Page 69 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Sorry,” I whisper, full of shame. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s all right, kitty,” Logan says, staying back.

“It’s just that I, uh...” I keep my head low, hoping his eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness enough to see the blood in my cheeks. “I didn’t expect that we’d?—”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

I turn, putting my feet on the floor, sitting forward to catch my breath. My stomach twists with failure, with regret. Because yes! Slow down is exactly what men like to hear. A real turn-on, right? That’s what Knox and Jonah always write their songs about, isn’t it? Taking it slow?

Down down baby,but only if you’re not too chicken!

“Katrina,” Logan says, his weight shifting until he’s sitting beside me. “You saved yourself for him, didn’t you?”

I pinch my eyes closed, wanting to curl up into myself until I disappear.

“Is that stupid?” I ask.

Logan makes an amused noise. “No,” he answers. “You wanted to share the experience with a man you loved. A man who should have loved you, too. There’s nothing stupid about that.”

I lift my head, surprised by his words of comfort. I’d expected a mocking joke. Some cruel quip, perhaps. But not understanding. Patience. Empathy.

He rests a hand on my shoulder. I look at him, his features muted in the dark, but he’s no less handsome for it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, brushing it off.

I glance at the front door. “I’m sure the girls are getting tired of circling the block by now,” I say, giving him a way out.

But Logan chuckles. “Oh, they’re long gone by now.”

“Then, should I call you a cab?” I offer.

Another shake of his head, and Logan reaches for my hand.

“Come on,” he says, rising off the couch, giving me a tug to follow. “Give me the grand tour.”

19

KATRINA

Ilead Logan from room to room. The living room. The kitchen. We stop there for a quick drink of water, my nerves still very much on edge.

But Logan has a calming influence on me, it seems. Even though I’ve never given a man a tour of my home before. He stays close, asking questions and studying my photos like he... actually cares.

When we return to the living room, Logan points at the double doors on the other side. “What’s in there?” he asks.

“Oh, that,” I answer, “is my favorite room in the house.”

“Bedroom?”

I smile, shaking my head as I lead him there. I push open the double doors and flick on the small chandelier hanging from the ceiling, pivoting around so I can see his reaction as he walks in behind me.

Logan’s jaw drops. “Oh, kitty...” He beelines straight to the grand piano in the center of the room. “She’s gorgeous.”

“His name is Freddie,” I say.

“Oh, my apologies,” he says to it, genuinely. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Freddie.”

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