wrapped around his neck, drawing
him closer. Every nerve ending in my body sputtered and roared when he pulled
back just enough to see my face and gauge my conflicted expression.
“Stop,” I breathed.
“No!”
“I can’t, all right? I just…can’t. I won’t be another
conquest. Another girl for you to pursue like the one you met on the airplane.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? What girl? I
haven’t even looked at another woman!”
“Julia told me,” I confessed, holding his steely gaze in
mine. “About the woman you met a couple years ago and flew back and forth to
see, doing to her what you’re trying to do to me.”
“My sister had no right to tell you anything. If you want
to know about my past, then ask!” he all but roared, anger evident in his tight
expression. “And as for this woman she told you about, my sister has spun that
into something very different than it was. Have I ever met a woman on a plane
before? Yes, I have—more than one. Not that I feel it’s relevant, but if you
feel the need to hear about my past, then I’ll tell you. None of those women
ever got more than a one-time trip to the airport hotel.”
He was watching me as I stood there, hanging on every
word.
“However, due to geographical issues and a bored mind, I
found myself flying out to see one woman in particular who refused my advances.
My attention was caught, which was what she’d set out to do. She started a
game, trying to seduce me, and pulled back every time before I was satisfied.
“Did I want to date her, start a relationship? No! I
wanted to fuck her, and made that perfectly clear. She was the one who thought
she could persuade me otherwise—play me using sex so she could marry a man who
would help boost her placement in society. There were no feelings involved—we
played a game— and when I had my fill, I left. She knew exactly what it
was. I never led her on, which was why she went snooping into my life and tried
to meet my son.”
I didn’t know what to say. Of course he had a past—I knew
that—but the fact that he’d been infatuated with someone before, even if he’d
treated her differently, only fed my insecurities further.
“Don’t keep pushing me away. You’re not like her; you’re
not like any of them. I feel this. I do. You’re a part of me that I can’t
escape. I don’t ever want to. I’ll tell you whatever you need to hear, do
whatever I have to. But you have to stop pushing me away,” he pleaded, reaching
out to grab my hands, but I stepped back farther into the house.
“You should go. I’m sorry, but you need to let me go.
Don’t keep doing this to me, to you. It’s time to move on,” I said, beginning
to close the door.
He stood there, eyes dark and hard and jaw clenched until
the door latched shut.
The moment I turned the lock, my back slumped against the
closed door. The pain in my chest was gut-wrenching and tears pooled in my
eyes, but the thought of giving in was more terrifying.
A loud spin of tires pulled me from my thoughts and I
peeked out the front curtains to catch Logan peeling out of my driveway. But
instead of pulling into his, he flew down the road, heading toward town.
Chapter Eight
Poker Face
The next morning, I sat up,
having spent too much of the night staring at the bronze ceiling light, my mind
devoid of everything but him—the taste of his lips, feel of his hands. I wasted
hours trying to decipher the oddity of my emotions and undeniable sensations in
my body when he was near. The combination of his thick voice and deep,
thoughtful eyes did something to me I couldn’t comprehend. Worse was the
knowledge that he left angry, heading someplace unknown to do God knew what.
With a scrunched face, I grimaced at the throb in my
chest as I threw my legs off the side of the bed; it wasn’t from my bruised
ribs, but my angry heart. I didn’t want to miss him. I didn’t want to feel any
of these complex and infuriating
him closer. Every nerve ending in my body sputtered and roared when he pulled
back just enough to see my face and gauge my conflicted expression.
“Stop,” I breathed.
“No!”
“I can’t, all right? I just…can’t. I won’t be another
conquest. Another girl for you to pursue like the one you met on the airplane.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? What girl? I
haven’t even looked at another woman!”
“Julia told me,” I confessed, holding his steely gaze in
mine. “About the woman you met a couple years ago and flew back and forth to
see, doing to her what you’re trying to do to me.”
“My sister had no right to tell you anything. If you want
to know about my past, then ask!” he all but roared, anger evident in his tight
expression. “And as for this woman she told you about, my sister has spun that
into something very different than it was. Have I ever met a woman on a plane
before? Yes, I have—more than one. Not that I feel it’s relevant, but if you
feel the need to hear about my past, then I’ll tell you. None of those women
ever got more than a one-time trip to the airport hotel.”
He was watching me as I stood there, hanging on every
word.
“However, due to geographical issues and a bored mind, I
found myself flying out to see one woman in particular who refused my advances.
My attention was caught, which was what she’d set out to do. She started a
game, trying to seduce me, and pulled back every time before I was satisfied.
“Did I want to date her, start a relationship? No! I
wanted to fuck her, and made that perfectly clear. She was the one who thought
she could persuade me otherwise—play me using sex so she could marry a man who
would help boost her placement in society. There were no feelings involved—we
played a game— and when I had my fill, I left. She knew exactly what it
was. I never led her on, which was why she went snooping into my life and tried
to meet my son.”
I didn’t know what to say. Of course he had a past—I knew
that—but the fact that he’d been infatuated with someone before, even if he’d
treated her differently, only fed my insecurities further.
“Don’t keep pushing me away. You’re not like her; you’re
not like any of them. I feel this. I do. You’re a part of me that I can’t
escape. I don’t ever want to. I’ll tell you whatever you need to hear, do
whatever I have to. But you have to stop pushing me away,” he pleaded, reaching
out to grab my hands, but I stepped back farther into the house.
“You should go. I’m sorry, but you need to let me go.
Don’t keep doing this to me, to you. It’s time to move on,” I said, beginning
to close the door.
He stood there, eyes dark and hard and jaw clenched until
the door latched shut.
The moment I turned the lock, my back slumped against the
closed door. The pain in my chest was gut-wrenching and tears pooled in my
eyes, but the thought of giving in was more terrifying.
A loud spin of tires pulled me from my thoughts and I
peeked out the front curtains to catch Logan peeling out of my driveway. But
instead of pulling into his, he flew down the road, heading toward town.
Chapter Eight
Poker Face
The next morning, I sat up,
having spent too much of the night staring at the bronze ceiling light, my mind
devoid of everything but him—the taste of his lips, feel of his hands. I wasted
hours trying to decipher the oddity of my emotions and undeniable sensations in
my body when he was near. The combination of his thick voice and deep,
thoughtful eyes did something to me I couldn’t comprehend. Worse was the
knowledge that he left angry, heading someplace unknown to do God knew what.
With a scrunched face, I grimaced at the throb in my
chest as I threw my legs off the side of the bed; it wasn’t from my bruised
ribs, but my angry heart. I didn’t want to miss him. I didn’t want to feel any
of these complex and infuriating
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