumbled.

  What, he just had to look at her? To be next to her?

  That little admission warmed him more than he’d been warmed in months. “Oh but I do.”

  Soon. Very soon. It was the only way he was going to get through this weekend.

  The fasten seatbelt light flicked on and the steward announced that they were beginning the descent. Logan’s pleasure disappeared. He gritted his teeth. The show was about to begin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  #FamilyTies

  As the plane landed and taxied to the terminal, Min’s panic increased. This was crazy. Giant rock or not, it was so obvious they weren’t suited. But maybe, she realized with a sick feeling, that was the point? Was Logan bringing her because she was going to be a disappointment to his perfectionist family? Had he chosen her precisely because she wasn’t good enough for his father to tolerate? She so wasn’t the kind of woman to fit into this total nightmare scenario. She was the daughter of a social climbing mother who’d been married multiple times. She didn’t wear designer. She didn’t speak beautifully.

  “Stop looking so scared.” Logan laughed as he stood. “I’ll have to kiss you to bring the color back to your cheeks.”

  “You’re not kissing me ‘til I ask, remember?”

  “Not kissing your mouth, no…” he winked.

  “Not there either.” She pulled her blouse away from her skin, aware her breasts were unconstrained. And worse, her nipples were still erect.

  “No,” he agreed, staring at them. “I wasn’t thinking there either.”

  Min was rendered speechless. And not because of her stutter. Her palm itched to give him a swipe. The jerk had probably ripped her bra on purpose, so she’d come stumbling out of the plane looking like he’d just had sex with her. All to preserve the Super-Stud-Logan label.

  But then he reached past her, grabbing the denim jacket and opening it. Encircling her, he held it for her to slide her arms into. As soon as she had, he pulled the lapels close to cover her breasts. She glanced up at him, surprised by his chivalry.

  “They’re mine to enjoy.” He muttered. “Only mine.”

  Oh my. Didn’t that just make her nipples tighten up all the more.

  She heard his chuckle as he took her hand firmly in his and led her towards the plane’s exit. She had the urge to burrow right into his embrace and hide. And apologize to him. Once more he’d proven he wasn’t a fan of the super-stud thing. At least, not the public perception.

  But there was no chance. A crowd waited at the arrivals door. Logan’s grip tightened painfully, but she didn’t mind. It might only be for show, but the support she felt inside was all too real. And maybe he needed the support too? Or was it just that he was worried she was about to run.

  “Logan.”

  A tall man stepped forward to meet them. Leaner than Logan, his eyes were a stronger blue and his hair was all but shaved close to his skull. He didn’t look like the CEO of a company that helped people enjoy their leisure time. He looked more like a hard-edged marine.

  “Welcome back,” he said to Logan in a low voice.

  “Only for you,” Logan muttered. He released Min’s hand and walked into a back-slapping boy hug.

  “I appreciate it.” The tall man stepped back and glanced at her. “You must be Min. I’m Connor, younger brother. Pleasure to meet you.”

  She felt the chill in Connor’s gaze even as she nodded and smiled and hoped she could get away without saying a word. He seemed to be looking right through her which wasn’t a nice feeling. The only time he’d smiled was the moment he and Logan had hugged. While there was definitely a fraternal resemblance, he was missing the wicked angel amusement that danced in Logan’s eyes.

  Logan rubbed his hand over Connor’s stubbled head and chuckled. “Only you would have done this.”

  “You would’ve too if you’d been here.” Connor said, then glanced at Min. “Charity fundraiser,” he explained.

  “Cancer?” Logan queried.

  Connor nodded. “One of the house maid’s kids.”

  “Bet you raised some money.”

  There was the vestige of a wink. Almost a smile.

  “It was
ludicrous. All the women wanted to shave it for him,” a sarcastic feminine voice piped up.

  Logan turned and opened his arms wide. A slim brunette all but disappeared into them.

  When he stepped back, Logan reclaimed Min’s hand. “This is our little sister Danielle.”

  Logan had a sister? How could she not know this? Damn she should have Googled him. For a supposed social media maestro, she was useless. But she’d thought Logan’s file was the easiest gig ever. All she’d had to do was populate his feed with photos of him. More fool her, look what her negligence had gotten her into.

  Now Min stared at the younger woman. At a glance she could see she was a cross between the two brothers. She had Logan’s high cheekbones and angled face, but the deeper blue of Connor’s eyes. And like her brothers, she’d been blessed with a beautiful frame—ultra long limbs and grace.

  “Nice to meet you, Min.” Danielle said briefly.

  “Thanks,” Min answered softly.

  “Who else is coming to the party?” Danielle asked, looking past Logan and Min. “Hunter isn’t coming?”

  “He and Xander are landing tomorrow I think,” Logan said. “Rocco’s shooting for Saturday. But the forecast isn’t good, so I don’t think we can guarantee his appearance.”

  Something flashed in Danielle’s eyes, but it was quickly veiled.

  “We’d better get going, you know they’re waiting.” Connor said brusquely.

  Min didn’t know if Connor meant his parents or the paparazzi.

  Turned out he meant both. Only it wasn’t quite paparazzi, but a paid-for-by-the-family photographer there to capture the reunion in a flattering ‘subject to approval’ fashion. He was waiting further in the concourse.

  “Jeez, Connor, you got Pete Boulder in for photos?” Logan frowned.

  “He’s the best.”

  “He might take nice pictures, but he lacks integrity,” Logan muttered, annoyance obvious. He took Min’s hand in his again. “You should have asked me.”

  Both brothers frowned at each other.

  “Why’s he here now, anyway? Don’t you just need him for the party?” Logan asked.