“Nothing about this weekend will be uncontrolled.” Connor replied. “As far as you’re concerned, it starts now.”
Oh, he was all business.
Logan turned his head to Min, away from the camera and instructed with a wry whisper. “Please try not to look so terrified.”
“I’m n-n-not terrified,” Min whispered back. “I’m horrified. I’m don’t have a bra. You never said anything about an official freaking photographer.”
“I never knew about the photographer,” he said mildly.
“I’m wearing jeans.” And now she was getting caught up ‘in the look of it’ already.
“So am I. Don’t we just make the cutest couple?” He winked.
For a second she just gaped at him. And then she laughed.
He smiled back at her—a quick flash of that genuine wide smile, and it was like imps were dancing in his eyes.
“Perfect,” Pete called from a short way across the concourse.
Ten minutes later, baggage collected and a few photos taken, Min walked alongside Logan to the waiting car. Connor took the wheel of the oversized SUV, but Logan climbed into the back after ushering Min in.
“You sit in front, Dani,” he said and reached his arm out, drawing Min against his side. He glanced down at her when she looked up. “I’m cold,” he murmured.
Well he’d picked the wrong human heater. Nerves had sent her internal temperature plummeting.
As they left the airport, Min waited for the interrogation to begin. But Logan had turned total chatterbox. He asked question after question of Connor, then Danielle. Leaving no room for them to direct questions back at him. Or to her.
She tried to watch the scenery zipping past the window. But they’d arrived late in the evening and it was too dark to see much of the mountains other than the dim gleam of moon-lit snow on the peaks. She twisted the giant ring round her finger. Round and round as the car sped along the dark, curling road.
“Here you go, Min,” Dani finally spoke directly to her as Connor slowed the car. “Welcome to Summerhill.”
For a moment Min froze, staring up at the vast, brightly lit building. It was massive. The size thing seemed to be a theme with Logan and his family.
Too much.
It was a huge lodge, with twin staircases and stonework and windows emerging from a snow dusted scene.
Jeez. She was never going to pull this charade off.
But her car door opened. Logan had already gotten out and now stood, extending his hand to her.
“Ready?” he asked.
Wordless, she shook her head. But she took his hand anyway.
He chuckled. “It won’t be so bad.”
No?
His parents waited for them in the ‘Great Hall’. There wasn’t one humungous stoned edged fire, there were two, blazing at opposite ends of the hall. There were magnificent paintings along one wall, wide windows, and luxurious rugs. It was picture postcard stuff, warm and rich and so perfectly tasteful.
Min shrank inside.
“Logan, you’re finally here.”
Min watched as Logan’s mother approached him. Utterly perfect in appearance, she wore tailored clothing, perfectly applied make-up, with her brown hair in a sharp-edged bob. Logan had gotten his high-cheekbones from her, along with his paler blue eyes.
But it was his father who’d had the jet black hair. He slowly walked forward, a barely-there smile on his lips. No emotion at all in his almost navy eyes. He didn’t look at his eldest boy. He looked at Min. And frowned.
Neither parent reached out to hug their son.
Min cringed at the frigid atmosphere. With no photographer on hand, there was no need to maintain the appearance of perfection. And the reality was all ice.
“Mother. Father.” Logan acknowledged them, as they got to within five paces, and stopped. “I’d like you to meet Min. Min, meet Elaine and Rex.”
Min swallowed, but that tightness in her throat was too constricting. She smiled and nodded her head.
“Lovely to meet you, Min.” His mother turned and spoke to her. “We can’t wait to learn more about you and your family.”
Was there a veiled edge to that comment?
“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Logan replied quickly.
“Yes,” Rex added. “It will be fascinating to get to know you. You work, Min?”
“Min’s in PR.” Logan said with finality.
“How helpful,” Rex said. “But you’re originally from Minnesota, is that right?”
“Min and I are both very tired,” Logan didn’t bother answering the question and didn’t give Min a chance to. “We’ll head straight to bed, if you don’t mind.”
“You won’t have a light refreshment?” Elaine asked. “I want to hear all about the proposal. It’s a beautiful ring, Min.”
She’d seen it already? Min glanced at the back of her hand, blinking as the ring caught the light. Of course Elaine had noticed it, hell right now the astronauts on the International Space Station were probably wondering what the random flashes of light coming from North America were.
“We won’t have anything, thanks Mom. Tomorrow I’ll be taking Min on a tour and we’re out to dinner with old friends tomorrow night.”
Min was appalled at the cold way he spoke—no room for alternatives or compromise. He didn’t plan to spend any time at all with his parents.
“Well.” His mother smiled a big, polite smile. “That all sounds fabulous. Now I’ve put you in the same room, I assumed that would be all right given you’ve apparently been living together for weeks now.”
“Thank you.” Logan answered crisply. He walked towards the large windows that ran the length of the room, keeping a firm hold on Min’s hand so she was forced to go with him. “Which bedroom are we in?”
“The second floor guest suite.”
“Wonderful. We can find our own way, thanks.”
Min walked along side Logan. Would the guy ever relinquish her hand?
“You don’t need to speak for me. I’m not stupid,” she whispered furiously, the second she got him alone.
“I know that. I also know you get anxious about your stutter. You’ve got all weekend to talk to the old bastard.”
Bastard? Okay, she’d known things weren’t great with his folks, but that was insanely icy. Logan, for all his faults, was usually good-humored. But in that atmosphere he’d gone like granite and she didn’t feel adequately prepared. She wanted the wickedly amused look back in his eyes.
“You don’t think separate rooms might be more appropriate?” She tried to tease him. “This house is big enough, right? Or I could go into a suite at the hotel?”
He squeezed her hand. “I think we can handle it, don’t you?
Oh as if. But she’d suspected this situation might be in the offing and had made preparations.
“So this is the ‘compound’?” She gazed in amazement as they climbed the wide, stone stairs. This wasn’t even the actual resort? This was their private residence?
“Obviously this building is used for public functions as well. There’s both a walkway and a tunnel connecting us to the main resort. There’s another lodge there.”
“A tunnel?”
He nodded. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“Which was your childhood room?” Her eyes widened as they walked down the first floor corridor. There were so many doors leading off it.
“That’s long gone. I don’t even know what it’s been turned into.”
She frowned. “So where’s all your childhood stuff?”
Logan shrugged, glanced at her with an astute smile. “I don’t have much stuff.”
“No trophies?” She didn’t believe him.
“Oh I dumped them years ago.” He stopped by a large door. “Come on Min, welcome to my home.”
The bedroom was as oversized as everything else in the place. And as magnificent. A fire blazed in the grate, creating warmth and atmosphere. The heavy curtains were d
rawn and spread the length of one wall. She imagined there’d be a spectacular view in the morning. And there was a massive bed. Just the one.
“You feel sorry for me having to live here?” His eyes gleamed—mocking her. And himself.
“Don’t worry, I still think you’re a spoilt creature too used to getting your own way.” She tried to act cool.
Their bags were already placed by another set of doors. Min went straight to hers, she was going to need her armor.
“Well, that’s alright then.” His smile burst forth.
Min turned away, because yeah, who’d gotten her own way this morning? Who’d gotten the orgasm after the trip to the salon? She couldn’t possibly be feeling guilty about it, could she?
“I’m thinking I’m going to get my way tonight.” He stretched out his arms in a total preen moment and walked towards her.
He knew, didn’t he, that she wanted to see him satisfied too.
“When did you last have full sex?” she asked, glancing at the doors to scope which one led to the bathroom.
“Are we talking your weirdly limited definition of sex?”
“Yes. No. Any kind of sex.”
He sighed. “I haven’t had full penetrative sex since that night those two girls set up their phones and filmed me. Or any other kind for that matter. Not ‘til you, yesterday.”
No way. No wonder he was horny around her then. It was a total leveler.
“Why look so grim?” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at her. “That’s a bad thing?”
“Now I understand why you can’t keep your hands off me. It’s a proximity thing.”
“It’s not a proximity thing.” He snorted. “If I wanted sex I could get sex. I could walk out the door and bring a woman back in less than an hour if I wanted.”
Sad thing was he was right.
“So why haven’t you?” She really couldn’t figure it out. If he was the total playboy he was made out to be, he would be out there. But he wasn’t, was he?
He wasn’t that total playboy at all.
Somehow that thought didn’t make her feel any more comfortable. She didn’t want to have to revise her opinion of him.
But she already had.
“I haven’t felt like it,” he said.
She snorted. “You’re a guy. And you want it.” She sent him a look as she grabbed some things from her bag and marched into the bathroom. “What you like more than anything is a challenge.”
She bolted the door and showered for a really long time, whipping up her resistance. She was not giving in. Not falling for him. Not letting him win that easily.
She was not feeling for him, because the guy had a shocking relationship with his parents—she wasn’t bonding with him over that.
Finally, she emerged. Ready.
He was sprawled in the middle of the bed on his stomach, swiping his iPad. He glanced up, and froze. “Nice… pajamas?”
“Thanks.” She beamed at him. “It’s a onesie. Good for winter.”
“It’s something a baby wears, right?”
Exactly. You couldn’t get anything less sexy than this over-sized gray number.
“So all I have to do is slide that zipper right down and you’re naked, that right?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re n-n-not getting the chance.”
“Oh, okay.” he nodded. “Not tonight.”
“No.” She ignored the little stab in her heart at his easy acceptance. “Can I borrow your iPad?”
“Sure. I’ll go shower.”
He took almost as long as she had. She worked on the iPad the whole time, ensuring her accounts were as up to date as she could make them. Spent forever pre-loading tweets and comments.
She ran her fingers across her forehead. Hot. She frowned as she felt her damp skin. She was literally hot.
Logan finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel and a smile that revealed an evil sense of humor.
“Did you p-p-put more wood on the fire?” Somehow the bastard had turned up the heating in the room. She was sure of it.
“There’s a thermostat for heating, the fire is more for the look of it.”
Yeah, she’d known it. “You like to turn it up, don’t you?”
“I like to sleep naked, but I’ll wear some boxers so you’re not embarrassed,” he smiled. Turning away from her he dropped the towel.
OMG. He was buck naked and bending to reach for his boxers. His body was gleaming and taut and so, so fit.
Min sat up, forgetting her work. Forgetting everything but the sight before her.
Long, strong legs. Tight, muscled butt. Broad bone structure overlaid with toned muscle. Honed masculine perfection.
He pulled up the white cotton and snapped the waistband low round his hips. Then he turned and sat on the bed beside her, she felt his hip pressing against her thigh. He leaned in close, smiling in a wickedly conspiratorial way.
“Would you like me to have every kind of sex with you tonight, babe?” He braced his hands either side of her. “Gonna beg for me?”
“G-g-go away.”
“I’m being a considerate fiancé. All I want to do is tend to my beloved’s carnal needs.”
“You’re being a tease.”
He laughed, all challenge. “Not half the tease you are.”
Ouch. “You only want me because you can’t stand it that I won’t give in easily.”
“No. I want you because you’re gorgeous. And funny. You want me too. The problem is you don’t like me.”
Actually he was wrong about that.
She shook out her hands, suddenly tense. She should have brought a portable keyboard.
“Here.” He leaned back and took her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over her wrists.
“It’s okay, th-th-thanks.” She pulled her hands free.
He didn’t need to know how hard her pulse was pounding.
He suddenly smiled, the challenge fading from his eyes. “Come on, get into bed properly. You need sleep. So do I.”
She wriggled over to the far side of the wide mattress and stared at his stretched out boxers as he lay down beside her. He was huge. “How can you sleep like that?”
“On my back.” He chuckled and flicked out the light. “And I think about you. All the things I’m going to do to you to make you pay for this discomfort.”
“Oh.”
In the darkness his amusement was like a warm, living thing. So was her arousal.
“The answer to both of our problems is in your hands,” he said.
“So to speak.”
“So speak, Min. Beg for me and I’m yours.”
She rolled away to face the wall and said nothing. It wasn’t her throat, but her heart that had tightened this time. Even if she did beg, he’d never truly be hers.
Chapter Fifteen
#MorningGlory
Logan didn’t sleep on his back. He barely slept at all. He hated being in this house. It stifled him. They all expected him to do something irresponsible—he could see the disappointment in his mother’s eyes. The disapproval in his father’s. The uncertainty in Connor’s even.
But he wasn’t going to. He was going to occupy himself with Min. Be good with them, be bad with her. It was perfect, right? Balance.
He reached for the remote and adjusted the curtains so a bar of light entered the room. He didn’t like it so dark that he couldn’t see her. The pre-dawn light lifted the blinding gloom. He turned to his side to face her. So still, so pretty.
And so hot.
He liked only a sheet covering him but she’d thrown off even that light cotton covering. And she’d undone the zipper of that hideous suit. The zipper ran all the way down her sternum, to below her belly button so now, not unlike the strip letting light in between the curtains, he could see a strip of her skin.
She shifted suddenly, rolling towards him. Part of her sleep-suit was caught beneath her. That strip widened. He could see the curve of her soft breast.
>
Very nice.
Jeez he was hard.
She sighed, a long, decidedly sexy sigh, and he saw her hips shift again. And that breast? Her nipple had stiffened. She moved again, a small rocking of her hips.
Logan’s cock grew harder still while the rest of him froze. Was his prim fiancée having a sexy dream? All hot and restless? He could help her out. All she had to do was ask.
He reached out, gently stroking straight down her center with the very tip of his index finger. Her whole body was hot. Yet despite her heat she snuggled closer, hooking her lower leg around his.
Not so indifferent really.
“Good morning Min,” he teased.
“Shhhh.”
He smiled but she kept her eyes firmly shut. And her mouth.
He touched her more, tracing his fingers down that exposed path. Hell, she really was hot. And as his fingers skated below her navel, she moved, rocking her hips more firmly, more regularly.
“I know you’re awake,” he said quietly, he wasn’t going to let her get away with pretending otherwise. “We both know this isn’t a dream.”
“Then try to do your w-worst,” she whispered.
How could he resist? He loved the feel of her, the silken heat. Loved the way she moved, responding to every touch. So quick. So hot.
So he pleased her. Pleased himself.
Both hands. He explored, pulling the onesie apart so he could lick down her sternum, rub his jaw against her breast, circle his tongue around her nipple.
So soft yet so stiff. And so sweet.
Her hips lifted, driving her mound harder against him. He ran his fingers lower, her juices slickened them. If that wasn’t a yes, he didn’t know what was.
How could he not take as much of that breast as he could into his mouth? How could he not keep rubbing the swollen little nub jutting hard into his thumb? How could he stop when she colored so beautifully, when sweat dampened her hair, when she closed her eyes tight, her body scrunched up in ecstasy. But he didn’t slide his fingers inside her. Not one, two or the three he wanted to slide and scissor inside her. Even though he ached to feel her ride him, to clench on him, try to hold him inside—she wasn’t getting it all so easy.
Beg for Me Page 17
