Blow (23 page)

“Okay, I get it. But you have to think of yourself. I want to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know what he has planned. You need to sit down with O’Shea and make him tell you what’s in his head.” I had to be straight. There was no dancing around it. He didn’t have time to fuck around.

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“You have to tell me what he tells you.”

She looked hesitant.

“That’s the only way I can help you.”

“Logan, I just don’t know. I’m risking a lot by being here, but something inside me tells me I’m safer here than anywhere else. What I don’t get, though, is . . . why do you want to help me? Aren’t we supposed to be on opposite sides?”

I shook my head. “No, we’re not on opposite sides. We’re on the same side. I promise.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

I brushed some hair from her face. I knew I shouldn’t be touching her but I had to. “Because all I want is to keep you and that precious little girl sleeping in the other room safe.”

She leaned into my touch and I felt it everywhere in my body. “I don’t understand. Why? Why would you help us?”

There was no way I couldn’t be honest. Not when she was this close to me. Not when her voice was pleading with me to tell her. “Because, Elle, you remind me of someone I should have helped but didn’t. Someone I failed.”

Our eyes locked. I swear her lips parted. I know I felt my own mouth open and I couldn’t stop my tongue from sneaking out and licking my bottom lip. In my mind, I was imagining how much better she’d feel about all of this if I could drive my cock deep inside her. What a fucked-up thought. I shook it away.

Finally, I cleared my throat. “I want you to stay here tonight. And then tomorrow, when O’Shea gets back, you’ll talk to him. I can’t help you if I don’t know what he’s planning to do. But Elle, you can’t tell him you’re talking to me. Not yet.”

She nodded in silent agreement as if she didn’t want him to know either.

Interesting.

“You take the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here.”

She nodded again. “Do you mind if I take a shower? It’s been a long day.”

“No, go ahead.”

Oh fuck, the things I was already picturing.

Elle stood up and I watched her as she grabbed her bags and went back into the bedroom. She paused at the door. “Thanks, Logan. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I said.

If she knew what I was thinking, she wouldn’t.

She disappeared into the darkness and I refocused. My dirty mind aside, I couldn’t help but think to myself,
Please trust me
.

Trust in what I told you.

Trust me when I tell you how dangerous this is.

Because if you don’t—we’ll both be dead.

ELLE

N
ausea twisted my gut.

If what Logan had told me was true, and Michael was in over his head, he wasn’t wrong—we were in trouble.

And something told me there were no lies in Logan’s words.

Michael had told me just enough, hinting at the danger but making it sound like everything would be okay. Was he being overly optimistic or was Logan being paranoid?

I just had no idea.

Stepping inside the large space, I left the door open a crack from the bathroom to the bedroom in case Clementine woke up. I dimmed the bathroom lights and looked around. Marble covered almost every surface and the heat lamps in the ceiling were supposed to warm me, but the chill I was feeling wasn’t one that could be cured by supplied heat.

My clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds as I stripped out of them and let them fall to the floor. When I turned on the shower faucet, the water sprayed from jets in every direction. I stood outside the shower and decided to allow my skin the luxury of being warmed by the steam as the water got hotter.

When I felt ready, I stepped inside. A bar of soap sat in a small alcove built into the shower along with bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. The soap and shampoo had been used, but not the other two. I cracked open the body wash and the scent of lavender filled the large space.

The liquid seemed to caress my body as I smoothed it on, almost as if it might help wash away the danger that lay ahead. The water beat down on me from all directions and I enfolded myself in it. In this sanctuary, I could let myself be afraid. I could cry because I was scared. I didn’t have to be strong.

The emotions I was holding in gave away, as did my wall of strength. Like a rag doll, I limply slid down the wall of the shower. After a few moments, I cradled my head in my hands and let the tears flow. I cried for as long as I could and when I knew I had no tears left, I resolved to cry no more. It was time to be strong, if not for me, then for that innocent little girl sleeping soundly in the next room.

Fortitude was a virtue I knew well and, as I forced myself to rise to my feet, I reminded myself of that. Finding the shampoo, I scrubbed and rinsed my head. When I looked at my fingers, they were wrinkled, and I wondered just how long I’d been in the shower. Running my hands through my silky smooth strands, I scrubbed some more and then rinsed again, finally adding the conditioner and rinsing one last time.

My mind felt freer by the time I turned the shower off. Logan assured me we’d be safe, and for a reason I didn’t want to examine too closely, I believed him. Logan—what was it about him? What were these feelings that were whooshing through my belly just thinking about him? Was I genuinely attracted to him, or was my reaction simply a by-product of the fear I was feeling? The answer could easily have been yes to both questions.

Steam filled the air in the room. Something came over me in the haze—lustful visions that I couldn’t control. When I stepped out of the shower, I tried to block the image I had in my head of Logan’s parted lips—soft, sensual. As soon as the cooler air hit me, my nipples peaked. I ignored the desire that was blooming within me and reached for the fluffy white towels that were just beside the counter.

First, I wrapped my head in one and then my body. The terry cloth absorbed the water instantly but I still rubbed one corner over my skin to dry it thoroughly. The arousal I had been feeling blossomed beneath the surface of each place I rubbed and I made sure to leave no place untouched.

The air was still hazy and the mirror was coated in steam. That was fine; I didn’t need to see myself. I knew the state of affairs. My skin was pink from the heat, my body was clean, and my mind was on the man who would be sleeping in the next room tonight.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I bent forward and gripped the counter. I had to think clearly. I couldn’t allow anything or anyone to cloud my judgment.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, rumbly, and my insides came even more alive at the sound.

Surprised, I stood straight and turned around. My heart leapt into my throat when I saw him occupying the doorway. In the midst of all this chaos, he was a welcome breath of fresh air.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry if I’m taking too long. I’ll hurry.”

He leaned against the doorframe and his long, lean body was all I could see. “No, that’s not why I’m here. I knocked lightly but you didn’t hear me.”

I drank him in from head to toe, not sure how to stop what was coming over me. “It’s okay. What did you need?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, but I saw you were out of the shower and thought you might freak out if you didn’t see Clementine in the bed.”

I stepped forward, freaking out more than a bit.

Logan spoke, though, before I could express my concern. “Nothing to worry about. I wanted to let you know,” he jerked his head toward the bedroom, “I had housekeeping set up a crib and I moved Clementine into it. I hope you don’t mind.”

My vision became blurry from all the steam, or maybe it was the gratitude I felt from his constant vigilance over Clementine and me. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

As my body reacted to his presence, warmth overtook me, and my desire heightened with each passing second that his eyes were on me. I didn’t try to hide it. I didn’t want to. “I was just thinking about you, actually.”

He grinned at me, and something that seemed like shyness glimmered in his expression. “About me, in what way?”

Pure male was all I heard in his words.

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t have to.

After studying him, I surmised it was hesitation I saw, not shyness. While his face appeared to remain reserved, his body told a different story.

I traced the lines of it. He wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and flat stomach. His black cargo pants hugged his lean waist, and the bulge in those pants let me know how much he wanted me. His thighs may have been lost beneath the fabric, but I had to bet they were equally as exquisite.

When my gaze returned to his, he slid his focus painfully slowly down my body.

It was as if I could feel the heat of those hazel eyes with each inch they traveled downward, and I wanted to feel more of it. The longer they lingered, the more my body reacted. When his eyes returned to mine, I felt this strange pull that I couldn’t explain if I had to, but all I knew was that I had to have him.

Recognizing I might never get the chance again, I acted without another thought.

I wasn’t going to hold back.

I was prepared to go all the way.

Focused on just that, I took the towel from my hair and shook my head so that wet strands of ginger locks covered my shoulders. Then I tugged on the fabric that wrapped my torso and let it fall to the ground.

Logan drew in a ragged breath and slowly stepped over the threshold and into the bathroom.

I waited, breathing hard, heart pounding, as he carefully closed the door and turned the fan on. A whirring sound encompassed the space at the same time it drew the humidity from the room.

His long strides had him in front of me in a matter of seconds.

In a state of delirium, my hands grabbed for his waistband and I wildly pulled the snap open. I couldn’t stop myself even if I tried. I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to see every square inch of his body and then I wanted to feel it against mine.

“Elle, this isn’t a good—”

I put my finger on his lush lips. “Shhh . . . no talking. Not now. We’ve done enough talking.”

Uncertain perhaps, he met my eyes questioningly.

Even though I was completely naked, I was unabashed.

Certain.

I wanted him.

He wanted me.

I’d never felt this kind of want before and I needed to see it through.

I prayed he wouldn’t say another word. I didn’t want anything to jar me from the euphoric state I had somehow entered.

This close to him, I could see the exact shape of the scar beneath his eye. I could also see the brown flecks in his green eyes, so many they transformed the color to hazel. They glistened in the dim light and mesmerized me.

In this moment, we weren’t on opposite sides, we weren’t strangers, and we weren’t denying the oddly intense attraction that had been there from the start. We were just two consenting adults who wanted to fuck.

Logan seemed to feel the same. He dropped his gaze and didn’t speak a word as he molded himself to me. His touches were like sparks of electricity that tingled all of my nerve endings. I felt them everywhere.

One hand went to my back and the other curled behind my neck as he pulled me to him. Still contending with the magical feel of his hands, the contact made by his mouth was unexpected. It was on mine so fast that I started to sway in a dizzying combination of lust and want. The soft, tender feel of his lips was delicious. Our mouths moved in tandem and our tongues met as we devoured each other with the hunger we both felt.

I tried to ignore the fact that I’d never felt this way.

I needed to get out of my own head.

And I did. I let thoughts of him sweep me away. Strange thoughts. Like how I wanted to taste him from his lips to his feet, how I wanted to drag my tongue down his body and lick every bit of him.

My fingers fumbled with his zipper and I faltered when his hands shot right between my thighs.

Raging doses of hormones were in the air. Bucking wildly, his hips pressed against mine, and his cock felt like steel against my lower belly. We’d both been overtaken with the need to fuck, and he urged me back until my ass was flush against the countertop.

“Let me take care of you.” His voice was rough like gravel.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I didn’t want any talking.

Thank God, there were not more words. The only thing that followed was touching. By the time I could think again, his fingertips were already stroking my pussy and it felt way too good to think about stopping.

With skill, he rubbed small circles around my opening, getting closer with each one. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned.

No talking during sex was always my rule. Normally, I would have dictated the terms up front and left by now due to their violation. Yet instead of backing away, I found myself moaning, what, I’m not even sure. Before I could figure out what I was saying, he pushed a finger inside me. He wasn’t in a hurry as he plunged deeper and drew it back up all way to my clit. He repeated this over and over, and I responded to every delicious movement he made.