His hand moved to my leg as he talked, his thumb tracing the seam of my pants along my inner thigh. I bit down on my lip, trying and failing to ignore the flutter he produced inside me.
He shifted deeper into the chair, pulling my side closer to his chest. “Trent didn’t know he had another son until I gave him that envelope five days ago. I have no idea if he shared the news with your family.”
Collin would’ve told me if he knew. “Why did you tell him you’re his son? He has no loyalties to his family. No qualms about sending Collin to prison.”
The natural arch of his right eyebrow twitched. “I presented myself as the bastard son who feels entitled to his father’s wealth and power. It was a motivation for my blackmail, one he relates to and therefore doesn’t question.”
When our gazes met, I saw the real reason he was here. The deep, angry pain beneath the shadowy lines of his brow. The need for revenge possessed him, controlled his life, and drove him to succeed.
If Trent sent Collin to prison or had him killed, how far would I go to get even? Just thinking about it made me see Logan’s anger in a new light. The sense of loss I’d felt over the past five days paled in comparison.
He had no one through his childhood hardship. I had Collin through my five-day scorn.
But I didn’t have Collin in the way Logan was looking at me now.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my jaw. “I’ll never grow tired of looking at you.”
My eyes threatened to close, so I locked my concentration on the tension in his thighs under mine, the steady breaths pushing past his lips, and the swallow crawling beneath his tie. When I glanced up, the desolation and longing in his eyes reflected my deepest ache.
An ache that he’d exploited to get what he wanted. A bitter thought whispered through my head. I could seduce him, use him for my own pleasure, and toss him away. Right now, I was the one with the power to hurt.
But I didn’t want to add to the heartache in those molten-gold eyes. I’d rather challenge him. Tease him just enough then stand back and watch him burn. And maybe, just maybe, his burning need for me would turn into the fight he promised.
I shifted my body to straddle his lap. His mouth opened immediately, reaching to take mine. I gripped his face, held my parted lips an inch from his, and gloried in the push and shove of our clashing breaths. His lips were so close they heated mine, but our mouths didn’t touch.
The longer I held that tenuous inch between us, the harder our breaths pumped, neither of us relinquishing eye contact. His fingers dug into my hips, my muscles wincing from the punishment. But another sensation rolled through my body, an intoxicating heat, chasing away the cold emptiness that lived inside me.
He pushed his face against the hold of my hands, trying to close that final inch. I leaned back when he shoved forward, a back and forth battle of open mouths and wet exhales, his desperation to kiss me a heady aphrodisiac. His body surrounded me with an invigorating warmth of energy, his chest so fucking hard I wanted to strip his suit and tie and worship the rough-hewn sculpture of his muscles.
But I waited, made him wait, our breaths shallow and noisy as I drew it out, teasing him mercilessly. His cock stiffened against my inner thigh, the clutch of his hands on my hips unbearable. As he tried to lick my lips, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions, and at the forefront was wild, feral need.
When his pelvis bucked beneath me, rocking me closer, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold him off. I angled my head, smiled and, when his gorgeous eyes flashed, relaxed my grip on his face.
He fell on me, his mouth hot and wet as it devoured mine, his tongue whipping past my teeth with an urgency that had my fingers twisting in his hair, yanking him away, and pulling him closer.
Nothing about our attraction was reserved or tame. He was fire, and I was the fuel. We were angry and wanton, passionate and aching. Explosive.
And cruel.
I dropped my hands to his chest and pushed, breaking the kiss and gasping for air. “I don’t trust you.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes fiery flames of determination. He nodded once. Then he was on me, his tongue thrusting violently past my lips, desperately fighting for me, for
us
. He dragged my hips tight against his, the steel length of his arousal grinding along my piercing. Electric sparks shot through my clit, coaxing my inner walls to clench hungrily.
This
was the man from the nightclub, the one who stole my breath with a mysterious glare, who set my insides on fire with a touch, and who fucked with his mouth and took what he wanted.
I wanted to bite him, slap him, punch him again. More than that, I wanted to make him mine. I wanted his anger, his ferocity, his pain. To claim every part of him, fuse it with all of me, and make us a singular whole.
I pulled back to look at him, but before I could catch my breath, he swooped in and stole it again with his hands on my jaw and his mouth sealed to mine. Mirroring his hold, I cupped his face, my thighs squeezing his waist. He kissed me tirelessly, tongues sparring, lips mashed together, deep-reaching and wickedly raw.
My chest heaved against his, our hearts pounding with the rush of our breaths. A curling pressure swelled between my legs, and I jerked my hips, savoring the grind of his cock, wanting more. God, I wanted him.
As his hands slid from my jaw to my neck, his mouth relaxed and a tender kiss flowed from the urgency. He took his time, his lips softening against mine, his tongue exploring with gentle licks. It was heated and thrumming with desire but also deeper, more expressive. Far more intense than any kiss that had come before it.
The path of his fingers dipped along the lines of my throat, across my collarbones, and around the curves of my breasts over the short-sleeve sweater. I slid my hips forward, thrusting my chest against his hand, my lips burning from the heat of his mouth.
I was breathless when he stopped kissing me. He leaned back, shoulders relaxed despite the heave of his chest. His hands slid to my waist, his thighs separating beneath my ass, his hard cock pressing against the throb between my legs.
His mouth was open to accommodate his heavy breaths, his lips wet and puffy, his hair tousled from my hands. I gripped the knot of his tie and re-centered it, sliding my fingers over the softly-shaven skin of his jaw. My God, he was stunning when aroused.
His half-lidded eyes darted between mine. “What are you doing to me?”
This was it. He was most definitely burning. I needed to dig up some damned willpower and step back.
Curling my nails into my palms, I pulled from his grip and slipped from his lap. His eyes narrowed as I backed up toward the windows.
He rose, prowling after me, his face reddening, his broad chest and shoulders expanding with tension. His glare pushed against me, eyes of golden-green set in an expression that seemed to prefer scowling and growling over smiling. Which only added to his intimidating disposition as he stalked closer. A foot away. “What are you doing
with
me? That kiss?” He clenched his fists. “What’s going on between you and Collin?”
My back hit the glass as he covered my body with his. He grabbed my hair, arching my neck back. His other hand cupped my breast as he licked my exposed throat, sucking, kissing his way to my jaw, and groaning into my mouth. “I hate that you belong to another man. My
brother.
” He kissed me again, hard and angry, and pulled back. “I fucking hate it. So answer my goddamned question.”
I whimpered, my heart hammering to tell him. Fuck! I’d known him less than a week. The bastard fucked me over. I couldn’t do the same to Collin by exposing his secret.
Besides, Logan needed to earn the answer. I placed my hands on the lapels of his jacket and shoved. He stumbled back then flew forward, attacking my mouth again. Just as quickly, he tore his lips away, his eyes wide and red with so much conflict it killed me.
Don’t back down. Don’t give in.
I wasn’t sure what he saw on my face, but he curled his lip, pulled back his arm, and slammed his fist against the glass beside my head. I jumped, restrained by the forearm across my chest, as the window wall shuddered and held.
He dropped his forehead against mine, the arm on my chest holding me in place. His other hand slid angrily over the glass, up and down, in rhythm with his short breaths.
A long moment of deadlock passed, everything left unsaid agitating between us. He seemed to be gathering his self-control. As his breathing shifted, he removed his hand from the glass and sifted it through my hair, his fingers splayed to let the strands fall between.
I raised my arm and slid my palm over his, untangling it from my hair. He let his brow sink heavier against mine, his eyes on our hands, on the sunlight that glowed around the connection. The fiery sprays of light played along our fingers as we laced them together, illuminating the beauty in the simple touch. I watched it in wonderment, filling my chest with that glow, my mouth slowly reaching for his.
He stepped back, the warmth of his touch replaced with the several feet of space he put between us. The look on his face was both heartbreaking and passionately fierce. “You can’t tell Collin about my mother.”
Reality crashed over me, the glow in my body zapped by a sudden chill as everything he’d shown me rushed to the surface.
He swiped a hand over his face, his eyes more resolute than ever. “I don’t know what Collin’s role is, but if he knows why I’m here…” He shoved his hands through his hair and stared at the ceiling. “He can’t know I want revenge. If he tells Trent—”
“Collin won’t tell.” I fisted my hands at my sides. “He’s not involved in this. I’ve kept him in the dark on everything.”
“What is
everything
?” He leveled me with a suspicious gaze.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat on the armrest of the leather chair. “Ambiguous tasks, most of which are shady, but on the surface seem completely harmless.” With a sigh, I explained the nature of the board’s demands over the years, like the delivery of the Timex watch, managing the direction of Collin’s show, changing numbers on financial statements due to
accounting mistakes
, all of it legal but shady nonetheless.
What Logan had showed me clicked all my suspicions into place. My distrust in them was the reason I wanted to replace them when I became CEO. But what left me stunned and ice cold was the degree of their corruption. My God, I would’ve never believed it without his evidence.
He moved to the messenger bag on the floor beside my feet and crouched to return the documents inside. “Does Collin know you watch the races?”
“Yes.” Only he and Seth knew.
“Does he know
how
you receive the schematics to attend?” His eyes were on his bag, his body stock-still. “Does he know Hal Pinkerton is feeding you that dangerous information?”
Dangerous because it was underground with illegal betting and extreme racing that often ended in injury or death. Dangerous if the wrong people discovered who leaked it to the authorities. I glared at his bowed head. “Yes.”
He looked up. “Trent knows, too, which means Collin might be sharing with dear old dad.”
My protective instincts bristled, hating his suspicion. Seth could’ve been the leak, but if I told him that, I’d have to explain who Seth was. “But
you
found that server.”
“I’m looking for suspicious activity, for proof of your involvement. Does Trent have a reason to mistrust you on his own? Without someone cluing him in?”
“I don’t know.” Goosebumps rose along my arms, my voice numb. “Maybe he’s always tracked me.” Maybe Trent didn’t believe I was as naïve as he always claimed.
Logan stood, strapping the bag across his chest. “When you left Trent’s office, I followed you. Collin saw me across the street, and I swear he recognized me. I think he and Trent share more than you think. Which means Collin is hiding shit from you.”
Bullshit. I wanted to launch at him with my claws out, but I kept my ass on the armrest and my voice calm. “Trent called Collin as soon as I left his office. And he sent a photo of you when you went racing after me. He didn’t want us fighting in the streets of Chicago, making a spectacle of ourselves.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Fine. Tell me about the threat Trent is holding over him.”
Jesus, he was on a fucking witch-hunt. I gritted my teeth. “It’s purchased evidence. Trent has something that puts Collin at the scene of a murder eight years ago. He’s innocent.”
“And you know this how? Based on faith in your husband?”
“Yes.” I smiled, baring my teeth, but inside, I was picking Collin’s innocence apart.
Collin told me the evidence was purchased, and I never questioned him, never doubted him for a second. My stomach twisted.
No, I refused to question his loyalties. I’d known him my entire life. My trust in him was everything. But the voice in my head reminded me that
I
hadn’t been completely honest with him.
“Know what I think?” He stepped into my space, staring me down with an intensity that didn’t match the gentleness in his tone. “I think he’s fucking around on you, and that’s why you cheated. How can you have faith in someone like that?”
I drew a calming breath and said quietly, “The relationship I have with my husband is none of your fucking business.”
“I don’t trust him.”
The rigid tension in his face and the resolve hardening his eyes boiled my blood. “He’s my best friend, the only person whose ever given a shit about me!”
He breathed in and out slowly as if working to maintain his composure. “I’m here to determine who’s involved and who’s not.”
“Then what?” But I knew. I knew what he planned to do. My muscles tensed, and my head spun through the implications. “We need to go to the police. You have all the evidence they need to start an investigation. Let the authorities root out all the connections.”
He pivoted away, pacing through the large office, his hand raking and tugging through his hair. “We can’t. The evidence”—he gripped the bag hanging at his hip and shook it—“all of it will lead to
me
.” He spun to face me, his eyes challenging. “I avenged those murders.”