Nothing was ever as it seemed. Nothing was ever as simple as black and white. People made mistakes.
But at some point you had to forgive. And move on.
All this time she’d been denying herself—and him—something they both wanted. He was hot, buttered sex. So what if she was just another notch on his bedpost? Who gave a monkey’s ass? Because he’d be a notch on hers too.
But deep inside, there was the knowledge that she was ignoring—that for her, this was more than notches and games.
She just plain liked him. And she just plain wanted him.
“I d-d-didn’t m-mean what I said last night,” she said, pressing closer against him, curling her fingers to gently caress his cheek.
He stiffened. “Min?”
“I was jealous,” she said softly, lifting her chin so her face was only inches from his. “B-because I want you for myself.”
“No. You don’t. I just told you what I jerk I am.” He shook his head, his gaze fixed on her mouth, but he’d stiffened against her, like he was about to pull away.
“Was,” she pointed out.
“No.” He moved his head slightly, brushing his roughened jaw against her palm in a gesture as gentle as it was negating. “This isn’t happening. Not because I told you my stupid sob story about Connor and dad. I didn’t tell you all this to—”
“It’s n-not because of that,” she said.
He swallowed. “Then let me be honest.” He shifted, inching closer, sliding one hand to her waist and holding her tightly. “I don’t give a fuck about scoring points anymore. I’ll roll over like a damn dog if that’s what it takes. But I’m not going another day without telling you how much I ache to be with you, inside you. I’m begging Min. I want you and I’m begging. Absolutely begging. Will you be with me?”
Min caressed the rough stubble on his jaw. “N-no.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
#WinBig
She heard his harshly indrawn breath. Felt him freeze.
“Because I’m begging,” she whispered quickly, rising onto tip-toes, spreading her hand to frame his face. “I’m begging.”
He wrapped both arms tightly round her waist, hauling her into a bear hug so she was plastered against his taut, damp body. “No, I already have,” he said. “I did it first. I’m begging. I give in. I want you,” he muttered breathlessly. “Will do anything you want.”
“What if there’s n-no winner?” she asked, holding her breath.
“Both winners?” His eyebrows lifted and amusement kindled in his eyes.
Yes.
She smiled. Laughter and relief flooded her.
He was here. He was okay. He wanted what she wanted. Just for now.
He lifted his hand and brushed back the hair that had loosened from her braid. “Oh Min,” he breathed.
“I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered. “Celibacy?”
“Silly-bacy.”
She chuckled.
He half-laughed too, but his roguish smile soon faded. “I missed you,” he said. “All night. All I could think about was... Regret so much...”
“Forget it.” She just wanted now. Tonight.
“You’re sure?” He twisted her braid around his hand.
Min couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, her breathing came short and fast—her heat thumped faster still.
Once. She could have this once. Everything with him, just the once.
She’d been denying herself the experience of a lifetime—the pleasure of a lifetime—from fear. Well there were worse things to be afraid of.
Missing out altogether, never having the chance again. That was worse.
Being with Logan would be the ultimate sensual adventure and she was a fool for not taking him sooner. But more than the chemistry they shared, she liked him. Which was why it could only be the once. Once while they were away... and then the fiancée farce would end.
And this would be over.
“Yes,” she said. “Kiss me. P-p-properly.”
He tugged on her braid, tilting her face. Her mouth parted, she met his eyes. The pale blue in his was almost burned out, consumed by the passion-swollen pupils.
Pure need rendered her mute.
She heard his groan as he bent his head. But he didn’t kiss her mouth. He pressed the lightest little kiss to her upper cheekbone. Then another slightly lower. Another to her other cheekbone. Another slightly lower.
Over and over he dropped light, teasing kisses everywhere but where she wanted him most. She licked her lips and lifted her chin that little bit higher, trying to tempt him. But still he teased, until those little kisses came closer, closer, closer to her lips. He was all tease.
She held so still, not breathing. So turned on.
But it wasn’t his mouth that finally touched hers, but his tongue. The lightest, quickest trace of her upper lip—dipping in her cupid’s bow. Sensation shivered through her.
Only then did he press his lips to hers.
Finally.
She fell, relaxing against his solid strength, letting him control the angle. He feathered light kisses over her lips again and again and again. Tantalizing. Until she began to stir, until she could no longer hold back the desire to move. To draw closer. To demand.
But he gripped her braid tightly at the nape of her neck, holding her head still. His hand at her back pushed her against his body. He was so hard, yet so controlled.
And she needed more.
She opened, licked him as he touched her, tasting him. Teasing him with a swirl of her tongue every time he brought his lips near.
Until he groaned and sealed his mouth to hers. He caressed, working his mouth in the longest, sweetest kiss. She sucked on his tongue and heard him groan again—felt the yearning in his tension. Yeah, she wanted to take more of him into her mouth. To heat every part of him as he heated her.
Their mouths broke apart for the merest second before joining again. Again, again, again. She couldn’t get enough. Kissing him like crazy. Pressing close. Kissing more.
And nor, it seemed, could he. Like teens first making out, first discovering the joy of touch, of pressing close, of sharing breath, they kissed.
She reveled in the intimacy of looking into his eyes, only a heartbeat, a whisper apart. She needed that final space breached.
Only then, as she scored her tongue along the roof of his mouth, she felt his violent shiver. Her heart seized as she remembered his condition.
Tired, wet, cold.
He was probably borderline hypothermic and here she was just taking all she could from him.
She broke the kiss and leaned back to see more clearly, “You should have a shower.”
He stared at her, the hard sensual look in his eyes eased, ruefulness emerged. “I’m getting you wet and dirty. Sorry.”
“You are,” she teased with a slow circle of her hips. “But I meant you’re c-cold.”
“No. Not cold,” he denied. “Not now.”
Their eyes met, she knew he was remembering her ‘zombie’ jibe. She didn’t want to remember it.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he said, kissing her again.
“I’ll shower with you,” she promised as she broke free of his grip. To prove it, she lifted her tee shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor.
He kept pace right behind her as she went into the bathroom and flicked on the faucet to get the shower running hot.
She turned back to face him. Now she saw the urgency in his eyes. The heated, focused way he gazed at her breasts.
She stepped up to him. Their mouths met, met again as he shrugged out of his jacket. The kisses were too good to stop for long. But he couldn’t manage the buttons of his shirt.
He groaned. “My hands are too cold.”
“I know,” she teased. “You’re not t-t-touching my skin until they’re warmer.” She popped open the buttons of his shirt and tugged it out of his pants. Then she spread it wide and took a moment just to look.
He had the most sensational chest. Broad, muscled, finely sprinkled with hair that arrowed down below his belt.
“Min.”
She lifted her gaze to see the burning ache deepening in his eyes. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, wanting him bared. But then the shirt got stuck.
“Cuff links.” He mumbled. “Sorry.”
She giggled at the sweet awkwardness of trying to strip him. This was no smooth seduction scene with slick, practiced moves. As she tried to free a cufflink, he was trying to remove his pants with his other hand.
“I can’t do this fast enough,” he growled.
“Let me.”
She loved it. Loved his muffled curse as it took too long to get him free of the trousers. He pushed her hands away as she reached for his boxers.
“I need to do that,” he muttered.
He yanked his boxers down and peeled off his socks, bending with a groan. And then he straightened, standing bare before her.
He was perfect. Even when covered in goose bumps, when his hands were in tight fists, when his hair was damp and mussed and a smudge of dirt was streaked across his upper cheekbone, the guy was still pure physical perfection.
But while his body was as erotic as it got, it was the expression in his eyes that undid her. He was so ready. So wanting.
So hers.
She took a couple of paces forward and pushed him back under the spray of water. “You need to get warm.”
“I’m warm enough now.” He was looking at her like he was about to devour her.
“Logan,” she smiled. “You need to get warm.”
“Come here and help me then.”
She shimmied out of her jeans, her socks, she unclasped her bra and let it fall. Then she pushed her panties down. He stood, rigid as the water splashed over him, just watching her.
And she felt beautiful. She smiled at him almost shyly, as now naked, she stepped into the shower space with him. Because he was looking at her like he’d never seen a naked woman before.
She poured a handful of shower gel onto her hand and moved to stand behind him. Firmly she swept her hands over his back in circles, rubbing him to warm him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, stiffening under her hands even as he leant into her.
“Warming you up,” she answered with a smile.
“I don’t need a nursemaid.” He whirled quickly, pressing her against the shower wall with his body. “I just need you.”
The teasing, relieved laughter died, intensity flared in its place.
She felt his erection pressing against her belly, in pure reflex she parted her legs, softening, heating inside.
Hunger roared.
She couldn’t stay still. She circled her hips, an age-old dance, a tease. A temptation—her body calling his. She met his gaze.
Ice-blue, wild. Dangerous. So utterly Logan.
He kissed her, a fast, rough kiss. His lips pressed on hers, his tongue sought entry. She didn’t keep him at bay—no more of that. No more taking and not giving. She opened, sought to taste him. To lash him with passion, the way he did to her.
He ran his hands down her sides firmly. She shivered, despite the streaming heated water coursing over them. He swept one hand back up her belly, his palm spread wide and flat he pressed, claiming. He cupped her breast, bending to kiss the uppermost curve, to lick away the trails of water that ran over her skin.
She moved, rocking instinctively as he pressed harder against her. Caught between the shower wall—and the wall of muscle that was Logan—it was a heavenly prison.
“I want to see you come again,” he muttered roughly as he kissed back up the length of her neck.
She shook her head violently, even as she squeezed on her inner muscles—as excitement burned bringing her to the brink. “Not... without you... inside... was the deal.”
She raked her fingers down his back to emphasize it—she wasn’t accepting anything less. She was having it all this time. She was having him.
He cursed softly, arching into her nails as she scored him. And then he stepped back. “Condom,” he muttered. “Need it.”
He peeled away from her and Min bit back the moan of loss. She remained leaning against the wall as she watched him hurriedly open the cabinet, pulling out a couple of foil squares.
She turned the shower off and waited.
Gritting his teeth he rolled the rubber on his hard cock. “I don’t want to let you down...” he muttered. “But I’m so...” he stared across the small room at her, then closed his eyes as if looking at her were too much to bear.
“You won’t,” she murmured.
He opened his eyes and walked towards her.
The ache consumed her. The emptiness drove her. She wanted his total possession. She wanted him to push deep and claim all the space within her. She knew he would. He was too big not to—not just physically, but in personality. In dynamism. Vitality.
She was ready to beg.
Silent, he looked at her. She saw his tension mounting, his erection straining impossibly harder.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t move towards him to meet him halfway. Yet her body was reacting—she was slick, ready. Her breasts felt full, heavy, her nipples hot and tight. And her mouth was so hungry.
“Min.” He drew in a deep, jagged breath as he reached her.
He buried his hands in her hair, dragging her lips closer to his again.
He kissed down the side of her neck, his mouth hot and hungry. Sliding like wisps of burning silk—soft but torturous. His tongue licked, like she was a sweet ice he hurried to catch every last drop as she melted.
And she melted.
“I’ve wanted this... feels like forever,” he muttered.
She opened for him. Pouring all that she couldn’t say into her kiss.
Warm, deep, loving.
She screwed her eyes shut. Not loving. Liking.
She did like him. She’d missed him. She wanted him.
He suddenly bent and hoisted her into his arms. For a guy who’d run a million miles in the last twenty-four hours, he was still damn strong. Full of stamina.
She curled her toes, anticipation knotting her muscles.
Too soon, yet not soon enough, he placed her on the bed.
“I want you,” he said. “Want to be in you. Now.”
Fine by her.
She raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him, let her legs part. Still damp from the shower. Still burning up.
“I can’t tell you the things I want to do...” He bent over her.
She arched.
He paused, hovering over her, that wicked smile suddenly stole into his eyes. “You want me to?” he teased.
She bit her lip, but couldn’t hold back her matching smile.
“Oh babe, you don’t wanna know.” He groaned and lowered onto her. “Gonna get inside you this time. So tight. Gonna rub.”
He was so heavy, deliciously, dominantly heavy. She liked him weighting her, securing her. Pinning her.
“You want me on top?” he asked, looking sly. “Or you want me some other way?”
He kissed her, rolled with her. Held her above him. Kissed her again. Then rolled again, spreading her for his pleasure. For his touch.
He laughed, wickedly whispered where next his mouth was going to land. And followed through with his tongue, his fingers. Until she was burning, writhing. And sought retribution.
She twisted, escaping his grip only to capture him. She kissed him, swirled her thumbs in circles to torment his nipples, nipped at the sensitive skin just below his ear. Licked each and every indentation of his defined abs, working her way to the ultimate prize.
Only he swore, he groaned. He threatened.
And moved. Fast, strong he tumbled her onto her back, thudded over her in a heavy force. But then he froze, bracing in place, rigid above her, his hard cock pressing at her entrance.
There was a moment of silence. He didn’t threaten—didn’t even tease. He looked
into her eyes. His shone that light, bright blue.
“Take me. Min,” he said softly. “Please, please, please.”
Begging for her.
She rocked her hips, sliding her damp sex over the blunt head of his erection. She couldn’t answer. Breathless, so hot. She couldn’t think. There was only one thing driving her.
She needed him.
She pulled him down to kiss him. With her other hand she grabbed his butt, curling her fingertips into the tight, hard muscle she pushed him towards her. She wanted him to fill her.
He thrust. Hard.
She arched, mouth parting as she gasped at the power of him, at the sensations shooting through her. He paused a second, then thrust again so he was as deep as he could get. Instinctively she curled her legs around his hips, opening as much as she could. And then she locked him in.
But he held still, gazing down at her, his breathing rapid and jerky. His expression rigid, his biceps bunched. As she swept her hand over his shoulder, he flinched, then smiled, shaking his head a little.
She didn’t care if he was to near the edge. She needed to touch him. Needed to rub him and pull him closer. Because he felt so good.
Sensations shivered through her body, tumbling over her, building in intensity. She savored them, the sheer indulgent bliss of him.
So close.
Slowly he rocked, thrusting fractionally deeper into her. Then he slid back. She arched, not wanting him to leave her even the smallest millimeter. She smashed her hands on his butt, squeezing on the tight bunched muscle to push him closer again, swept her hands up his back, over his shoulders so she could cling to him. She writhed under his weight, seeking movement.
“Oh Min, you want it hard, babe?”
She did. So hard. So out of control. So now.
He met her eyes for a strained, secret moment.
And then he gave it to her. Stronger, faster, rougher. He thrust over and over. Powerfully pushing as deep as he could, again and again.
She rocked with him, clinging tightly as he led their dance. Wild, wilder still. She bit the inside of her cheek, silencing herself as the pleasure built.
Beg for Me Page 25
