Logan (12 page)

“Christ, you feel good.”

“Logan.” His name came out as a plea.

“Hold on to my shoulders.”

She did, and he drove in hard, one powerful thrust after another, as she dug her nails into him.

“Harder, Logan. Fuck me harder.”

“Oh, darlin’.”

He lifted her off his aching shaft and turned her to face the sink, nudging her legs out wider. The shapely beauty of her creamy ass nearly took him over the edge. He dropped to his knees, had to taste her sweet honey before he entered her again. He spread her cheeks with his hands and thrust his tongue into her slick folds.

“Oh God. Logan.”

He licked her swollen sex until her breathing quickened and he could tell she was on the verge of release. In one swift move, he rose to his full height and drove his hard cock into her. Holding her shoulders for balance, he pumped and ground, taking her roughly, unable to hold back another second. They both wanted it. Hell, they both needed it. She was every bit as dirty as he was, only her naughtiness was cocooned in love, and he’d make damn sure that he loved the hell out of her—forever if she’d let him.

“Logan,” she cried out, clawing at the countertop.

He thrust as her inner muscles contracted. Heat gathered low in his gut, mounting, thickening, taunting. Another deep thrust pulled him under, and he grunted through his own intense release.

When the last shudder of pleasure rippled through him, he gathered her in his arms and held her close. She gazed into his eyes with the look of trust he’d seen late last night and again this morning. Every time their eyes connected, his heart turned over in his chest. Logan knew this was real. As real as anything he’d ever known. As real as taking down the enemy on his SEAL missions. As real as killing his father’s murderer. Adrenaline coursed through him, as it had during all those other times, along with something deeper, something that filled the holes those other things had left behind. Overtaking the shadows of his past and giving him hope for the future.

He helped Stella with her jeans, then righted his own, before pressing a long kiss to her forehead and taking her beautiful face in his hands. Logan was done struggling to keep his feelings in check. He couldn’t resist—didn’t want to deny—telling her how he felt.

“I love you, Stella. And no matter what the cost, I’ll keep you safe.”

She closed her eyes for a beat, and the air between them shifted, grew colder. Her jaw tightened. Her grip on his arm eased, and she looked away.

“Don’t love me, Logan. I can’t stand to lose you, too.”

“Stell—”

She was out the door before he could say another word.

THEY DROVE BACK to the cabin in silence. Stella was lost in a private, torturous battle. She thought she could allow herself to love Logan. She felt everything he felt. When he was making love to her, claiming her with all his might and passion, she wanted to tell him she loved him, too. There was no denying their powerful connection. But she couldn’t deny that tomorrow would leave her only twenty-four hours before Kutcher was out of jail again, and she refused to let Logan love her when she might not be around to love.

She felt Logan’s eyes on her as she stared out the window into the darkness. She couldn’t muster the courage to look at him. He read her better than anyone had ever read her in her life. He knew when she needed to be held, when to let her cry, when to love her hard. She knew he loved her because she felt it in every touch, every kiss, saw it in every look. With Logan she could be herself without any masks or costumes, without any false bravado. With Logan she felt whole, but that wasn’t fair to him.

When he parked at the cabin, she rushed out her door so he couldn’t open it for her. She knew she’d have to look into his eyes, and she couldn’t bear to see the sadness that had gathered there when he’d climbed into the truck at the restaurant. If she did, she’d fall into their love and forget who she was again, and that was too dangerous. Not the person she used to be, the one Logan was quickly unveiling, but the person she’d been for the past few months. The ruined girl. Kutcher’s prey.

He didn’t reach for her as he strode up the steps. The rounding of his shoulders told of his sorrow. How did she have the power to crush such a strong man? More importantly, how would she survive another day when her own heart was shattering inside her chest? Maybe she’d get lucky and die of a broken heart. That was preferable to dying at the hands of Kutcher.

Logan tossed his keys on the counter and sank into a chair without turning on the lights.

Good.

Darkness was a mask.

She needed a full-on costume to get through tonight.

He ran both hands through his hair and tipped his head back with a sigh.

Stella didn’t know what to do, where to sit, where to stand. Her legs felt like lead, and she felt broken.

“I know I’m not being fair to you.” She hadn’t planned the words, but they came as if she had, with an air of truth. When Logan didn’t open his eyes or look in her direction, she continued. “You’ve turned your life inside out for me, Logan, and you’ve been so good to me.”
Too good to me
.

He crossed his arms, knees spread wide, and dropped his chin to his chest, setting a piercing stare on the coffee table.

She wanted him to turn those eyes on her. How could she miss what wasn’t hers? She was the one pushing him away, and she wanted desperately to see him smile again, to see the fire in his eyes that had been there for the past two days.

Instead, she was answered with silence and a clenched jaw.

She swallowed the urge to hide beneath the blankets in the other bedroom and hunker down for a long, cold winter like a bear in the woods.

“I dropped my guard, Logan.” Her voice sounded fragile. An hour ago it would have drawn him to his feet and he’d have taken her in his arms and told her that everything would be okay. But he’d bared his soul and she’d turned her back on him. The realization made her weak. She sank onto the couch on the opposite side of the room.

“I allowed myself to get too close to you, but that isn’t fair, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” Stella fought the urge to push aside what could happen and apologize to Logan. To give herself up to him completely. To lie beneath him and let him love her heart back into one piece. To curl up in his arms, borrow his strength, believe his words, and allow herself to be loved the way she used to hope to be loved—the way she’d allowed herself to dream about being loved by Logan. The picket-fence type of love.

“What was that in the restaurant, Stella? Were you just fucking another guy? Because you told me that wasn’t who you were.” His voice was dead calm, but his words cut like a knife.

“No. I swear, Logan. I felt everything you felt.”

Logan fell into silence again, his jaw working over her words.

“Don’t you see? I let myself pretend. I got carried away with my feelings for you and the safety I’ve been feeling, and I let myself hope. Hope is a dangerous thing. I allowed myself to forget who I was, what my life was really like. There were times today when I felt normal.”

She scoffed at her stupidity. “
Normal
. Like I could live in that friendly little town and not fear for my life. Like I could be friends with people like Willow and Bridgette and maybe one day have a family of my own.”

She pressed her fist to the pain in her chest, which was burning hotter with every admission.

“I can’t do those things, Logan. Kutcher will get out of jail and he’ll track me down. And this time he’ll probably kill me.” Trembling began in her limbs. She choked on her admission. “He…He stabbed me, Logan. Twice. He’s not going to quit. He’s going to hunt me down until I’m out of his way, and you of all people don’t deserve to live like this. You’re a good, honest, kind, loving man. You deserve a woman whose life isn’t fucked up beyond repair. A woman who knows that in two days she’ll still be alive and able to live a normal life.”

He rose to his feet. When he tilted his chin in her direction, his features turned to stone. “You don’t need to have
hope
, Stella. Hope’s for people who can’t do a damn thing to make their life better. All you need is to have faith in me.” He took a step toward his bedroom, then stopped and spoke with his back to her.

“I’m having dinner with my family tomorrow night. You’re coming with me. It’s not a request or an option. It’s what you’re doing so I can keep you safe. You don’t have to let me love you. You don’t even have to like me. But I’m seeing this through. I’m keeping you safe. Once we know Kutcher’s remaining behind bars, you’ll get your life back. Whatever life you choose.”

He disappeared into his bedroom. Dinner with his family? He was having dinner with his family and she was supposed to go with him? What about Kutcher? What if Kanets didn’t talk? What if Kutcher hired someone to hurt her instead of doing it himself? No, she couldn’t even let herself think about that now. It was one thing to facilitate drug sales while he was in jail, but another to hire someone to kill her.

She really was losing her mind.

And now she’d lost Logan, too.

I SHOULDN’T HAVE touched her.

I shouldn’t have made love to her in the bathroom.

Logan had berated himself all night after checking in with Marco and the guys down at the police station and learning that Kanets had caved. That’s what Logan had counted on. Now it was up to the system to do the right thing, keep Kutcher behind bars while they investigate and eventually find him guilty and extend his sentence. As much as Logan wanted to blow through the doors of the station and demand that they finish what he started, he knew better. It was time to wait it out and keep Stella safe. They had to be in the city tonight for dinner with his family, but he didn’t want Stella there any longer than necessary. He debated skipping dinner, but after his father died, he’d promised himself he’d never blow off a night with his mother for anything. Logan always kept his promises.

After a shitty night, he and Stella had managed to be cordial this morning, navigating the tension that stilted their small talk over breakfast. He loved her so damn much he ached all over. Being in the same room with her was torture. She looked as distraught as he felt, and he’d had to escape to the porch just to have enough oxygen to breathe. He returned phone calls to distract himself from the trouble between them, and he went over his notes on Kutcher again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Logan never missed things.

But now, hours later, after piddling around in the yard to kill time and chopping more wood than he could ever need, he missed the hell out of Stella. He missed her laugh, the sound of her voice, the feel of her fingers in his.

Shadows crept over his back as the afternoon sun dipped below the tree line. Logan brought the ax down hard, splitting the slab of wood right down the center with a loud
crack
. His body glistened with the effort. He set up another log and stood back, planting his legs into the earth and swinging the ax for the hundredth time that afternoon. It had yet to touch the frustration coiled in every one of his muscles.

He glanced at the cabin and considered apologizing to Stella for taking things too far last night in the restaurant, but hadn’t he given her a chance to back out? He hadn’t been too full of lust to forget that, but he had obviously been too full of love to misconstrue what last night meant to her, despite what she’d claimed. He’d been making love; she’d been fucking.

He swung the ax again, and the sound of splitting wood echoed in the forest, mirroring the shattering of his heart. He didn’t believe she’d been just fucking. She’d said she felt everything he’d felt, and he wanted to believe that. But why would she tear them apart? Why was she trying to protect him? He didn’t need protecting. He needed her.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his fatigues and set his boots solidly on the ground again, unable to shake the feeling that none of this shit felt right. It hadn’t felt like she was just fucking him last night, no matter what words they’d used, where, or how they’d come together. He wasn’t so messed up that he could have misread her, was he?

He split another log, then rested the ax on his shoulder and wiped his brow with his forearm. None of it mattered. Not why she didn’t love him or why he loved her. All that mattered was keeping her safe. It had to be a mission now, nothing more. And it probably should have been one all along.

He’d fucked up. That was the bottom line. He knew better than to get involved with someone he was protecting, and before Stella he’d been damn good at staying on the right side of that line.

His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and smiled at his brother’s name on the screen. He needed the distraction.

“Hey, Coop. How’s it going?”

“Just wrapped a photo session with none other than Siena Remington—you know that hotter-than-fuck model?” Logan’s brothers Jackson and Cooper ran one of the most prestigious photography businesses around. They were always shooting famous models and actors.

“The Captain Morgan girl?”

“Yeah, she’s the one. Came with her firefighter fiancé. He was cool, though. I actually pulled him into the shoot. It was hot.”

“Cool. You going to Mom’s for dinner?”

“’Course. That’s why I’m calling. Can you cover cooking tonight? I can’t get over there early enough.”

“Sure. I’m at my cabin, but I’ll be there.”

Stella came out the front door wearing a pair of jeans and a tight tank top. Their eyes caught—and held—blazing a familiar path between them. Logan didn’t drop his gaze. The longer they remained connected, the harder it was to break away—and the deeper her denial cut.

He tore his eyes away, mumbling a curse.

“Did you just curse at me?” Cooper asked.

“No. Just nicked my finger. I’ll be there.”

“Cool. Thanks, man,” Cooper said. “I owe you one.”

Logan shoved his phone in his pocket and paced, willing himself not to look at Stella. No wonder he’d kept his heart on ice for so long. This sucked.

He heard the sound of dry leaves crackling beneath her feet but didn’t turn to greet her. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. The ball was in her court, and it was going to stay there until she made up her mind whether she wanted him or not. He couldn’t play the half-in, half-out game any longer. Logan wanted a committed relationship or nothing.

“I want to have faith in you, but I’m so scared.” Her voice slid over his skin and melted the ice he needed around his heart in order to remain detached. She placed a delicate hand on his arm and walked in front of him, looking up through impossibly long lashes. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She’d been crying.

His heart broke a little more.

“Wanting is a start.” He was putty in her hands. He wanted to be hers.

“I’m sorry. It’s not easy for me. Yesterday…when we—”

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I made you feel dirty and cheap, and it was a prick move. I was satisfying my own greediness for you. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair to try to figure out why she had the power to melt his soul to liquid. “I’m sorry.”

“You gave me a choice, Logan.” Her tone was cold and exact.

“And you chose to
fuck
me. I get it, Stella.” He swung the ax blade into the tree trunk he was using as a mount and headed for the cabin.

“Yes, Logan,” she called after him. “I
chose
to fuck you.”

Her words shouldn’t sting. He was a man, a soldier. He shouldn’t care if she just fucked him. He’d fucked plenty of women without a second of remorse. But this was Stella, and he did care. He cared a whole fucking hell of a lot.

She fell into stride beside him. “Remember when I said I liked being dirty with you, but not with just any guy? Well, last night I wanted you to
fuck
me, because when you’re inside me, it doesn’t matter how dirty the words are, or how rough we are with each other. Everything we do feels different. It feels like…”

He stopped walking but didn’t meet her gaze, afraid she’d see the hope in his eyes. Goddamn hope.

“I wasn’t just fucking you, Logan. I was…”

He lifted his gaze at the softening of her tone just in time to see her crinkle her nose and look away, as if she were straining to find the right words.

“Love-fucking you,” she spat.

“Love-fucking?” His shoulders lifted with a silent laugh.

She swatted his arm. “Yes. Love-fucking.”

“What the hell is love-fucking? I think you just coined a new phrase.”

“Love-fucking. You know. When you’re falling for someone but you still want them to fuck you hard.
Love-fucking
.”

She crossed her arms, then nervously flung them straight again.

“So you’re falling for me, but you don’t want me to love you?” He had no idea what she was trying to say or how to respond.

“You can’t love me, Logan. I’m just telling you that I wasn’t fucking you. I was—”

He held up a hand, not wanting to hear it again. He’d felt the flicker of hope when she’d begun explaining, and now he was done. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw to push his hopes away and regain perspective. He’d like to take her in his arms and kiss her until she realized that the heat that sparked every second they were together, and the lust that practically oozed from their skin when they kissed, was real. But he’d no sooner do that than allow himself to hope. He was done with hope. Hope was for losers, just like he’d told her. It was for weak people who couldn’t change a damn thing and looked for some magical element to shift things into place.

This love stuff hurt like hell, and if he had to hope for her love, there was no way he was going to put himself through that sort of torture.

Then why did every ounce of him
hope
she was telling him the truth?