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“Water clear it up for you any?” He nibbled the lobe of my ear. “I’m not asking for sex. But you’re in my bed.”
Resisting Logan was like stopping a freight train with my hands. “Okay.”
I saw Ream reach for Kat as she climbed out of the pool, snagging her hand. She paused, turned her head and all I saw the unquestionable rawness of hostility.
Ream said quietly, “Why, Kat?”
Kat never said anything, merely pulling away and walked back up to the house. Then Crisis and Kite cannonballed into the water.
Despite the cold water from the pool, I was burning up. There was no denying my attraction to him had catapulted to another level. This wasn’t just love, this was an overwhelming debilitating love that I couldn’t even begin to decipher.
Soul gripping. Fuck, it was complete mind enfolding; not a single thought could be procured without him embraced within it.
Logan showed me to his bathroom upstairs on the third floor. Kat and I had stayed on the main floor since we’d moved onto the farm. It was odd seeing the second floor occupied by the band and third floor by Logan. The rooms had remained unused before the band came except for one on the second floor on the south side. Kat had been using it as an art room; now it was occupied by Crisis, when he stayed here.
The bathroom happened to have all my toiletries laid out; apparently Logan moved them from the downstairs bathroom. He took my hands, held them at my sides, and then bent his head and kissed me.
“When did you …?”
“Texted Kite when you were working with the stallion.” He caressed my cheek then nodded to the right. “Wear the shirt to bed, baby.”
“What?”
He picked up a white button-down men’s shirt. I went to object and tell him I had my own pajamas when he scowled. “Seeing you in my shirt is sweet. And I want sweet tonight.”
Damn it. Stop. Why did he have to say shit like that? I mean what girl didn’t want to hear a guy telling her he wanted her in his shirt. That he wanted sweet and she’d be sweet in his shirt.
My mouth opened then slammed shut as he went over, turning on the taps. Water blasted out of the showerhead. He adjusted the water temperature.
He stood up straight. “You need help taking off those wet clothes?”
I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Out.”
Logan grinned holding up his hands. “Trying to be helpful.”
I let my pursed lips slip, and I smiled. I couldn’t help it, seeing Logan laugh and smile was contagious. “Out. Now.”
Watching Logan casually stride from the bathroom, I admired his ass in wet jeans, the corded muscles on his back visible beneath his white T-shirt clinging to his body like a second skin.
I leaned over and felt the temperature of the water—perfect. Peeling off my clothes, I hung them on the towel rack then stepped under the warm spray.
I washed as fast as I could to avoid the image of Logan that was afflicting me as I ran my hands over my body. I was imagining my touches were his hands on every inch of me.
Everything he’d done, he’d done to save me. To save us.
I was letting him in, and he was letting me in. I was sleeping beside him tonight, and I felt all giddy inside and a little nervous, but it was a good nervous.
I closed my eyes, hands against the wall, the water pounding into my body like he had during my captivity two years ago. His hands had been on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh as he fucked me from behind that day in the shower. His lips nibbled at the crook of my neck as he slowed, sliding in and out. I moaned, then begged for him to go harder, faster as he pulled out, hands wrapping around my hair and yanking my head back so he could take my mouth with a cruel, deep kiss that had my body screaming for more.
He’d been right. He was engraved in me, and no amount of time or washing or running was going to get him out of me. I had to accept that. I did accept that.
I leaned back against the tiles as more memories flooded.
I never heard the door open, nor the dropping of clothes on the floor, still lost in my grip of desire.
Hands cupped my cheeks, and my eyes flew open.
Our eyes locked.
Held.
Desire spiraled around us tying us together. Logan tilted his head, the water pounding down on him as he leaned closer.
I closed my eyes and inhaled him.
He was part of me.
Logan had never left me. And I knew that even if I denied us, I’d never get him out of me. Love didn’t work that way.
“You don’t get to touch that yourself without me.”
I moaned, and that was all it took before his lips crashed down onto mine. Our need was so intense every part of my body ached.
There was nothing sweet in his kiss. His force was bruising, relentless, and he stole my breath. My hands were all over him, gripping, fondling, pulling at his hair one minute then stroking his back the next.
“Emily,” he murmured as his mouth scorched my skin and nibbled across the curve of my neck until he was suckling my shoulder. His hands ran down my sides to my thighs then back up again. I leaned my head back, his rough hands caressing my wet skin. I needed it stronger. I wanted more.
He stopped. “You still on the pill?”
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck.”
His hands leaving me drained my body of heat even though the water was still driving down on us. My eyes flew open.
“Logan?” I was breathing hard, and I reached for him unable to stop myself. I needed him, screw sensible. I didn’t know how to be sensible around him. He knocked sensible right out of the universe.
“Don’t move.”
I gasped. It was that voice. That deep, resounding voice he used when I was forced to call him Master.
