by Nicola Marsh
His eyes turned flinty as he hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words. ‘She was a different person when Dad was around. She’d light up, and then when he left again she’d clam up. I thought that maybe she had depression but she wasn’t on any meds and didn’t display many of the symptoms when I looked it up.’
Hope clung to his hand, wishing she could infuse him with strength. She understood more than he knew. Having a physically present but emotionally absent parent could be just as hard as not having a parent at all. She’d often felt invisible around her parents, or worse, regretted, as if they’d never wanted a child and didn’t really want her around. They tolerated her, doing their utmost to bend her to their will, to make her their clone.
When she hadn’t acquiesced, they’d lied to force her into it and, while she might have forgiven them, she’d never forget.
‘So what happened?’
His brows pulled in as he cleared his throat. ‘Dad started to make some serious money when I was in my teens so he barely made it home. Mum got worse to the point she pretty much ignored me most days.’
He stiffened, his expression contorting with pain. ‘Then she died.’
Sadness tightened Hope’s throat as she leaned in and rested her head against his shoulder. ‘That must’ve been heart-breaking.’
‘It was.’
Two short, sharp words that hinted at sorrow, pain and devastation. Her parents might be narcissistic liars, and she would mourn them out of obligation when they eventually passed, but the audible anguish in Logan’s gruff voice told her exactly how much he’d loved his mum.
He remained silent for a long while and she waited out his pause, surprised by his candour, relieved she didn’t have to pry it from him but regretting causing him pain by his recounting of the tale.
‘I blamed Dad for her death. At the funeral, he stood up in front of everyone in the town and waxed lyrical about how much he loved his family, how everything he did was for me.’
His upper lip curled in a sneer and his eyes hardened to a steely blue. ‘Bullshit. He happily abandoned us because it suited him. It was always about him. His career, his opportunities,’ he spat out, bitterness lacing every word as his face reddened. ‘He tried to reach out to me after the funeral, saying we should catch up more often now that I was moving to Melbourne for my apprenticeship; saying how the men of the Holmes family had to stick together, how we had to look forward to the future together. I told him to shove it up his ass.’
He stood rigid, his nostrils flared, a vein pulsing at his temple, and Hope slipped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, trying to convey silent comfort. He held her but his arms were unyielding, his back stiff beneath her hands.
‘The other day when he called and I was with you he told me he’d had cancer.’ His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat before continuing. ‘He’s okay but he laid a heavy guilt trip on me and I’ve been mulling it over ever since.’
Helplessness filled Hope as she released him. She’d wanted to know what was behind Logan’s funk; it looked as though she’d got more than she’d bargained for. She had no idea whether Logan wanted comforting or to be left alone. His body language screamed ‘hands off’ but the torment in his eyes gutted her.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Fucked if I know.’ His mouth twisted with resentment and she had her answer right there. He didn’t want her comfort. Which was probably a good thing because anything she could offer would be lame and ineffectual in the face of his dilemma. ‘The thing is, I can’t see how meeting up is going to change anything. He’ll always be a selfish asshole to me. But then I think about how shitty I’d feel if he died before I got to say a bunch of stuff...’
‘Then I think you’ve figured out what you need to do.’ She rested her palm against his cheek. It was a simple gesture she hoped would convey that she understood and wished she could do more. ‘See him. You might purge the past and move forward. At the very least you’ll get to voice your opinion. And who knows? You might even find yourself reconnecting—’
‘Not going to happen,’ he said through gritted teeth, his lips flattening. ‘But, yeah, I think it’s time.’
‘Do you want to do it now?’
‘Hell no.’ He pulled her into his arms again and squished her so hard she could barely breathe. ‘Thanks for listening. I’m not a sharer but it kinda felt good to get all that off my chest.’
Hope hugged him right back and they stood that way for a long time. She’d never been into overt displays of affection as a kid—no great surprise given that her folks considered an air-kiss on birthdays more than enough—but being able to convey so much by wrapping Logan in her arms felt good. They might not be indulging in anything more than a fling but she hoped he derived some comfort from confiding in her and knowing she’d happily be his sounding board if needed.
When he released her, he stared at her with a tenderness that made her ache.
‘You sure you don’t want to call your dad now?’
‘No. I want to do something else.’
She couldn’t fathom the determined spark in his eyes but it was better than the pain of the last few minutes. ‘What?’
He lowered his head to whisper in her ear. ‘I want to do what I should’ve done last night with you.’ His tongue traced the whorl of her ear in a slow, deliberate swipe. ‘And it doesn’t involve watching a footy replay.’
Hope almost felt guilty as relief seeped through her. This, she could do. She understood their intense physical connection. The riotous confusion of emotions him having confided in her elicited, not so much.
‘Oh?’ She arched an eyebrow and struck a provocative pose with her hand on her hip, responding in kind to his switch to a playful mood.
His wicked laugh rippled over her, loaded with intent. ‘Ever checked into a hotel for a quickie?’
A wave of heat swamped her at the thought, most of it pooling in her cheeks that had to be a beacon for the surge of excitement making her skin pebble. ‘No.’
His fingertip grazed her blazing cheek before trailing along her jaw, her chin, eventually tracing her bottom lip with deliberate lightness. ‘Well, we’re in the heart of the city, surrounded by a billion hotels, so why don’t we save the laneways tour for another time?’
The old Hope would’ve been appalled by such a suggestion. But the new Hope she’d become through letting go of her old insecurities one layer at a time leapt at the raunchy thought of ducking into a hotel with the sole intention of having sex.
‘These laneways aren’t going anywhere,’ she said, glancing up at him coyly from beneath lowered lashes. ‘We should definitely do our bit for inner-city tourism and check into a hotel.’
‘I love how spontaneous you are,’ he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her close for a quick kiss that did little to assuage the sudden burning of her body. ‘Let’s go find the nearest one.’
She didn’t have to be asked twice and they almost stumbled from the dark laneway in their quest to find the nearest hotel. Thankfully, it wasn’t far; they both spotted the sign on the corner of the next block at the same time.
‘Fortuitous,’ she said.
At the same time he said, ‘Fate.’
They laughed and picked up the pace, almost bounding up the three concrete steps and pushing through a heavy glass door into a cool interior. The lobby had a shabby, understated elegance to it, like an old lady who’d seen better days. Faded chintz sofas were strategically placed around mahogany coffee tables, with fringed lamps casting a warm glow over the place. The polished parquetry floor and the brass-lined check-in desk appeared faded, but Hope didn’t care. All she cared about was getting naked with Logan as fast as humanly possible.
‘Be right back,’ he said, squeezing her hand before releasing it.
As Hope watched him check in, her
impatience growing as the receptionist dropped his credit card twice, she wondered what had got into her—but she didn’t care because soon it would be him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE HOTEL WAS A DIVE.
Logan had stayed in fancier places in smaller towns around the country. But he needed to obliterate the ache clawing at his chest like a trapped animal desperate to escape. The ache that talking about his father had elicited. Sex with Hope was guaranteed to do that.
He’d never talked to anyone about his dad. Rick knew a fair bit of what had gone down because they’d been friends when he’d first moved to Melbourne and had been privy to the conversations—more like yelling matches—when his father had reached out several times after his mum’s funeral. But he’d never divulged the truth to a woman before and the fact he’d done it with Hope spoke volumes.
He was in too deep.
Since when did a fling signify a real connection for him?
He’d dated extensively around the country over the years. Tradesmen held a certain appeal for some women and as CEO of a booming company with a healthy cash flow, he’d become popular with women in general. It didn’t make him a bighead to admit it; it made him a realist. Women were attracted to money and ruggedness, and he had both.
Except Hope didn’t give a fuck about his fortune; she had more than enough dosh of her own. As for his looks, she trumped him in that department too. Even now, as he palmed the key card from the hotel receptionist and strode towards Hope, she stared at him with those big grey eyes, all-seeing, all-knowing. She wore funky faux leather pants today, with a green flowing top that set off her eyes. He’d been hot to trot from the moment he’d seen her. Then he’d blurted all that stuff about Stephen to explain his shoddy behaviour towards her and had felt like shit ever since.
Logan didn’t depend on anyone. He’d been his own man for a long time and confiding in Hope had been an anomaly. It mystified him in a way he didn’t like. The last time he’d felt this befuddled had been at his mum’s funeral and he hated feeling out of his depth.
He liked being in control. He didn’t like vulnerability. Revealing too much about his family, having Hope listen, discuss with and support him, had shown that he had a weak spot and that didn’t sit well with him.
He didn’t want her getting too close: it would only end badly for her. Bonding while they fucked was one thing; feeling comfortable enough around her to reveal too much was another.
He had to get this semi-date back on track and that meant focussing on the sex. But she was right. He had to see Stephen. Settle this once and for all.
But what if seeing his dad after all these years made everything worse?
Spending all his time on the road wasn’t just about enjoying the spoils of being CEO of his own company. It wasn’t about keeping his hand in with the building industry. It wasn’t about being a demanding boss who had to oversee the commencement of projects personally.
It was about not growing close to anybody.
More importantly, not having anyone depend on him.
Because that was his ultimate fear: that he was more like his dad than he cared to admit and disappointing anyone who got too close because of his fear of commitment would be inevitable.
He’d seen what his mother’s dependence on his father for her happiness had eventually done to her and it hadn’t been pretty. The emotional rollercoaster Stephen had inflicted on her had taken its toll and he’d been privy to the fallout. It made him resent his dad all the more because somewhere deep inside, in a place he hated to acknowledge, he’d begrudged his father his ability to escape.
Stephen hadn’t born the brunt of his mum’s mood swings, Logan had, and it made him determined never to become so emotionally invested in a relationship that it produced an unhealthy dependence that always left one partner worse off. No fucking way.
Logan never wanted to be responsible for any woman’s happiness, ever. Flings that lasted no longer than a month before he moved on suited him fine.
Gritting his teeth against the urge to call this off because of his mood, he forced a smile. It must’ve come out a grimace because that fucking pity was back in Hope’s eyes and it slayed him all over again.
‘Do you really want to do this—?’
‘Come on,’ he growled, grabbing her hand and holding on tight.
He strode towards the lift, determined to douse his moroseness with a warm armful of woman. They rode to the fourth floor in silence but he was acutely aware of her: the heat radiating off her skin; her light floral fragrance faintly reminiscent of roses and vanilla; the brush of her hair against his arm.
When the elevator doors slid open, he spied their room number two doors to the right. She squeezed his hand when he fumbled the first card swipe and he cursed. He got it on the second try and pushed the door open, immediately regretting this decision as a faint, musty odour tickled his nose and he caught sight of the room.
Hope deserved better than this.
She’d be a five-star kind of girl and he’d brought her to this dive because...what? Because he wanted to use her to eradicate his over-sharing regarding his father, when he should’ve had the balls to confront him a long time ago?
‘Stop over-thinking this,’ she said, slipping in behind him and closing the door. ‘It’s okay.’
‘This place is a shithole,’ he muttered, leading her further into the room, which only cemented his first impressions. Worn carpet the colour of English mustard, pale blue bedspread torn in one corner, a small scratched desk, a single chair with scuff marks on the legs and heavily kinked olive drapes that sat askew, partially hiding the view of the brick wall of the apartment building next door. ‘It was a mistake bringing you here—’
‘Shh...’ She pressed her fingertips to his mouth, silencing him. ‘I’m not a princess.’
She lowered her hand and gently nudged him backwards towards the bed. ‘And I want to be with you.’
She palmed his cock with one hand as his knees hit the back of the bed and shoved him down onto it with the other. Determination glittered in her eyes as she stared at him, daring him to put a stop to this.
He should. His mood, this place, it was all wrong. But when he opened his mouth to say so she increased the pressure on his cock, tracing the rigid outline with her fingers, massaging him. Fuck, he was a goner.
‘This is going to be good,’ she said, not breaking eye contact as she knelt at his feet and nudged his thighs apart, her hand continually stroking his cock through his jeans, making rational thought impossible.
All the angst of the last twenty minutes faded as Logan watched her unzip him. Anticipation made him light-headed as he propped himself up on his elbows as this amazing woman slid her hand into his jocks and took out his hard cock as if it was the most precious gift she’d ever unwrapped.
Yeah, this was exactly what he needed. Sex with a hot woman. No time to think or feel. Just live it.
When she swiped her tongue across the head in a slow, languorous sweep, he couldn’t think about anything beyond this moment. Fucking perfect.
Her tongue circled him again as her hand gripped his shaft, strong and confident, and he gave himself over to enjoying this. Having her stare at his cock like she couldn’t get enough was a huge turn-on and he thrust his hips up a little.
She didn’t need the encouragement and when her lips enclosed the tip the feeling of her hot mouth encasing him ripped a groan from the back of his throat. She slid her lips over him, her hand rising up to meet her mouth. Sucking and squeezing. Up and down, over and over again, blanking everything but the hot moistness of her mouth and the strength of her grip.
His hips bucked as she sped up, sucking and squeezing, until the delirium of release overtook him. It felt as if his balls lifted up clean into his body as he thrust into her mouth and came, the milking of his release so strong his ass arched off th
e bed.
She didn’t speak as she slowly slid him out of her mouth. But she kissed the tip of his cock and he trembled again, his super-sensitive skin tuned to her every touch. She stood and sat next to him on the edge of the bed, tucking him back into his jocks when all he needed was some time to get back in the game.
When she rested her head on his shoulder and didn’t speak, he had no idea what the hell was going on. He reached for her and she held a hand to his chest to stop him.
‘This was about you,’ she murmured, snuggling into him when he wrapped his arm around her. ‘I can wait.’
He didn’t want her to. He wanted to bury himself in her. He wanted to annihilate the uncharacteristic ache in his chest that her unselfishness elicited.
He wanted to fuck and forget.
His cock had better get with the programme because the faster he recovered from her sensational blowjob, the faster he could focus on what he did best. Fun for a short time, not a long time, then leave.
Anything else, anything remotely resembling an emotional connection, wasn’t an option.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HOPE HAD NEVER brought a man to her apartment so the fact Logan currently lay sprawled in her bed, fast asleep, spoke volumes.
As if she hadn’t already known he was different from all the other guys she’d dated.
She’d learned to guard her heart in England when her relationship with Willem had imploded and she’d discovered the truth: that trust is easily broken and lies are cheap.
Having her heart broken had been bad enough but it had been a hard lesson learning of her parents’ lies close on the heels of Willem’s deception. And Harry’s betrayal soon after had cemented what she’d already learned: never trust anyone.
Ironic, considering her parents had tried to instil that very value into her from a young age, but for a different reason. The McWilliamses’ fortune ensured they had dealt with usurpers sucking up their entire lives. They’d wanted her to spot the have-nots wanting to take advantage of the haves, to question everyone’s motives. It meant she’d rarely dated as a teen and at twenty had fallen hard for Willem, naïvely optimistic. She’d been a prime target for a jerk like him.
