The door droned again and she realized she'd yet to press the buzzer to let him in. “Who is this?” She was stalling. Having no idea what to do, she sipped from her cocoa, burning her tongue, but barely feeling it.
A soft laugh, hardly more than a breath sounded over the intercom, making her insides turn to molten liquid. “Open. The. Door.” He sighed. “Please.”
She was very proud of the fact that her fingers only shook a little as she reached for the buzzer, holding it for a long moment. With nothing left to do, she sat on the edge of her couch and waited. Within moments she could hear his feet slapping against the steps as he climbed them with haste. A breath later and he rapped at her door. Tap-tap, tap-tap.
Little pig, she thought. Little pig. Let me come in.
With her heart in her mouth, she pulled the door open a couple of inches, peering out into the hallway and the chocolate eyes that waited for her in the gloom. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you even know where I lived?”
“Company policy,” he told her. “All the employees' addresses are on file.”
“I haven't even signed the contract yet.” She refused to budge, leaving the door just barely cracked open.
He shoved it, his strength easily pushing her out of the way, and strode inside, Sophie backing away. She slumped onto her couch when her knees hit the back of it, watching him as he closed, latched and locked the door. Trapped.
He stalked her, throwing his overcoat on the back of her couch, and perched on the edge of her coffee table with his hands dangling between his knees. He looked good enough to eat in a dark shirt and jeans with lightly scuffed boots shoved on his feet, the laces loosely tied. He looked like he'd been running his fingers through his hair and Sophie had the insane urge to comb it for him while he sat in between her legs. Madness. She noted a bandage on his right hand and frowned in question.
He ignored her pointed look, shrugging instead. “Your receptionist is quite chatty,” he explained, smiling. “So...”
“So?”
“What's up?”
“Erm,” she shifted, tucking her knees up and doing her best to cover her entire legs with the robe. “Not much? Again, why are you here?”
“Have you been crying?” he asked instead of answering her. “Why are you crying into your cocoa, sis?”
She winced at the moniker, wishing he'd take it back. She wasn't his 'sis'. She wasn't really his anything, anymore. “I wasn't crying.”
“You always were a terrible liar,” he shrugged, tapping her knee with one slender finger.
She wanted to melt. “I was not.”
“You were too,” he argued, swirling a finger from his undamaged hand around her knee-cap, disrupting the material of her robe so that it gaped slightly, falling off one knee – the one he played with. Not missing a beat, he dragged his finger a bit higher, dipping it into the V of her robe and pulling it wider. “Tell me the truth and I'll stop.”
She didn't know if she wanted him to stop – but she knew that she needed him to. “I was crying because I was upset.”
“A good start,” he murmured, leaning forward, going to one knee on the floor before her. His finger continued its torturous journey up her thigh, spreading her robe as it went. “Now tell me why you were upset.”
“No,” she gasped as he reached her hip, grabbing the robe between finger and thumb with a raised brow. “It's private,” she protested.
“Ah,” he whispered, moving close enough to plant a kiss on her knee. “I see.” He gave her another kiss, this one open-mouthed and higher. She could see where this was going. “There was a time when you'd tell me everything.” He gazed at her, heat in his expression. “Anything.”
He dragged his tongue higher on her thigh and she finally cracked, squeaking like a mouse and launching herself out of his reach. Now she wished she'd put some real clothes on. “Stop, Logan.”
“Why?” he asked, his face a picture of innocence. She could smell the booze on his breath as he followed her across the couch, ending with him kneeling between her spread legs. “You love it,” he whispered. “I know you do. Look at yourself, breathing harsh, legs falling open for me as if I belonged here.” He placed his index finger at the apex of her thighs, and a breathless moan escaped her throat. “Why not just give in?”
“I don't have to tell you my private feelings. That's not who we are to each other now,” she admitted after what seemed like an eternity where he just rested the tip of his finger against her private flesh.
With what she could only describe as a shutting-down process, he moved away, sitting beside her, using the back of his bandaged hand to dismissively close her damned open legs. “I'm here,” he whispered, the moment seeming more intimate somehow. “Because I heard the upset in your voice. I needed to see you.”
“Why?” she asked, her eyes wide, not daring to hope.
“That,” he said clearly completely shut-down. “Is not the game we're playing.”
“What game are we playing?” she asked recklessly, her breathing still choppy and uneven.
“Tit for tat,” he replied. “I answered your question. Now you answer mine. Why were you upset?”
“I don't know, really,” she croaked, not willing to tell him just yet.
“That's another lie,” he scolded, inserting his hand between her knees. “Do you really want to continue?”
Yes, her body cried. No, her mind disagreed. “I was upset because...”
“Because...” His hand slid further up her thigh, almost all the way and she found them widening instinctively.
“Because I just realized you'd been ignoring me all weekend.”
“Ignoring you? How?” His hand stalled, reversed, slid out from between her legs and rested on his own denim-clad thigh.
Feeling like she'd lost something precious, she sighed. “I asked you on Wednesday if you'd be back for the weekend. You never answered me.”
“Did you miss me?” he surprised her by asking.
She considered it. Didn't want to answer it. “My turn,” she said instead.
With a brisk nod of his head, he settled his gaze on hers. “Ask me.”
“Why didn't you answer me?”
“I wanted you to miss me.”
“Why?” Her heart kicked up a notch. This was her Logan. This was the man she'd fallen in love with.
“My turn,” he grinned. “Did you?”
With a small frown, she leaned forward. “Did I what?”
“Miss me.”
Throwing caution to the wind, she reversed her position so that she could get closer to him, swinging her knees around to the other side. “Yes. Why did you need to see me?”
“Because,” he replied, his face remote. “I thought you might have been having the dreams again.”
“And you wanted to comfort me, is that it?” Her heart stalled as she waited for his answer, but he only smiled and wagged a finger at her in a 'uh-uh' motion.
It was his turn. “How many men have you fucked since you ran out on me?”
The question caught her off-guard, and she started, her eyes going wide. “None.” Her answer was instantaneous.
He sighed. “Do I have to keep punishing you for lying to me?” He lifted her on to his lap, his strength amazing her.
~
Logan
Settling her thighs around his hips, he felt his cock swell and asked himself for the hundredth time why he'd come. He hadn't been lying about needing to see for himself that she wasn't upset and suffering, but the fact remained that he didn't know why he still cared. Pulling on the ends of her belt, he loosened the knot and spread her robe wide, noting with a small surprise that she was wearing an old shirt of his. One he'd given her before he'd left for the coast. She'd said she couldn't sleep without him anymore, and so he'd given her his shirt to remind her of him.
At the time it had seemed like such an innocent thing, her not being able to sleep in her huge bed alone – he'd spent so many nigh
ts holding her through her pain that her bed had felt more like his than his own had. Now he had to wonder if she just wanted it for the same reason every girl wants her guy's shirt – to smell him at night. “How many?” he repeated, splaying his hands on her hips.
“None,” she said once more, making his cock jerk. What a pretty little liar she was.
He pulled her closer, not trying to be gentle, and heard her stifled gasp when he bit a nipple through the material of her – his – shirt. “How fucking many?” he growled around her rapidly stiffening flesh.
She gasped again, snatching his head to her, holding him close. “None.”
With a growl he twisted them sideways, lying her down on the plush couch, while settling himself between her thighs, their bodies touching from head to toe. He buried his nose into her neck, licking and biting while she moaned incoherently. “How many?”
She thrust her hips upwards, meeting him, grinding against him. “None.”
Chapter Six
Quickly sliding her panties to the side with one hand, he thrust two fingers inside her, feeling her greedy pussy clamp on them. She threw her head back, raising her shoulders off the couch, and Logan almost lost his shit when she raised her own shirt – his damn shirt – and rolled her nipples between her fingers. “How many?” he groaned. She had to be lying. She had to be.
“None,” she panted, fucking his hand.
A sly grin spread his lips as he finger-fucked her, bringing her to the very brink of orgasm before stopping cold and removing his fingers, watching in satisfaction as she sank back to the couch, whining and wriggling in frustration. “Please...”
“How many?” he asked again. “Tell me,” he said, sliding his fingers back inside her and crooking them against that sweet spot. “Tell me and I'll let you come. Lie to me again,” he promised. “And you can finish yourself off instead. How many?”
She gazed into his eyes, desperation warring with anger. Desperation won, and he knew whatever came out of her mouth next was the truth. He crooked his fingers once, twice, three times, and felt her clamp down again, jerking and writhing as she started to cum on his hand. “Tell me!” he demanded.
“None,” she cried. “None, none, fucking none!”
With a savage roar he took her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside the way he wanted to shove his cock inside her. She moaned around his flesh, sucking his tongue. “None,” she whispered again when he came up for air, her pussy still jerking in after-shocks.
“None?” he asked, bewildered. His cock jerked again, straining against the material of his jeans and he felt like the worst sort of bastard for using sex against her, when she obviously hadn't been with anyone since him. That fact repaired a small piece of his wounded heart, and he felt anger stir inside him. He didn't want her to fix him.
She shook her head, smiling, full of the after-glow of a really good orgasm. “No. I haven't slept with anyone. Not since you.”
“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged. “I never felt for anyone what I felt for you.”
“Don't!” he leaped off her as if she were on fire. He didn't want to hear those words from her. Not now. Not after everything. Not yet. He needed to think about things. “I have to go.”
“Go?”
“Yes,” he hissed, anger overshadowing anything else. “It's late,” he sighed. “I have work in the morning.”
He watched the disappointment flare in her eyes for a moment before he spoke again. “This,” he indicated towards her with a flick of his fingers. “Was a once off, understand? From now on, your pleasure is secondary to my own.” He felt satisfaction settle in his chest when she pulled her robe tight around her once more, hiding from him. Hiding from what they'd just done.
She nodded once. “Will you call me?”
The hopeful look on her face – even after his latest statement – almost destroyed his resolve to leave. “Tuesday,” he replied. Tuesdays were their days to speak on the phone.
“Tuesday,” she repeated with a sigh, curling up and falling asleep almost instantly.
He spent a precious moment looking at her, her face soft and expressionless in her slumber. Grabbing a throw from the back of the couch, he covered her, placing a light kiss on her forehead. Shit, he really was going to fall in love with her all over again if he wasn't careful.
Backing away, he decided that his plan to put some serious distance between them if he wanted to keep his heart intact this time, had to be implemented immediately. After all, he wasn't here for the long haul. He was in her life until he was in a position to let her feel first hand exactly what he'd felt when she'd left him. The moment she did, he was gone, out of here. Picking up his overcoat from the floor where it had fallen, he thrust his arms through, shifting uncomfortably in his jeans. Man, it was going to be a long, frustrating night.
~
Sophie
“Well holy shit.” Alex grabbed her arm as she strode past, pulling her into their shared office with a gleeful expression.
“What?” Sophie asked, settling herself into her chair gingerly. Her sensitive flesh, not used to the rough treatment of Logan's fingers, ached, and she winced as she crossed her legs.
“You got some. Tell me everything.”
“I did not get some.” Her denial was a token protest – Alex laughed as her blush spread into her hairline.
“You did so. You have this wistful smile on your face the past week that announces it loud and clear. Now spill it, Sophie. I need details.”
Sighing, she prepared herself to lie. Nobody must know that she'd mutely agreed to Logan's demands. Alex would take the job off the table herself, even though work had been slowing down the last week or so. They needed this job. “It's no one,” she lied. “I met him in a bar.”
“Oh, my God, Sophie Ellis, I didn't think you were the type!” Alexis slumped into her own seat, jealousy marring her face. “Tell me every detail. I have no sex-life of my own.”
“Alex,” she sighed. “If you'd only just have a proper conversation with Joshua, I bet your sex-life would trump a porn-star's.” Doctor Cain had that look about him. You know the look – the one that said, 'I'm a business man by day and a sex fiend by night'. His swagger said that he knew how to use his body to please a woman, and if his angry outburst was anything to go by, he'd decided that Alex was on the list.
Her partner waved away the comment. “Let's not go there today. He is a pig. Imagine telling me I was using my sessions with him to fuel my own never-ending guilt.”
Sophie thought Joshua had a point, but judging by the irritated look in Alex's eye, she definitely wasn't going to say so. “Imagine that,” she snickered.
“Well, he doesn't have to worry about that anymore. Now make with the deets.” Alex leaned forward, both elbows on her desk, looming over the paperwork scattered here and there.
“Like I said,” she sighed. “He's nobody.”
“Nobody, my eye. You're glowing. I'd like to meet a nobody like him.” With a laugh, her partner picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Keep him to yourself if you must, Sophie. For now, anyway.”
For now was probably all she'd get. It was obvious that despite the tiny flashes of what she considered the real Logan buried underneath all the bitterness, he'd turned into a bit of an asshole. Did she want more than now with that sort of man? Returning her gaze to Alex, she found herself fighting laughter as the woman spoke down the phone, her lips moving a mile a minute.
“Please tell Doctor Cain to stop calling me, Calli. Yes, I understand that he's concerned, but I have decided that I no longer need him. Yes, do quote me. Thank you. You too, goodbye.”
“What was that?” Twirling a pen in her fingers, Sophie leveled a measured look at her friend. “Did you just ask Joshua's secretary to tell him you don't need him?”
“What?” Alex asked, defensive. “I don't.”
“Mmhmm. You just shook a tiger by the tail, my friend. He won't like that.”
Sophie wasn't so sure, but whatever – Alex would find out soon enough either way. She had her own problems to deal with at the minute, the biggest of which was named Logan. What did he mean by saying her pleasure would be secondary to his from now on? Surely he couldn't mean to just use her completely. Logan was not like that, ever, and she refused to believe that he'd become some sort of sadist since she'd left him, caring for nothing but himself.
Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts, and Serena's name flashed across the screen when she fished it out of her bag. “Hey,” she said, pressing the answer button.
“Hey, Soph. I need a favor.” Her friend sounded panicked, her voice low and hurried.
“Oh, I'm fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Serena had obviously gotten herself into more trouble. Every time she rang, she always had a story to tell. If Sophie didn't know how Serena hated lies, she'd think they were all made up. Last time it had been something about a man in a gorilla suit chasing her out of the grocery store with a bunch of bananas. The entire story had been bananas, come to think of it.
“Sophie,” she admonished. This is serious.”
“Sorry. What do you need?” Transferring her attention from the papers in front of her, where she'd somehow doodled Logan's name – a quick glance showed Alex deep in thought, thin-rimmed glasses sitting on the end of her button nose – to her friend, scribbling out the doodle in a rush.
“I have a wedding coming up.”
“So?” Serena always panicked about any sort of social function. This was nothing new.
“It's Micheal’s,” she deadpanned.
Well, this was a problem. Micheal had been Serena's first love and teenage boyfriend. They'd split up shortly before college started, both separated by almost the breadth of the country. There were long-distance relationships, but they may as well have been in different countries. The thing was, she'd never gotten over him. “Oh, honey I'm so sorry.” She must have been devastated.
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