by R.S. Grey
I think he’ll stop propelling me forward now that we’re out here alone, but he keeps right on prodding me along until he yanks open a door he seems to find satisfactory. It opens into an auxiliary storage room filled with linen and folded tables and spare chairs. The lights are out, but he flips a switch and we’re coated in dull yellow light.
Then he pushes me inside before him.
“What—what in the world?! Why’ve you gone and stuffed us into a broom closet?”
Chapter Fifteen
Candace
“Because there were hundreds of people in that room and it probably wasn’t a good idea to greet you the way I want to. Not while they all watch.”
My eyes go wide as he steps near me, crowding my space.
“Right, well, say your hello and then we can—”
He lifts his hand to the base of my chin and tilts it up with his pointer finger. I go absolutely silent as he stares down at me, taking his time as his gaze drops from my face, lower, over my dress, eating me up.
“You look stunning,” he says, his eyes still on the shimmery silver fabric covering my body.
“Th-thanks. Kat and Yasmine convinced me to wear this. I thought it was a bit much.”
“Oh, it definitely is.”
My lip trembles. “You don’t like it?”
His dark eyes whip back up to my face. “I didn’t say that.”
Then he takes a step closer and his hips touch mine. My body softens instantly, like I’ve been waiting days for the moment I’d feel him against me like this. Clearly, he’s been anxiously waiting for this too, because he’s not acting decent at all. Dragging me in here, pinning me up against the wall—the nerve!
“Are you going to kiss me?” I whisper as his head starts to descend.
Instead of answering me, his lips capture mine.
It’s like I’ve just been struck by a bolt of lightning, all that electricity zapping through me as he kisses me harder. I drop my clutch on the floor so my hands can slide up to the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, and I hold on to him there as I rise up onto my toes. My high heels don’t do enough, not since he’s so bloody tall.
His hands find my hips and then he skims them back and around, touching my bare skin underneath the thin straps holding my dress in place. His touch is fire, and I respond like a pyromaniac, wanting to set us both aflame.
I grip his lapels harder as his hands slide across my skin and press against my lower back, bringing me against him. Our bodies are flush and hot and the longer we kiss, the less I can think straight. He’s too good at this, dismantling me so that I’m nothing more than my baser needs. His kiss is the only lifeblood I need. He sustains me with it, not letting up even when I start to feel lightheaded.
His hands lead me further toward darkness as he slides back around to my front, then lower, between my legs, up and inside the slit that keeps the two parts of my dress together. I’m staring down the barrel of the gun as his fingers slide over my panties. And then his finger is on the trigger.
Wet. The word rattles me as he brushes me there. Again.
I shiver and push him away, hard.
I blink my eyes open, and I know this idea I just concocted is wild. I know…but well, this dress is giving me quite a lot of courage, and the last time we fooled around, I was the lucky one. It’s only fair that this time it should be him. I want to drive him mad. I want to provide him with an image that racks through his brain the rest of the evening, so I ignore him when he protests the fact that I’ve broken off our kiss. He even steps closer and tries to grip my chin and seal his mouth on mine again, but I tut like he’s being naughty then lock eyes with him as I start to get down on my knees. My chin slips from his fingers and his eyes go molten. He knows what I’m after, and there’s no going back now. A woman only kneels down in front of a man for one reason, and it’s not to surrender. It’s to wage war.
“Candace,” he murmurs breathlessly, his voice heavy with lust as my hands glide down his tuxedo-clad thighs.
The cold concrete bites into my knees as I settle in place, but what’s a little discomfort compared to the look on Logan’s face right now? I’m not even touching him, not yet, and already I’ve won. Poor guy.
“You look really handsome tonight,” I say, my hands drifting up higher, toward the noticeable bulge in his trousers. I skim around it like a tease, and he hisses in a sharp breath as my fingers fall on the black button. I shift it out of the hole then reach for the zipper. It slides down with no effort at all, and then his trousers slip down his toned hips enough that I can reach my hands inside and start tugging down his boxer briefs.
My mouth waters as my fingers brush over his hard length.
This is so, so wrong.
We’re at a gala! We’re in a supply closet at a gala!
But there’s no stopping me, not when I look up and see the way Logan is staring down at me, like I’m not quite real, like this is all a dream. It gives me the courage to close my hand around him and start to slide it up then pump back down, harder and faster, again and again.
He groans deep and low, and I know he’s going mad. I lean in close to brush my lips over his hardness and then his hand falls on my hair, tangling in the strands. Just like that, he’s mine, utterly lost in my mouth as I take him deeper.
My lips tighten around him and my hand keeps pumping and Logan’s eyes flutter closed then blink open quickly, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of what I’m doing to him. Our gazes connect and there’s a transfer of emotion, like he’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t make out exactly what it is. I’m too scared to let the full weight of it sink into me. So, I use my mouth and my tongue and my lips and let my body do all the talking.
He whispers my name and then his hips start to pump forward, harder, taking back a little control. I ease up and let him, and now the tables have turned. He’s using me now, and all the uncomfortable sensations come flooding in: my aching jaw, the cold concrete, the burning desire to suck in a deep breath of air. I’m almost at my tipping point, close to tapping out—but then his hand soothes my hair and my eyes find his again and I see the emotion there. The adoration and the need, pure and simple. He’s so close so I dig a little deeper, ignoring the ache, and choose to stay down on my knees in this closet, letting him use my mouth, knowing he loves it, knowing ultimately, I’m responsible for that look on his face right now. Then, finally, when I’m desperate for air, he jerks forward and his body shakes with uncontrolled surges as he finishes. Shattered. Done. So am I.
We stay silent, gulping in breaths. It’s like we’ve both been stuck under water for too long and we’re trying to recover, attempting to piece ourselves back together. My heart starts to calm, but I still feel like a wreck when he helps me stand.
The high has burned off, and now I’m left feeling like I can’t possibly go back out in public without everyone realizing what we’ve just done.
For some insane reason, tears burn the edges of my eyes, and maybe it’s just the fact that all my emotions seem to be living right on the surface lately, or maybe it’s the feeling of wrongdoing falling heavy on my shoulders.
Logan settles me back on my feet and hugs me close, wrapping his arms around me so I’m totally sheltered from the world. We don’t say a word for a long time as he holds me. I breathe in his cologne and try to pretend we’re completely alone, in a vacuum of our own making.
But then a jazz band starts to play out in the main hall, and even in our supply closet, we hear it.
Logan pulls back and holds me at arm’s length.
I arch a brow at him, and his solemn expression starts to lessen. He shakes me back and forth, trying to tease a smile out of me, and eventually, I relent. Then, he tugs a handkerchief from his front pocket and passes it over to me. I use it to dab at the corners of my eyes then fold it over to wipe around my mouth.
“I could use a shower.”
“I think there’s a bathroom just around the corner.”
I groan. “Do I look like I’ve just given a blow job?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You look as sexy as you did when I first dragged you in here.”
“You’re biased. You’ve just had a lovely time, so nothing quite matters. Be truthful—do I look like a mess?”
He tugs me toward him and kisses my hair. “I promise you look fine, but I’ll lead you to the bathroom so you can see for yourself.”
Then he picks up my clutch and passes it over so I can tuck it under my arm, and we start to head for the door. He opens it and pokes his head out. I laugh at how ridiculous he looks, like he’s on some sort of reconnaissance mission. A regular secret agent.
“The coast is clear,” he tells me, taking my hand and pulling me out after him. We close the door and walk out into the hall, and just like that, we’re two normal people attending the gala once again.
My cheeks go red, though, just knowing I look a fright. I see the door for the loos up ahead and practically bolt for it.
“I’ll be in there! Don’t bother waiting for me—I’ll probably be a while.”
“All right, I’ll go get us drinks.”
I wink then push through the door. It’s blessedly empty and cold, but I don’t bother looking at my reflection yet. It’ll only depress me. I do my business in the stall and rearrange my dress so it sits where it’s meant to. Then I walk out to the sink, take a deep breath, and lift my gaze.
Oof.
My lipstick is smeared round my mouth. I look like I belong in a striped circus tent, and the damage doesn’t end there. My hair is standing on end in a few places, from where Logan was gripping me to keep me where he wanted. He really did a number on me. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are a bit glassy.
Fragile. I look fragile.
I groan and grab a load of paper towels to carefully dab off my smeared lipstick, without ruining even more of my makeup. Then I toss them and start to finger-comb my hair. It’s sort of useless, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m still going at it when the door opens and Melody strolls in. She sees me and jumps in shock.
“I know you!”
I smile. “Oh, err…hello there. Yeah, I’m Candace.”
She narrows her eyes in thought as if trying to place me, and then she smiles. “Right! Candace. You were the waitress at that bar we went to the other night.”
“Right-o,” I say with a little shrug of my shoulders. “District. And you’re one of Logan’s friends.”
“Well, more than friends.” Then she sort of claps a hand over her mouth and rolls her eyes. “Forget I said that. God, being with someone in the public eye is so complicated.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, voice weak.
“It can be so tricky dealing with our public image. It’s one way behind closed doors”—she waggles her eyebrows suggestively—“and another way in the public. You have to play it cool all the time.”
I can feel the color start to drain from my face. I’m a pale ghost as she steps closer and takes a spot at the sink beside mine. She starts to fuss with her appearance, but there’s no need. She’s flawless.
“What are the odds I’d bump into you like this? Here of all places.” She laughs as our eyes meet in the mirror. “Are you involved with Feeding America?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, actually.”
“Oh, so you must have come as someone’s date? Who is it? I might know them. This town is smaller than you think,” she says, giving me a big smile.
And worse, the smile seems genuine.
And if she’s being genuine…
She’s still waiting for me to respond to her question. I blink and try to come up with something. It’s not like I can tell her I was waiting here for Logan, not after what she’s claimed, so I give her a real truth.
“Myself. I came by myself.”
“Oh? Good for you! This cause is so important to me, so I’m always happy to see a packed event. I bet we’ll raise a lot of money tonight.”
“Yeah…I hope so.”
“Did you manage to avoid the red carpet on your way in?” she asks with a little groan, as if red carpets are the bane of her existence.
“Just about. I came early.”
She sets her clutch on the counter and opens it so she can reach in for her mobile.
“I wish I had thought to do the same, but with Logan, there’s no way to avoid it. Let me look—I bet they’ve already started posting pictures.” Then she laughs at what she sees on her screen. “God, those photographers work fast!”
She turns the mobile so I can see what she’s looking at. It’s a photo on Twitter, an image of her standing beside Logan as they both smile for the cameras. The room goes hazy as my eyes focus in on an image I wish weren’t real: Melody and Logan side by side on the red carpet, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder. She looks completely gorgeous.
My first instinct is to assume it’s an old photo—I want it to be old or fake or something—
but then rationality sets in. Gotham Hall is in the background, behind them. Melody is wearing the dress she’s got on right now. Logan is wearing the exact tuxedo he had on as I slid down to my knees to give him a blow job a few minutes ago.
I feel sick, truly. My stomach rolls, and nausea threatens the back of my throat. Melody looks at me like she’s deeply concerned as I pull myself together in an effort to keep my embarrassment to a minimum. I have no idea what’s going on, but I know I don’t like it.
“Are you okay?” she asks, reaching her hand out to touch my arm.
I flinch away then grimace at how awkward I’m being. I force myself to glance up at her face, and I ask her a question I’m dying to know the answer to. “Are you and Logan dating?”
The edge of her mouth rises then and she rolls her eyes. “You know how it is. We haven’t gone public. We’re not officially anything, at least not on paper. He’d deny it if you asked him because he’s so ridiculously private about his life. He doesn’t want it getting out to the press.”
He’d deny it if you asked him.
“But you’re his date tonight?” I prod, trying to pin down the truth.
She looks thoroughly confused, as if I’ve got a few screws loose. “Are you sure you’re all right? Should I call someone for help? You look kind of sick all of a sudden.”
I glance at my reflection and sure enough, she’s right.
“Bad, um…champagne, I guess. I’m just going to get some fresh air. I’ll see you out there, yeah?”
And then I grab my clutch and rush out of the bathroom like my life depends on it.
Out in the hall, I try to force myself to calm down. I can’t breathe, not properly anyway. I press my hand against my chest and wonder if these are the initial signs of a heart attack, but no, I realize—these are the initial signs of betrayal.
I consider leaving right then and there. The side hall rounds toward the front of the building, and I could be out on the curb in a few minutes, free from this hell—but I have to talk to Logan. I have to get his side and be mature about this, even though Melody seemed honest and sweet. Even though she had that photo of them arriving together. Even though they look like they’d make the most perfect couple…I have to hear it from Logan’s lips.
I force myself back into the main hall, and it takes me bloody ages to find him. Now that the gala has really gotten underway, the walkways are thick with bodies and I’m annoyed that no one’s sitting in their seats yet. They’re milling about trying to talk to anyone and everyone they can get their hands on. They want to schmooze and network and do whatever the hell else it is rich people do at galas other than donating to the cause at hand.
An event photographer steps close and snaps a photo of the group beside me, the flash momentarily blinding me.
Bloody brilliant!
I push past him and toss back an apology afterward, and then finally, I spot Logan talking with Darius and a few other guys. They’re standing in a thick group, talking and laughing, an
d suddenly there’s a lead weight in my stomach, keeping me from going over to him.
It’s the last thing I want to do, confront this issue. I want to run for the hills and lick my wounds in private, but I have to know what wounds I’ve got. I’m still utterly confused about what’s actually going on. Did he really arrive here with her? After telling me I had to come early? What the hell is going on?
With trepidation, I make my way toward him. He doesn’t see me even when I’m right on them because I’m so much shorter than the rest of the group. I bet they’re all professional athletes, the lot of them.
I tap him on his shoulder, and when he turns around to face me, his eyes light up with excitement.
“There you are,” he says with a smile, though he doesn’t reach out to touch me and now I’m not sure why. Is it because he doesn’t want Melody to see? “I was going to get us drinks and I got sidetracked by these guys.”
“Could we speak for a minute?” I ask with a shaky voice, aware that his friends are all looking over at me with curious expressions. Some of them probably remember me as the girl in the pool at his party. How embarrassing. I’ll bet they’re wondering what I’m doing here, and I can’t blame them. After all, I’m doing the same.
Logan frowns and turns to lead me away from the group. “Sure. What’s going on?”
I wait until we’re out of earshot of his friends before turning to him and coming right out with it. “Um, this is sort of awkward. But, well…did you come here tonight with Melody?”
His smile immediately falls and his dark brows furrow. “Crap. I meant to warn you about that. Listen, out on the red carpet, Darius and Liz arrived with Melody. We took pictures as a group and then Darius and Liz stepped away. I was about to step away as well, but Melody put her hand on my shoulder and I didn’t want to cause a scene or anything, so I stood there for a second before walking away. They only took that one photo before I moved away from her.”