CHAPTER ONE
Logan
The server had to ask me twice before I cleared my
throat and ordered a Perrier. Food, drink, the drama with
Delilah--none of it mattered when I was sitting across from
Melissa.
My submissive.
The woman I let in my bed...and my heart.
When Melissa’s bright blue eyes dropped to the menu
in her hands, tongue smoothing over her lips like she could taste
the items with perfect clarity, desire stirred inside me. She made
everything else go quiet. She was the calm after the storm.
"And for you, ma'am?" the server chirped.
Melissa’s gaze flickered to me, a moment of silence
passing between us. I arched an eyebrow, and she followed suit.
"Not ordering for me whether I like it or not?"
My lips pulled into a smirk that was just for us.
"Trust me, the next time I give an order, you'll like it."
Red colored her cheeks as she snapped the menu in the
direction of our server. "A-A mocha, please. And a croissant." Once
the waitress dashed away to put in our order, Melissa's eyes
narrowed. "Stop looking at me like we're not in a restaurant,
surrounded by people. People that will mind if you do what your
eyes are hinting at--which is bend me over the table."
I reached for her hand, my
fingertips stroking her skin. I drank in the shiver that echoed
through her. "I don't care if we're in a restaurant or standing on
the Golden Gate Bridge. You're gorgeous, and you're mine. If these
past two weeks taught me anything, it's that I can't take my eyes
off you. And for the record, I’m using every ounce of self control
to hold back my desire to sweep everything off the
table-"
Her eyes bulged knowingly.
“ I guess I don’t need to finish the
thought,” I grinned.
“ Logan!” she hissed, cheeks
darkening.
God, I loved her.
How was this possible? How could she make it all go
away, just by existing? One smile from her and something in me
believed that everything would be alright.
She twirled a blonde strand lazily
around her finger. Not in the ditzy, coy way I was used to from
other women, eyes vacant as they tried futilely to convince me that
our connection was more than it was. Melissa's eyes were pensive,
taking it all in like she was genuinely in awe of every moment. She
didn't take a single thing for granted.
She drummed her fingertips on the white linen
tablecloth, eyes shooting to the crystal chandelier overhead. "The
lighting, the lack of prices on the menu, the paintings on the
wall-" Her evaluation came to a halt as she cleared her throat,
snatching her hands into her lap.
"Is something wrong?" I asked quickly, ready to move
heaven and earth if that would make her happy. Stroll right out the
door if she was dissatisfied with the cafe. The back door, because
even with our table nestled away from prying eyes, I knew the
photographers were out front, dying for a shot of us together.
Photographic evidence that I was the billionaire playboy,
abandoning my child in favor of my latest conquest.
"No," she answered, gaze settling on me. "It's just
when you said 'cafe' I guess I pictured something a little less
fancy. Which was dumb because you're--well, you know what you
are."
I cleared my face of all emotion. I knew what she was
getting at, but I couldn't resist playing with her a little. "And
what, pray tell, am I?"
Her nostrils flared. "Rich. Filthy rich."
The only word that mattered was filthy. My body could
care less that we were out in public, cock hardened to rock with
memories of her stretched out on my desk, her silken wetness
wrapped around me as I took her.
"You think you're slick," she said, twisting her
golden strands until they spilled over one shoulder.
Another word that had me gripping the arm of my
chair, struggling to keep my composure.
Slick.
My thoughts must have been clear as
day because she gave me a demure smile that clutched her hot little
mouth. "I know exactly what you're doing. It's the same
thing I'm doing,
talking about this cafe, while you're screwing me with your
Logan
The server had to ask me twice before I cleared my
throat and ordered a Perrier. Food, drink, the drama with
Delilah--none of it mattered when I was sitting across from
Melissa.
My submissive.
The woman I let in my bed...and my heart.
When Melissa’s bright blue eyes dropped to the menu
in her hands, tongue smoothing over her lips like she could taste
the items with perfect clarity, desire stirred inside me. She made
everything else go quiet. She was the calm after the storm.
"And for you, ma'am?" the server chirped.
Melissa’s gaze flickered to me, a moment of silence
passing between us. I arched an eyebrow, and she followed suit.
"Not ordering for me whether I like it or not?"
My lips pulled into a smirk that was just for us.
"Trust me, the next time I give an order, you'll like it."
Red colored her cheeks as she snapped the menu in the
direction of our server. "A-A mocha, please. And a croissant." Once
the waitress dashed away to put in our order, Melissa's eyes
narrowed. "Stop looking at me like we're not in a restaurant,
surrounded by people. People that will mind if you do what your
eyes are hinting at--which is bend me over the table."
I reached for her hand, my
fingertips stroking her skin. I drank in the shiver that echoed
through her. "I don't care if we're in a restaurant or standing on
the Golden Gate Bridge. You're gorgeous, and you're mine. If these
past two weeks taught me anything, it's that I can't take my eyes
off you. And for the record, I’m using every ounce of self control
to hold back my desire to sweep everything off the
table-"
Her eyes bulged knowingly.
“ I guess I don’t need to finish the
thought,” I grinned.
“ Logan!” she hissed, cheeks
darkening.
God, I loved her.
How was this possible? How could she make it all go
away, just by existing? One smile from her and something in me
believed that everything would be alright.
She twirled a blonde strand lazily
around her finger. Not in the ditzy, coy way I was used to from
other women, eyes vacant as they tried futilely to convince me that
our connection was more than it was. Melissa's eyes were pensive,
taking it all in like she was genuinely in awe of every moment. She
didn't take a single thing for granted.
She drummed her fingertips on the white linen
tablecloth, eyes shooting to the crystal chandelier overhead. "The
lighting, the lack of prices on the menu, the paintings on the
wall-" Her evaluation came to a halt as she cleared her throat,
snatching her hands into her lap.
"Is something wrong?" I asked quickly, ready to move
heaven and earth if that would make her happy. Stroll right out the
door if she was dissatisfied with the cafe. The back door, because
even with our table nestled away from prying eyes, I knew the
photographers were out front, dying for a shot of us together.
Photographic evidence that I was the billionaire playboy,
abandoning my child in favor of my latest conquest.
"No," she answered, gaze settling on me. "It's just
when you said 'cafe' I guess I pictured something a little less
fancy. Which was dumb because you're--well, you know what you
are."
I cleared my face of all emotion. I knew what she was
getting at, but I couldn't resist playing with her a little. "And
what, pray tell, am I?"
Her nostrils flared. "Rich. Filthy rich."
The only word that mattered was filthy. My body could
care less that we were out in public, cock hardened to rock with
memories of her stretched out on my desk, her silken wetness
wrapped around me as I took her.
"You think you're slick," she said, twisting her
golden strands until they spilled over one shoulder.
Another word that had me gripping the arm of my
chair, struggling to keep my composure.
Slick.
My thoughts must have been clear as
day because she gave me a demure smile that clutched her hot little
mouth. "I know exactly what you're doing. It's the same
thing I'm doing,
talking about this cafe, while you're screwing me with your
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