Page 112 of Logan
“Always had a thing for heels,” he grits out. “But fucking you in them? God, it’s like every fantasy coming to life.”
I can only moan in response, too far gone for words, for anything but sensation and hurtle toward the edge at breakneck speed, my body drawn taut as a bowstring, every nerve ending electrified.
When his fingers find my clit and begin to circle, I shatter with a ragged scream, my back bowing off the desk as I clench around him. He swears, his thrusts turning erratic, his control unraveling.
“Can’t... Fuck... Can’t hold back,” he pants. “You feel too good, you’re gonna make me...”
“Do it,” I urge. “Come in me. I want to feel you.”
The sounds he makes as he nears his peak, low and guttural and almost pained, make my toes curl in my heels. Iclench around him, wanting to feel him lose control, desperate for the heat of him flooding me.
But at the last second, he pulls out with a tortured groan, fisting himself as he paints my stomach and breasts with thick strokes of his release. I watch, dazed and panting, as he marks me with his cum.
He collapses over me, bracing his weight on his forearms, his breathing harsh in my ear. I run trembling hands down his back, marveling at the play of muscle, the heat of him.
“Mine,” he rumbles, his lips mapping my jaw, my throat. “Fucking mine. Do you hear me? No one else gets to see you like this. Touch you like this. I’ll kill them if they try.”
A shiver rolls through me at the dark promise in his words. I know I should balk at his possessiveness, be disturbed by the violence simmering just beneath the surface. But God help me, it just makes me want him more, makes me ache to surrender myself to him.
“Yours,” I agree. “Only yours.”
“Good girl.”
“What are we going to do about work? You’re still my boss.”
He closes his eyes. “I’ll think of something.”
His phone rings. He glances at the screen, and his face darkens. Then he straightens and pulls his clothes back on. “I have to go. There’s an emergency. I’m so sorry. The last thing I want is to leave you, but I have to deal with this now. We’ll talk tomorrow?” He kisses my forehead.
I nod, and he turns and hurries out.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? And why, despite the complications and the uncertainty, do I already crave more?
I clean myself up and get dressed. We were supposed to talk. Decide what to do next, and all I got was it’ll be fine. Nothing seems fine to me.
I turn off the light and head toward the elevator.
I freeze at the sound of rustling, my heart leaping into my throat. I strain my eyes, trying to penetrate the inky darkness, but I can’t make out any shapes or movements. Maybe I just imagined it, my mind playing tricks on me in the eerie stillness of the empty office.
I lick my dry lips, my tongue darting out. “Is someone there?” I call out, my voice sounding too loud, too brittle in the oppressive silence. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and the darkness seems to press in on me, menacing and thick with unnamed threats.
I fumble in my purse for my phone, my fingers clumsy with rising panic. I grip it, the edges digging into my palm, until my knuckles turn white with the strain. An icy shiver slides down my spine, the uncanny sensation of unseen eyes boring into me, watching, waiting.
“Hello?” I try again, hating the tremor in my voice. “Is anyone here? Show yourself.”
I spin in a slow circle, my heels sinking into the plush carpet, expecting at any moment to see a shadowy figure lurking in the corner, a flash of eyes in the dark. But there’s nothing, just the looming shapes of furniture and the faint glow of the exit sign over the door.
I press a hand to my forehead and let out a shaky laugh. That’s it, I’m officially losing it, jumping at shadows and imagining phantom stalkers.
The night’s events must be catching up with me, theadrenaline and endorphins fading, leaving me jittery and paranoid.
The ding of the elevator arriving makes me jump, my heart stuttering against my ribs. I hurry inside and stab at the lobby button, slumping against the wall in relief as the doors slide shut, sealing me in.
Chapter Thirty-Two
SLOANE
Idon’t even manage to sit down Monday morning, to feel the familiar embrace of my office chair before my phone rings. Liam’s name flashes on the screen and I frown, a trickle of unease sliding down my spine as I answer.
