What she saw frightened her. White powder covered the floor. The man was standing, his back to her and she could barley make out Logan in the dark, lying on the ground. The man was holding a knife. Oh gosh. It could be worse, it could be a gun. Was Logan hurt badly? The next thing she knew, she was creeping up behind the man and was bringing her gun down on top of the man’s head. The sickening crack of his skull forced her to hold back the bile rising in her throat. The man slumped to the ground. His knife clattered to the floor. Turning the light switch on, she rushed to Logan, who was already getting into a standing position. “Are you okay? Logan, he could have killed you! Oh my gosh, Logan, is he dead?”
She was trembling uncontrollably, and Logan’s hands steadied her grip and pulled the gun out of her hands. Checking the safety, he set it on the counter next to her sink and turned back toward her.
Logan checked the man’s pulse. “No, he’s alive. You pistol-whipped him pretty good, huh? He was trying to rob you, Gabriella.”
Her breaths were coming out short. “I think I’m having a heart attack, Logan. What happened to you?”
“He blasted me with your fire extinguisher. And kicked me a few times but I can handle it.”
“I am so sorry you got involved in this. The police are on their way. At least, I hope.” She remembered her phone and pulled it from her purse. The line was dead. She dialed 9-1-1 again and was connected to a dispatcher. Relaying the situation, the dispatcher confirmed police were on their way. She watched Logan hover over the intruder. With minimal effort, he pushed the man onto his back and took off his ski mask.
Gabriella was taken aback. The locksmith?
“He had a key, who is he?”
“He’s the locksmith I hired to rekey everything when I lost all of my keys. The same company also rekeyed them after the break-in.” It made perfect sense to her. Sirens screamed outside and Gabriella found comfort at see the police cars pull into her lot.
“Police! Is anyone armed?” The police and fire department strolled in together. The first officer was older, balding and had a faded scar across his cheek. The second officer wasn’t much younger by the looks of it. He must’ve lost weight recently because his pants were hanging from his hips and there was an overload of cloth cinched inside his waistband from his belt buckle.
“No,” she squealed. “I have a concealed weapon permit. My gun is on the counter.”
She pointed to the counter where one of the officers followed her direction and stood between them and her gun. The firemen went to the man on the floor and began checking his vitals.
“He’s alive,” she said. “I just hit him over the head with my gun. That’s why he’s bleeding so badly. But I don’t think I hit him that hard. He should be okay. Right?” She looked to Logan for confirmation.
Logan shrugged and nodded.
The firefighters checked the man’s head wound and although it appeared to be only superficial, they had a few words with the officers and waited for him to regain consciousness.
“Let’s cuff him before he wakes up. I don’t want to take any chances. Especially since he was armed.” The balding officer motioned for his partner to stay against the counter while he knelt down and began frisking the still unconscious locksmith. The officer handcuffed one wrist and then the other. Task completed he stood and turned to Gabriella. “Do you know this man?”
“I can’t remember his name. He’s a locksmith, I—”
“—That’s how he got in, when I got here the key was still in the lock.”
“I lost my keys and had to hire him to rekey the locks and let me in. I had a break in a few days ago. I’m assuming it’s the same guy.”
Logan pulled some paper towels off her counter and wet them at the sink. He began using the towels to wipe the remnants of the fire extinguisher from his face and arms.
The man on the floor began stirring and everyone’s attention focused on him.
“Sir? Can you hear me? Open your eyes. Sir?”
He opened his eyes, winced and brought his hands up to his head. “This is your fault.” He pointed to Logan.
“Sir, have you been drinking? Are you on any kind of drugs we should know about?
“I haven't been drinking. My head hurts like hell. I think I’m gonna puke.”
“Are you on drugs, sir?”
“No. Look, I'm just a normal guy who needs money, okay?” At that, the man turned and emptied his stomach all over Gabriella’s rug. “Can I at least get a towel?”
The officer gave him a paper towel. “Well, that knife just put you in a whole new category of trouble.”
Logan's hand pressed into the small of her back and led her toward the officer whose only job seemed to be was keeping an eye on her gun. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, not as scared as I was when I walked in on him towering over you. Are you okay? You’re going to need a shower.” Like they were both reading each other’s minds, Logan’s arms went out just as she was moving in to embrace him.
“I’m fine. Nothing I can't deal with. This isn't how I imagined seeing you again though. I can shower at your place.”
It was still there, that fire between them she’d been suppressing since he’d moved away. The butterflies dancing inside her stomach took flight as she studied his gaze on her. He looked the same as when he’d left. The fire extinguisher hadn’t covered his hair completely and she noticed his hair had lost some of its blond highlights, telling her he hadn't been spending much time outside.
Hearing he had every intention of going to her place made her insides tickle. His eyes were dangerous. He wanted her and he wanted her right now. The tension that radiated off him sent shockwaves to her entire system.
She swallowed. “You’re coming to my place?”
“Do you think there’s somewhere else I’d rather be? I’m going home with you. You and I have a lot to figure out.”
Once the firemen verified the intruder was okay, the police hauled the guy out of her store. The police verified she was indeed able to carry a concealed weapon and gave her gun back to her. Logan rolled up the rug and took it to the dumpster. This time, a different locksmith company, the owner himself, came and rekeyed her locks before Logan and she went home.
They rode to her house in silence. She couldn’t quite figure out what he was thinking. He was much too silent, taking up too much room in her tiny car and much too handsome. Even with fire extinguisher stuff on his clothes, he still looked damn good.
Good enough to eat.
“Do you normally wear tiny shorts when you go out? And no bra?”
She pulled into her space and her eyes widened as the realization that she’d talked to the police officers and Logan wearing nothing but a flimsy t-shirt and teeny tiny shorts. How embarrassing.
“Had I not been so busy saving your butt, I could have worn something more acceptable.”
“Oh, it’s acceptable. I just don’t like other men checking out your nipples.” He cleared his throat. “But I like them just fine.”
Heat pooled between her legs, his husky voice was satin over her hot skin. She shut her car off and looked down at her shirt, her tiny shorts that rode so far up her thighs you couldn’t tell if they were shorts or panties. She didn’t know what to say to him. She shut the car off and hopped out.
She was on fire. She wanted him desperately, but she wanted to blame him for moving away and leaving her alone like she didn’t matter to him. She wanted to yell at him for not calling her, for leaving her alone with her thoughts, not knowing what he was thinking.
He slammed the car door shut and stalked after her. She picked up speed and made it to her door in record time, but he was quick to follow her there. She shivered at his body heat behind her, the slight brush of his clothes as she unlocked her door. He didn’t let up. He nudged her into the condo and kicked the door shut behind him. Setting her purse on the table, she turned the lights on and turned to face him.
“What do you want from me, Gabriel
la?” Oh, he was mad, too. The deep V lining his forehead, the grim look on his mouth and how he kept flexing his hands into fists had her wanting two things: to fight with him and make love to him. Fuck him.
I want to be mad at you for leaving, I don’t want to be in love with you like I am. “I want you to not look at my nipples.” Big fat lie. She didn’t even have to glance down to know her traitorous nipples-in-question were hard as pebbles as she spoke.
His hard gaze traveled to her chest. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“They’re hard as fuck right now, and when they’re hard, it means you’re turned on.”
She folded her arms over her chest.
“Don’t do that. Don’t cover them from me. Anyone else, but not me.”
“Why not you? You haven’t even called me since you left.” She closed her mouth abruptly, not wanting to say anymore. Not wanting him to know how this entire situation made her feel.
“I’ve been busy, there’s been no time,” his voice softened. “I’ve wanted to, believe me.”
“It’s not that hard to pick up the phone, Logan. Why are you here, anyway?”
Logan ran his hand through his hair, causing a mild dust storm of fire extinguisher residue. Poor guy needed a shower.
“Look, go take a shower. We can talk about this later.”
Logan shook his head back and forth. “We’re dealing with this now. I’m not getting in the shower alone.”
Oh gosh, she loved this. Loved the way he got so bossy. Loved how he made her feel. The painstakingly feel-good feeling he elicited out of her like no one else could. Her nipples tingled, his gaze was once again on them. His tongue came out in a brief flicker and he licked his bottom lip. She’d never experienced arousal and anger bundled up together in one package before. It was like a plastic bag floating in the wind—up, down, up, down.
She folded her arms back over her chest. “I’m not showering with you.”
“You want to. Why won’t you do it?” This time he reached out to her and pulled her arms away from her chest.
“Because we can’t be together, Logan. And I’m mad at you.” Her voice was a little louder this time, a little more confident.
“Well, I’m mad, too. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to peel off your teeny Barbie clothes and sink my cock into your body.”
She swallowed. How much longer can I take this before I wind up in the shower with him? Images of them in the shower, water falling all over his body, grasping his erection and guiding it into her body wasn’t what her brain was supposed to be thinking about. One glance south told her he was ready and wanting. How much longer would he wait? Focus, Gabbie.
“Excuse me, why are you mad at me? I didn’t move away, I have at least called you and I just pistol-whipped some guy to save your ass! So, what could you possibly be mad at me for?” Oh crap, the college pregnancy. Any chance he would forget that?
“Because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about what happened in college. You didn’t even give me a chance to form my own opinion or to kick Jed’s ass, because I would have…just because. You know, I’ve trusted you with everything I’ve ever known. And talk about a huge slap in the face to discover you didn’t share my sentiments.”
“That’s not true.” She shook her head. “I’ve trusted and told you everything there is to tell you.”
“Just not about this. Not about how you’ve been afraid to have sex because you don’t want to be pregnant again. How you have never had great enough sex to desire it from anyone. Gabriella, I’m me. I’m Logan. It hurts that you couldn’t trust me with your deepest secret.”
“I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. Once so much time had passed, it became more of just a secret that was no longer a big deal.”
“Except when you never wanted to have sex!”
“Stop this, please. I can’t change what I did. I’m sorry I never told you. It doesn’t matter now about the sex stuff because you’ve changed me. You’ve made me want sex. You’ve made me want to explore my sexuality and be a vixen that only I can be when I’m around you. You have made me desire it and love it, and then you moved away.”
The tension in Logan’s body visibly disappeared. “I thought you were okay with our arrangement?” He reached behind him and tugged his shirt off.
“I was. At least I thought I was, until you’ve been gone for what feels like forever already and not a day or night goes by that I don’t think about you, or that I don’t want you. It’s hard to sleep. It’s hard to eat…”
He threw his shirt on the floor and started unbuckling his belt.
“What are you doing? Logan, you have to tell me, don’t you feel this way at all? Has any of this been difficult for you? Is it just me? Say something. So far, I’ve poured my heart out and you haven’t given me anything in return.”
He slowly pulled the belt from the loops of his jeans and threw it on top of his wadded-up shirt lying on her floor.
“Don’t even begin to assume this has been easy for me, okay? Don’t make me feel bad for moving to the city to help my dad. And definitely don’t tell me you’ve poured your heart out to me because that wasn’t heart pouring.”
She tried not to look at his chest, the abs she’d missed so much. She tried to ignore the way his jeans sat loosely on his hips showing the band of his boxer-briefs. She tried not to be annoyed by his keen observation that she hadn’t poured her heart out…at least not all the way.
Yet.
“I don’t want you to feel bad about moving away. I understand it was a smart business decision. I didn’t plan on falling for you though.”
He loomed over her. Hot tension emanated from his body.
“Fall for me the way I’ve fallen for you?”
He kissed her softly on the lips, and she reluctantly gave in. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he hoisted her legs onto his hips. He carried her down the hall and into her bathroom. Setting her down, he reached out and rubbed her once again, hard-as-hell nipples through the cotton of her shirt.
“You’ve fallen for me?”
He tossed his jeans aside and turned on the shower. He stepped out of his boxers and picked her back up. His throbbing erection pushed on the fabric of her shorts. He carried her into the shower, and together they were doused by the hot water. With her soaked clothes, the hard lines of her nipples protruded through the fabric that much more. Tight and much bigger than they were in the living room.
Her body slid down his as he rested her on her feet. He bent his head down, taking her cloth-covered nipple into his mouth. He stroked it and teased her, eliciting a moan from her lips. He moved to the next one and roughly pulled the soaked shirt up, exposing the rose-colored bud. He bit it and swirled his tongue around her flesh, making her gasp.
“Yes, I’ve fallen for you, Gabriella. Yes, you have been all I could fucking think about since I’ve been in New York. Yes, thoughts of your body keep me awake at night. Every night.” He placed kisses on her mouth, her cheek, the sweet spot near her ear as he spoke all of these things to her. “Your sexy curves, the way you moan when I shove myself inside of you. The way your lips part open when you take me in your mouth.”
His hand came between her legs, rubbing her mound as the water sprayed in every direction. “I haven’t wanted anything as badly as I’ve wanted you. Turn around.”
She did as she was told and the hot water pouring between them, Logan’s hands on her waist pulling her shorts down, had her shivering beyond belief.
“Talk to me, Cinderella.”
“What do you want to hear?” she asked, her voice was high-pitched. She was aroused beyond comprehension as she tried keeping up with his touches. His erection pressed into her back while the water saturated her front. She leaned her head back on his chest.
“I want to hear you pouring your heart out. Bend forward. Put your hands on the faucet.”
She did as she was told. Placing both hands on the faucet, bracing her
self for his entrance, she remembered what he wanted to hear from her. The problem was his hands on her body, feeling like they were everywhere—In her hair, on her hips, cupping her breast, helping her shimmy out of her soaked shorts—she couldn’t formulate a single thought other than if he would just get inside of her.
His large hands came down across her ass, rubbing her butt cheeks, slightly pulling them apart as his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin between her cheeks. He rubbed the flesh between her legs, finally making his way to her clit where he flicked it with his fingertips. It was almost enough to bring her to orgasm. Still holding herself up by the faucet, he shoved his fingers inside her aching channel. She cried out in ecstasy.
“I’m not hearing anything, Cinderella,” he reminded her. “Do you want me to stop?”
He began pulling his fingers out of her, inch by devastating inch.
“No. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Talk to me then.”
He slid his fingers back inside her, pushing hard enough on her g-spot, giving her the pressure she’d been craving.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted.
“You’ve already told me that.”
“I haven’t been eating good enough.”
“I can feel in my hands that you’ve lost weight. Tell me something I don’t know.” He continued his slow assault, pulling his fingers out, rubbing her clit, and pushing them back in.
“I…I tried touching myself, hoping it would feel the same as when you do it.” That answer got her more sweet goodness. He rubbed her clit, harder and harder, nearly bringing her to the brink.
“Did you imagine it was my fingers? Doing this to you?”
Pistol Whipped (Love on Target Book 3) Page 14
