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Logan dragged in a breath. Saturday had been the beginning of his hell. He grabbed her hand when she jabbed again and flattened it against his chest. “Please, can’t you just
take it for what it was?”
“I tried.” She pulled her hand away. “I was getting over you, dammit.” She paced away from him, walking the length of his living room and dining room before turning around. “I hate you for how hard it was to get over you. But I was doing it.”
Acid flooded his chest and gut. He could just curl into himself and hold all that burning pain. A bigger part of him wanted to gather her into his chest and tell her that he’d never intended to hurt her. He didn’t want his ugly life to touch her.
Her heels clicked over his floor and her hips swayed in that way that happened when a woman wore heels. No matter the level of anger coming off of her he couldn’t ignore the power and passion of her. His body missed her like oxygen. As if it was just coming out of the stasis he’d been living in.
He was starving for her.
He tried to build up all the walls he’d been fortifying, but they were crumbling with each step she took toward him.
“But then I saw this woman in an airport. You know that feeling you get when you see someone you’ve seen before, but you can’t place it? That awful feeling that crawls up your spine when you see that person again in a space they just shouldn’t be in.”
Logan dropped his arms to his sides and fisted his hands. He knew that feeling. He’d felt it a million times before when a fan crossed over from sweet and fun, to the watch list. Even before Aimee, he’d known that feeling all too well.
He lifted his chin, but didn’t answer her.
“I’ve been on over fifteen business trips this month alone. I chased this woman through an airport newsstand because something was off about her.” Izzy swiped her hand over her mouth and shook her head with a mirthless laugh. “She’s good. I thought I was going crazy at first, but then there was no denying that I’d caught her trying to change her look so I wouldn’t find her.” She tipped her head back. “It was like a scene from an action movie. The straight to streaming video kind.” Now her laugh was just a little too close to hysterical.
He steeled himself against going to her.
“Finally she caved. But only because she’d freaked me out so bad I was ready to call out airport security.” She crowded into him. “Because you decided to put an actual bodyguard detail on me. For no reason that I can fathom. Now that I’ve talked to Marcus Roth I know I’m not insane. I’ve seen this woman, Sarah, in more than half a dozen spots. Because she’s been following me for months.” She flattened her hand on his belly and pushed him back a step, but didn’t take her hands off him. “Months, Logan.”
“Izzy…” He cupped the back of her neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Please.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, but didn’t fall. “Tell me why. I knew something was going on back in August, but I just couldn’t—” Her voice broke.
The tears shredded him. She’d come in like a battering ram and his swelling eye could attest to her anger, but now there was just frustrated pain.
And he’d caused it.
Again.
He’d brought nothing but pain to this woman.
So goddamn selfish to have even let her close enough to touch, let alone fall for. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t fall in love in a week, but seeing her there he knew just how thorough a lie he’d told himself.
Her silky dark hair slid around his wrist and fingers and she smelled so damn good. He leaned in and took her mouth. She made a sound that ripped him open. A sob mixed with a moan and then she was plastered to him.
Her arms went up and around his shoulders, her mouth completely fused to his own. He soaked her in. Her taste flooded his senses, exploding behind his eyelids as he dragged her even closer.
He lifted her off her feet and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, scraped up the back of his neck as she bit at his lower lip. He bounced off the archway of the French doors to his room and his shoulder sang with it, but he didn’t care.
She was going to be in his bed.
The wildness of her touch left him desperate. It was echoed in his own as he tugged at her blazer. She arched away from him enough to get one arm out and then the other. It fell to the floor along with her boots.
His knees bumped into the mattress and they fell together. A tumble of arms and legs, cotton and wool, then skin. Nothing but glorious skin as he scraped his teeth up and over her ribs to her lush breasts and tight nipples.
She palmed his cock, encircling the base with that groan-inducing grip that he missed every goddamn night. They rolled over the bed, each of them trying to dominate the other.
He wanted to be over her, to cover her with everything that he was and hope to God he was enough. To beg her to let him be enough.
She flipped him and her coffee-colored hair rained over his face, curtaining them in her drugging jasmine scent. While his hands raced over her back, she panted against his neck and straddled his legs as she took all choice away in the best way possible.
With a strong, sure hand, she guided him inside of her. She stopped when she realized there was no protection. The head of his cock was there at the threshold of the most perfect place on earth, but he stopped and stared up at her.
