“Stay,” I pleaded.
“I don’t have anything,” he groaned. “I didn’t plan…”
“I’m on the pill. I’m safe. I haven’t been with anyone for over a year.”
He met my beseeching gaze.
“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, Lottie. Since before I started singing to you. A long time before that. I was tested, and I’m negative too. If you trust me, and you want this, I am not going to tell you no. I will never tell you no.”
“Please,” I whispered.
He hooked the door shut behind him and flipped the lock. I yanked off my coat and boots and waited as he did the same. I gasped as he swooped me into his arms and carried me down the hall.
“Your day is going to end a lot better than it started, baby.”
I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the skin, teasing it with my tongue. “I’m counting on it.”
Quickly, I discovered another side to Logan—his tender, lovemaking side. There was no dirty-talking, no rough tearing off of our clothes. Instead, he surrounded me with him. His body, his warmth, his gentleness.
He slowly removed my outfit, brushing kisses onto every inch of my skin as he bared it. He rubbed my shoulders, working magic with his strong fingers as he loosened the muscles, all the while humming low and soft into my ear. He discarded his jeans and shirt, tugging me down on the mattress with him. We kissed endlessly—long, languid swipes of his tongue on mine, all the while touching me.
I shivered as he stroked along my collarbone, his lips light and teasing. He kissed the tender skin on my inner elbow, teased my pulse at my wrist, found the sensitive spot behind my ear. He murmured reassurances, sweet promises, quiet thoughts.
How beautiful I was. How much he wanted me. The way he had missed me all day. He promised to never stop touching me like this.
I was lost to his words, his touch—and to him.
I gripped him hard, needing to feel him. To know he was there. He soothed me with his body, covering mine like a warm, protective blanket, his heat soaking into my skin. He was a welcome weight pinning me to the mattress. He never stopped in his explorations until I begged him.
“Please, Logan. I need you.”
He settled between my legs, hovering over me like a dark angel. He slid inside, both of us groaning at the raw, intimate connection. He was silk over steel, my body welcoming him inside as if it had been waiting for this.
For him.
He stilled, hanging his head. When he lifted his chin, his eyes were intense, the whiskey almost black.
“You feel better than any fantasy or any dream could ever be,” he rasped. “You were made for me, Lottie.”
There was nothing rushed tonight. Long, slow thrusts of his hips, whispered words of adoration, gentle, lingering kisses. The overwhelming intensity of the moment, his piercing gaze, his low words hit me, and I orgasmed without warning, the rolling waves crashing over me as I climaxed and clung to Logan. He buried his face in my neck and groaned out my name as he came, holding me tight as he shuddered, then stilled, his body pushing me down into the mattress as he exhaled and collapsed to my chest. I clutched my arms around his neck, breathing him in, feeling the relaxation rolling over us.
He rolled to his side, his grip never loosening. He tugged me to his chest, running his fingers through my hair, pressing kisses to my forehead. “Amazing.”
I moved to get comfortable and let out a low laugh. “Amazing but messy as hell. You’re all over me.”
“I like being all over you.”
I groaned and relaxed back to his chest. He wasn’t letting me up—at least not yet. He tilted up my chin and kissed me. It was one of his soul-shattering, deep, intense kisses that made my toes curl. The man could kiss like there was no tomorrow. It was highly addictive. When he pulled back, our eyes locked, the silence filled with unspoken words.
I shook my head.
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?” he asked, a smile curling his lips.
“As if I’m your entire world.”
“You’re quickly becoming exactly that.”
My heart fluttered. “Logan,” I whispered. “It’s too fast.”
“I’m just putting it out there. I’m not a player. I’m a one-woman guy. And you are my one woman.” He paused, a small vee forming between his eyes. “If you want to be.”
There was no hesitation. The way he treated me, how he made me feel—as if I mattered. It was the first time in years I felt as if I mattered to someone. I felt safe, protected, and cherished.
“Yes, I want to be your ‘one-woman.’”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He tucked me closer. “Go to sleep. I’m right here.”
I snuggled close and, without another word or thought, drifted to sleep, his words comforting and perfect.
He was here.
Chapter 13
Lottie
I woke to Logan’s lips on my forehead, his voice low in my ear. “I have to go, baby. I can’t be late, and I need to shower and change.” He dropped another kiss to my forehead. “I hope today is better for you.”
He started to back up toward the door, and I sat up, the blankets falling off my chest. He groaned. “Don’t tempt me, Lottie.”
I rolled my eyes and tucked the blanket under my arms. “I forgot, I have a business event tomorrow that Carmen is hosting. He extended the invitation to the team and told me to feel free to bring a plus-one. Would you like to go with me?”
“That won’t cause you a problem?”
“It’s a casual event. Drinks, music, schmoozing is what Carmen told me. A chance to see what they’re about and meet them. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“Your father?” The words hung in the air.
I knew what he was saying, but I refused to be worried. I wasn’t ashamed of Logan, and I wanted him to know that.
“I can’t see him even thinking about going to something like that. He likes the formal dinners, not a plate of finger food and loud music. I only have two members on this team, and I’m not even sure they’ll go. I would love to have you with me.”
“And it’s casual?”
My lips quirked. “Maybe clean jeans and an un-holey shirt, but yes.”
He winked. “I can do that. I would love to go with you.”
“I’ll probably work late tonight. Don’t wait, Logan. Please. Be here tomorrow at seven.”
He lifted a shoulder and walked out the door.
“Can’t promise that,” he called. “We’ll see.”
Somehow, I knew I would be seeing him later.
He was there, a smile on his face, his guitar in hand. But this time, he sat beside me on the bench and crooned just for me. We shared a piece of cake at the diner, and he walked me home, refusing to come upstairs.
“I have no self-control when it comes to you,” he confessed. “If I come upstairs, I can’t leave you.” He kissed my forehead, his warm lips lingering. “Don’t ask, baby. I can’t say no.”
“But you’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Seven on the dot. Clean, un-holey shirt on. Promise.”
I rolled to the tip of my toes and kissed him. “Okay.”
He watched me walk in and waited until he saw my light go on. I waved from my window, and he strode away, his long legs eating up the distance quickly. He texted when he got home and sent a voice mail. It was of him singing a lullaby, and I listened to it when I went to bed, the sound of his rich voice soothing me into sleep.
The next night, he buzzed at seven promptly, and I let him up, opening the door and waiting impatiently for him to arrive. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled off his jacket.
“Will this do?”
His shaggy hair was around his collar, pushed back from his face. He wore a dark blue Henley stretched tight across his chest and arms and a black leather vest overtop. He had on thick khaki pants and
heavy Doc Martens on his feet. His beard was trimmed, and his eyes danced with mischief. With the various leather and braided silver cuffs on his wrist and knotted Celtic rings on his hands, he looked every inch the bad boy. A seriously sexy bad boy.
I tried not to whimper. I think I failed.
“You’re coming home with me tonight,” I informed him.
He grinned and indicated my outfit. “Damn right, I am.”
I glanced down. I wore tight black pants tucked into ankle boots and a long glittery, silver tunic. It was pretty, yet not over the top. I wore my hair up in a long ponytail and had slipped in some delicate, dangling silver earrings that brushed my shoulders. I had added eyeliner and red lipstick.
“You are smoking hot,” Logan growled. “I love the lips.” He stepped closer. “I want those lips.”
“They’re yours,” I murmured, feeling a long shiver of desire run through me.
“I don’t want to mess you up.”
“It’s smear-proof,” I assured him. “And I want you to mess—”
That was all I got out before his mouth was on mine. Hard. Demanding. So satisfying, yet not enough. I wanted closer. I wanted more. I had never felt this way about a man, but Logan was different. He brought out feelings in me I had never known until now.
He eased back with a smile. Affectionately, he rubbed his nose along mine. “We need to go before I throw you over the back of that sofa and have you in those sexy little boots, Snow Queen.”
“Rain check?” I breathed out, hardly recognizing my own voice.
He grinned. Wide and wicked. “Absolutely.”
“Let’s go, then.”
The venue was packed. It was a converted warehouse, the top floor decked out for the party. There were lights strung from the open beams, various bars and food stations set up, and a rhythmic beat thumping in the background. They had numerous bands and individual performers playing as well as a DJ spinning during breaks. I was greeted at the door by a tall woman with a wide smile and a fashion flair I wished I dared to have. Her dress plunged, ending just below her ass, and her makeup was intense. Her blond hair was short, slicked back, and she was simply stunning. She was also incredibly warm and friendly.
“Carmen asked me to point him out to you if he wasn’t at the door,” she said, indicating a tall bald man with a beard talking to another gentleman. “He’s looking forward to meeting you. I’m Roxanne.”
We shook hands. I knew from my notes she was the marketing executive at the record company. “Great to meet you. This is Logan.”
He held out his hand. “Hey.”
She eyed him up and down, her gaze frank. I felt a frisson of jealousy at her appraisal but shook it off when Logan snaked his hand around my waist. “My girl made my day including me in the invite. Roadside is an awesome label. Your artists are top-notch.”
She laughed. “We think so. And we look forward to working with, ah, your girl.”
He nodded.
“Go introduce yourself to Carmen and help yourself to food and drink. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She handed us VIP badges. “Enjoy!”
We stopped to slip on the lanyards. “You didn’t tell me your client was Roadside Records, Lottie.”
I shrugged. “I had no idea you knew them.”
“They’re a well-known indie label. Rumor is they treat their artists well.”
“Well, they and Ravaged Records want to team up and bring in investors—expand.”
He whistled. “Another familiar name. Some of the guys I play with in bars would kill to be here tonight.” He bent low and kissed me. “And not just for the party. Have I mentioned how incredibly sexy you are?”
I cupped his chin, running my fingers through his beard. “Not as sexy as you are.”
He winked. “Let’s go be sexy together.”
We made our way toward Carmen. I introduced myself and was given a hug. He was charming and gregarious. He informed me he was thrilled that Mr. Prescott had given the account to me.
“I’ve heard many good things about you, Lottie.”
“I hope I live up to your expectations.”
He winked. “I have no doubt. Now go, enjoy yourselves. Tonight is about fun. We’ll work on business tomorrow.”
Logan and I headed to the bar, each getting a drink and filling our plates with food. We wandered the room, looking at various posters, album covers, and short write-ups on the history of the companies. Logan read them all, often making comments about the artists or something he knew about the labels. I was impressed with his knowledge but realized I shouldn’t be. He loved music and played around town. Of course he would know more than I did about the indie music scene. I had a feeling he would be invaluable to me during this process.
A steady beat filled the air, and Logan glanced toward the center of the room. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
I let him lead me to the dance floor and watched in awe as he lost himself to the music. He was lethal, moving sensuously, completely comfortable. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
“Relax, Snow Queen. Feel it. Just feel it. Move with me.” He nipped my ear. “Like you do when my cock is deep inside you.”
My eyes flew open in shock at his words, but I let him move me, and soon I was lost with him. Our eyes held, the desire blatant in his. The beat slowed, morphing into a love song. He pulled me close, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His gaze never left my face, his mouth forming around the lyrics as he sang them to me. I felt his stare to my core. I wanted him.
Except, right now, I couldn’t. I had to concentrate on my job. I shook my head to clear the fog of lust.
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?” he asked, a smile curling his lips, a repeat of the last time he’d asked me that question.
“As if you don’t know.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lottie. I’m simply looking at you. I like looking at you.”
“You’re all smoldery.”
“Smoldery? As a teacher, I gotta tell you—there isn’t such a word.”
“There is. It’s my word. And you are. All smoldery and sexy, with that wicked look on your face.”
His smile became a smirk, and he bent lower, his breath washing over my face. “Wicked look?”
I decided to shock him. “The one that says ‘You’re gonna let me fuck your ass one day, baby.’”
His eyebrows shot up. “My face says that?”
I smacked his chest. “Sometimes it does.”
He placed his lips against my ear. “And will you let me, Lottie?”
“Maybe,” I breathed out.
“I’ll take that as another rain check.”
“Whatever.”
He kissed my neck, nibbling on the skin. “Trust me, Lottie. When I claim your ass, whatever isn’t the word you’re going to be screaming out.”
I felt a thrill run through me as he ran his hand over my ass, cupping it and squeezing.
“I do plan on having this spectacular ass one day.” He chuckled and slid his hands back to my waist. “But somewhere far more private and without an audience.”
“Good plan.”
He nudged my nose with his. “I have lots of good plans when it comes to you.”
The song stopped, and Logan pulled me over to the bar where we got another drink. Both of us ordered tonic water with lime, and I sipped the icy beverage in appreciation.
Carmen approached us, smiling.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely,” Logan assured him. “Great music.”
Carmen nodded. “Some of our artists. Our studios are downstairs, as well as our offices.”
“I bet the acoustics are awesome in this building.”
“They are.” Carmen studied him. “You look familiar, Logan. I thought so as soon as Lottie introduced us. Have we met before today?”
I couldn’t stop myself. “Logan plays at different clubs around town. Maybe you’ve seen him? He’s very talented,” I added.
Logan shot me an irritated look, but Carmen simply laughed. “Your lady is proud.”
I glanced over Carmen’s shoulder and froze. My father was standing by the wall, observing us, his arms folded over his chest, looking displeased.
I left them talking. “Excuse me,” I murmured, and I approached my father.
“Charles.” I frowned. “I didn’t expect you to see you tonight.”
“Given your display, obviously.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Do you make a habit of allowing a stranger to grope you on the dance floor on a regular basis, Charlotte, or are you simply trying to fit in with the crowd?”
I was shocked he would think I would use someone as a prop.
“He is not a stranger,” I spat. “And he wasn’t groping me—we were dancing.”
He stepped forward, his voice low and furious. “Is he the reason you’re distracted these days, Charlotte? That…that degenerate is the reason you’re falling down on the job?”
“He is not a degenerate. I am doing my job, Charles,” I shot back. “I’m handling everything you’re allowing me to. You chose to switch my projects. Not me.”
“Who is he to you?” he demanded. “Someone you’re using to get back at me?”
I stared at him in horror.
That was what he thought of me. He assumed I was dancing and spending time with Logan to get back at him. He wrote him off as not being good enough because he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie. I shook my head sadly.
“You don’t even know him, and you’re casting aspersions on his character. Why? Because he has long hair? A beard?”
Heart Strings Page 12
