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Logan answers anyway. “You know what I am.”
He means a monster. Hedoesn’ttrust himself… but I do. I want him, and I’m not afraid of him. I just need to show him that. To prove to him what I already know. That hecanbe trusted, at least with me.
“Logan,” Dante starts from behind me. “You—”
I shake my head, grateful when Dante backs off. Then I hold out my hand to Logan. “Give me your knife.”
My nipples pebble with the memory of the way he ran it over my skin when we were intimate before.
He looks confused for a moment, and I lightly stroke the scar he left between my breasts.
“Give me your knife, Logan,” I repeat in a gentler voice, hoping he can see everything I’m feeling on my face.
He should. He’s observant like that. Now I just need him to believe it.
He hesitates for another moment, then finally holds it out to me.
“Sit,” I say without taking the knife from him.
His eyes narrow a little, no doubt balking at any hint of not being the one in control, but he’s already trusted me this far, and a visceral thrill goes through me he trusts me with this part too.
He sits, and I lean closer, taking his hand and guiding it up so the knife rests against my throat.
I hold it there, the blade biting at my skin like it’s made of the same darkness that he and I share, and crawl onto his lap.
Logan instantly stiffens, flinching backward… but taking care, just like I knew he would, not to let the knife break my skin.
“I know you have the control not to hurt me if you don’t want to,” I tell him, my pulse tripping. Not with fear, but with arousal. “You’re the most precise person I know. You don’t ever do anything by accident. Do you want to hurt me?”
He hesitates. “No.”
“Then you won’t,” I promise in a throaty whisper, knowing that we both understand what’s been left unspoken.
Hehashurt me.
And I’ve liked the pain.
But the kind I need, the kind he enjoys dominating me with, isn’t what we’re talking about here.
Logan silently holds my gaze, something throbbing in the air between us, but he still doesn’t move. He still hesitates, even as his body reacts to me.
I can see how torn he is, at war with himself and his demons, but they’re not going to win. This isn’t a war he gets to fight alone. Not when I know that none of his self-doubt is justified. Not with me.
“You won’t hurt me,” I repeat, starting to grind against him as his brothers’ cum drips out of me, soaking into the rough denim of his jeans. “Not in any way I don’t want you to.”
Logan’s eyes flare and his cock hardens even more beneath me, the tendons in his wrist going taut beneath my fingers.
My breath hitches in my throat, and I moan as I roll my hips against him a little faster, feeling it in my thighs after riding Dante so hard but not letting that stop me. Not when Logan feels so good.
“Logan,” I whisper, touching him because I need to. I release his wrist and trail my fingers up his arm, skimming them over his firm chest and then dragging them down his sternum, stopping to hover just above his waistband.
I half expect him to stop me.
I desperately want him to kiss me.
I wait for the knife to waver, for his barely leashed control to snap, for all that coiled intensity brewing inside him to break.
Instead, he finallymoves, lifting his other hand to the back of my head and gripping it tight.
