by Kira Blakely
I heated all over again. God, this is bad.
“So,” Logan said and ate a devil wedge himself. He didn’t break a sweat – of course, he didn’t, he was the ball busting billionaire. His soul and likely his very cells were deadened to pain.
“So?”
“What do you do for a living? I’d like to know more about the woman I rescued.”
“I’m not usually the damsel type,” I said and tried for evasion. This topic skirted too close to my problem, and soon to be his problem.
“Then tell me what you are?” He tilted his head to the side, his dark locks falling across a forehead with its fine lines, a roadmap of memory, maybe. Or just a roadmap of every shit event in his life. Either way. “I’m guessing… hmm… I’m guessing you’re an actress. Were you meeting a director at that pub?”
“An actress?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What kind of actress would meet a director at a rundown pub?”
Humor danced at the corners of his lips. They twitched upward, and the smile, oh my holy god, the smile. It was devilish and perfect, and so totally not what I wanted. Maybe what you need.
“Not an actress?” He ate another wedge, languid in his motions. “Then what? I’m puzzled, and I’ll admit I like a good mystery.”
“You and me both,” I said, before I could stop my idiot mouth.
He quirked an eyebrow.
“I’m a writer,” I said. That part was true.
Logan froze, studied me from top to toe in that undressing manner. Shivers chased down my spine. His shoulders were so broad, like they’d carry the weight of the world, but that wasn’t what got me about him.
He’d looked out for me back at the bar, though he could’ve turned away, and now, he’d fed me – always a way to a girl’s heart. Never mind all the steely glares and the sheer, raw power and the –
“What kind of writer?”
“Novelist,” I choked it out, then grabbed a napkin and dabbed my lips. “Sorry,” I managed. “I’m on fire. Excuse me while I run to the ladies room.” I lurched out of my seat and strode off across the polished parquet flooring, toward the archway which led into the hallway of the resort’s main building.
I needed privacy. I needed to breathe.
I made it to the alcove next to a potted plant before I dragged my cellphone out of my handbag and dialed. It rang three times, then clicked off.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, Mom. Pick up.” I redialed. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart beating a mile a minute.
The phone rang and then… “Hello? Sweets, is that you?”
“Mom,” I whispered. “Thank god. Why didn’t you answer your phone? I was worried sick.”
“Sorry, I just got in from HQ,” she replied and cleared her throat. “Well? Are you there? Have you met him? How did it go?”
“I’m here.”
“Jinx?”
“I’m here,” I said, again. “I’m here with him. Something happened that wasn’t part of the plan, but I’m okay and I’m with him now. I just… Mom, I really want to do this. I want us to be safe, but this doesn’t feel right. I can’t—”
“Honey, I know. I know, I know, this is a horrible situation, but we’ve got to be real here. If we don’t do what they want, it’s over for both of us. The magazine goes under, they do god knows what to our house, they take everything we love and, I hate to say it, but these men, they’re dangerous. They’ll do more than just burn the business. They’ll… they’ll—”
“Don’t say it,” I whispered, and turned my back to the hall, pressed my forehead to the wall next to a painting of palm trees and white sands. “Mom, it’s all I can think about. I’m really worried about you there, alone.”
“You wouldn’t let me go out there to do the article, hon, remember? This was your choice. Just do what it takes. Get the inside scoop. Stay as close to him as possible. I mean, the closer you get to the truth, and the quicker you do it, the sooner you get to come back and this will all be over. The threat will be gone.”
“I know,” I said, but for the millionth time, I couldn’t fathom why it had to be us, why these bastards had come to our paper rather than any of the other business-centered magazines in New York. We were an authority, yeah, and one of the most popular, but it still blew.
I inhaled and forced the air out through my nose. “Just be safe, okay? Don’t open the door for any strangers and if this guy, Marino, calls you just… I don’t know, just tell him everything’s going according to plan. I’ll write the exposé. I’ll do whatever he wants.”
“No one’s called,” Mom replied, but there was a lie in her voice, and it made my hair stand on end. “And I’m perfectly safe. I’ve got Butch here, remember? Say ‘hello’ darling.” Butch, Mom’s golden retriever, barked happily in the background and let out a whine.
“Hello Butch,” I said.
“Who’s Butch?” Logan’s voice sliced right through my conversation.
“I’ve got to go,” I whispered, then hung up the phone. I swiveled slowly, faced the man who towered in the hallway, even bigger now that he was free of the confines of the restaurant.
“Do you usually eavesdrop on people’s conversations?” I asked.
“You were facing a wall talking to yourself. I was concerned.”
“I see I’ve made an awesome first impression on you. You think I’m clinically insane.” I slipped the cell phone back into my clutch and clipped that shut. “I – I’ve got to thank you, Mr. Wright. I don’t know if I did it properly before, but thank you for helping me tonight. I’d better get going back to my hotel, though.”
“Name?”
“Huh?”
“The hotel. What’s its name?”
“The Fuego,” I replied.
“Yeah, no, you’re not going back to that side of town,” he said. “You’ll stay here. I’ve got a bungalow with two rooms.”
“Why?” I asked.
He blinked at me. “So I can lure you back to it.”
“That’s not funny,” I replied.
“Are you sure? It sounded funny in my head.”
Finally, I laughed, and the weight which’d sat on my chest loosened.
“It was the only place they had left,” he replied, after a beat. “So, what do you say? Want to sleep in my bungalow? You can have the bigger room.”
“How generous of you,” I said, and it was only a little sarcastic.
“I’m a generous guy,” he replied and held out his arm. “The choice is yours, damsel.”
Chapter 3
Logan
I guided Katie down the gravel path toward the bungalow, burning for her and for closure on the business I’d come here for. The island was my neutral zone where old debts could be settled.
What good was this place with this level of distraction around? I couldn’t turn back now, fuck, a part of me wanted nothing more than to keep this woman safe. She needed me, she wanted to stay the night, even if it was in another room.
“It’s beautiful here,” Katie said and came to a halt. She stared out at the ocean, the moon gibbous above it and clouds scudding across the inky sky. “’Breathtaking’ is probably a better word for it.”
“You’re the writer,” I replied.
“Do you come here often? To the island, I mean?”
“Not often, no. Only when it’s absolutely necessary,” I said and moved closer to her side. There were bushes along the edges of the pathway, and palm trees further along. Anyone could be watching. “We should get inside.”
“Why?” She looked up at me. “I highly doubt those dudes from the bar followed us all the way out here.”
I stalled. I wasn’t accustomed to questions. I’d been in business so long, as an owner and as a creator, that I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone question my motives. My last girlfriend? Fuck, that’d been years ago, and she’d been more interested in my bank balance than what I had to say. That hadn’t been a heartbreak, not compared to the very first love a
nd the last.
“Mr. Wright?”
“Logan,” I said, and guided her down the path again, past the brush and the gloom punctuated by little lights along the path. The shape of my bungalow came into view—a low slung building with lights on behind the blinds against the sliding glass door—and my breathing slowed.
She’d be safe here. She’d be fine. Why do you care? This was different. It was instinctual, as if she was constantly under threat even though it was me who was knee deep in shit.
I unlocked the door, pushed it open up for her, and then followed her inside.
Katie stopped in her tracks, eyes round as saucers. “Well,” she said, “this is… er… nice.”
“I should hope it’s ‘er… nice.’ It cost enough,” I replied, and smiled at her. I locked the door, shut the blinds again, and then walked past the duck’s-egg-blue sofa, across the polished wood flooring to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“If you promise not to spike it,” she replied, then shook her head, her strawberry blonde locks shaking back and forth and a sheepish grin stretching across her lips. “Sorry, that was in poor taste.”
“Not for me. It wasn’t my drink that was spiked,” I said. “Water? Coffee?”
“Just a water will be fine, thank you.” She swayed across the floor and rested her hip against the side of the sofa, resting her palm on it. “This place must have an awesome view during the day. Is there a reason you keep the blinds closed?”
“It’s not the day,” I said and left it at that. She didn’t need to know that it was my little hideout, and that flying incognito was second nature to me. It would likely make her suspicious and I didn’t want that because… well, shit, because she was a beautiful woman, the first in a long time who’d peaked my interest.
“Right.” She drew the word out, her fingers trailing to the top of her dress. She gave it a tug, lifting it higher and concealing more of her cleavage, even as her flesh jiggled from the movement.
I stood with my hand on the bar fridge’s door, my head throbbing. Not the one held up by my neck, either. This was big, big fucking trouble.
“Um,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you think I could get that water now? Unless… you don’t want me to stay here? I’m fine with going back to the Fuego. I can call a cab from the front desk or—”
“No, I don’t want you to leave. I was just distracted by you.” God knows why I’d told her that. Possibly because I had a shitty habit of telling everyone the truth no matter the consequences. It was the no-bullshit part of me. And it made hiding things all the more difficult.
“What?” Katie blinked those sapphire gems my way.
“Distracted by you,” I repeated, and finally tugged the water bottle out of the fridge. I kicked the door shut and strode up to her, halting a foot away and held the water out. “Here.”
“Thank you,” she said and took it from me. Our fingertips brushed and she inhaled sharply, her chest swelling outward, presenting those tits again. They strained against the fabric of that cocktail dress and my dick throbbed and rolled over.
Not good. Not yours. Not yet, at least.
She unscrewed the cap of the bottle and drank some of it. This time, she didn’t spill any, and thank god for that. If she had, I’d have been tempted to lick the water from her neck, suckle her flesh and— I cut the thoughts off sharply. “You’ll want to see your room,” I said.
Katie finished her torturously long drink and nodded. “That would be great, thank you. Seriously, this is so generous of you. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of bum. I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow, all right?”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, and turned before she caught a glimpse of my dick, straining at my suit pants. I’d have to get rid of this before the end of the night. It would call for a trip to the bathroom.
I led Katie down the hall, past my room, the bathroom, and to the second bedroom, technically the first. I’d taken the smaller room upon my arrival, just because it was cozier and had fewer windows. Fewer chances to be spied on.
“Here it is,” I said, and focused on my breathing. No dice. My cock was still hard as a fucking rock for this woman. I opened the door, kept my back to her, and caught a view of the bed, its sheets pristine and white, the pillows puffy on the four poster.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “Thank you, Logan. I appreciate it.”
I envisioned her thanking me for an orgasm instead of the room. Stop it, for fuck’s sake. “It’s no trouble. The bathroom’s right next door. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine,” Katie replied, right behind me. Her presence was agony. “I’m just going to flop into bed and sleep. I’ll see you in the morning and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
I didn’t say a word but stepped aside.
She brushed past me and trailed that sweet scent of perfume—tropical, coconutty—and entered the room. Katie turned and smiled at me. Thankfully, her gaze didn’t dip lower than my chin. I didn’t want to weird her out. “Goodnight, Logan.”
“Goodnight, Jinx,” I replied.
She flushed bright red, pleasure for sure, then shut the door.
I stood there a minute longer, breathing hard, and gripped the front of my pants, the hard, thick rod underneath. Fuck. Fucking holy crap. What the hell? I’d never had a reaction like this to anyone.
It had to be the sass. The back and forth between us. And that dress. Those heels. Hot damn.
Either way, I needed to take a shower and cool down before I popped a damn gasket. Whacking off down the hall from her appealed to me. But it was also the move of a fucking creeper, and I wasn’t that.
I had some measure of self-control.
I strode down the hall to the bathroom, opened the door, and stepped inside—my brain numb, my muscles tensed to steel. I growled low in my throat.
Katie stood in the center of the bathroom, next to the glass door of the massive shower. Behind her, another entryway led into the guestroom. Christ, I’d totally forgotten that her room adjoined to it.
I couldn’t form words. I traced the lines of her supple body.
Pale flesh, pink, taut nipples, perky tits. She was toned as if she worked out, a cinched waist, curved at the hips, strong thigh muscles, and there was a small neat thatch of strawberry blonde pubic hair between her legs—a landing strip.
Katie’s gaze was latched onto mine. Her jaw had dropped, but she didn’t scream, didn’t move. Slowly, her eyes shifted downward. She spotted my dick, still gripped in my right hand, pressing against the fabric of my pants.
She let out a tight, soft moan.
Chapter 4
Katie
So, this was what it was like to spontaneously hyperventilate. And this was what it was like to want a man more than air. Holy shit.
The last time I’d been this turned on was… never. Fucking never.
My last relationship had fallen by the wayside because I’d been focused on the magazine, the family business, and… the guy? He’d never awakened any such excitement in me.
I was frozen, pulsing for Logan, and standing naked in front of him.
He held his cock—holy hell it was huge—through his pants and stared at me. Each shift of his gaze, from my nipples to my stomach to my pussy, brought a shiver from me. This was totally unreasonable, unwarranted, and god I wanted nothing more than for him to stride across the space separating us, across these cold tiles, and take me hot up against the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind me.
You’re not here for this. You can’t get attached. Remember the danger. Remember why you have to do this. If you don’t, Mom will wind up in trouble, and there will be—
Logan took a single step toward me and erased all the frantic thoughts. I desperately attempted to cling to sanity before it was swiped away from me.
I wasn’t this girl. I wasn’t the woman who fell into a stranger’s arms, let alone a stranger on whom I
had to write an exposé, regarding whom I’d been sent to gather information under penalty of doom.
But I couldn’t fucking move. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to.
What would it be like to put myself first for once? Not the magazine, not everyone else’s needs, but my own?
Another step and I shuddered on the spot, shifting my legs. My nipples puckered, and I didn’t cover them.
Logan was a beast by the light of the wall sconces. Dark-haired and steely-eyed, his cock was tearing at his pants, begging for release, for me. He unhooked his belt, gauging my reaction to him.
The heat built, the silence buzzing with unspoken words.
Finally, the tension snapped.
“I want you,” I said, and barely recognized my voice—husky, smooth, brimming over with desire.
Logan charged across the space which separated us and caught me in his arms. One hand slid down my spine, the other held the back of my neck. His body pressed against mine, hard, hot, his dick between us.
“Katie,” he growled, and I leaned into him, losing my breath. I was literally dripping for this man and couldn’t think straight. The bathroom hazed around us.
I swept my hands up his chest, over his buttoned shirt and the tight muscles beneath it, breathing in his cologne—spicy, amber, and as powerful as he was.
Logan brought his lips down to mine, and I fucking dissolved into a puddle of nothingness.
His mouth was hot, his tongue probed mine, massaged and teased. He deepened the kiss and slipped his hands to my ass, lifted me from the floor.
I looped my legs around his waist, moaned into his mouth. I was on fire for him, burning for more. I worked my pussy against the front of his pants, and he growled again.
“Fuck,” he said, against my lips, and walked me backward, slammed me up against the mirror. Logan reached between us and unzipped, drew his thickness out and pressed it against my wet lips. His tip was massive, and I sucked in a breath, kissed him again.
This man was huge. Everything about him overwhelmed me, wiped my brain clean of thought and reason. He worked his hips back and forth, sliding his shaft against my quivering hole, then dragging it back and slapping it against my clit.