Page 34 of Logan
Emery is right, I probably read too many romance novels.
Chapter Eleven
LOGAN
“You know, I was expecting you to yell at me,” Sloane says, her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap.
The moment between us a minute ago was so intense that I almost dropped to my knees and begged to eat her pussy. The way she looked at me as if she wanted me... Fuck, I was close. “Why would I yell at you?”
“Because of...you know, everything that’s happened. Plus, I did end up grabbing your...family diamonds.”
“Diamonds?” A smirk plays on my lips.
“What else should I call them?”
“Well, most refer to them as the family jewels, not diamonds. Though, simply ‘balls’ suffices.”
She nods. “Maybe nuts? It sounds nicer and cute.”
Suppressing a smile is a battle. “I’m hardly a squirrel, and there’s nothing nice and cute about my balls.”
“I didn’t really get a measure of them?—”
“So you’ve said, but let’s drop the topic of my balls unless you’re planning to do more than just talk.”
Her silence follows, cheeks aflame. “So, why didn’t you yell at me?”
“I never raise my voice.”
She tilts her head. “Shauna quit because she thought she heard you shouting at Liam. You know, the VP. Your brother.”
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “What she thought she saw is beyond me. Shouting isn’t something I resort to.”
“Yes,” Sloane muses, her gaze lingering on me, assessing as if trying to reconcile the man before her with the rumors that swirl around the office. “You manage to intimidate even in silence.”
“Am I scaring you?”
She pauses, her eyes darting away briefly before meeting mine again, a hint of resolve flickering within. “Yes. No, not anymore, I mean.”
A smile breaks free, curving my lips upward despite my attempt at neutrality. “I insist on professionalism. Loafers, those who shirk their duties, irk me. But I never resort to shouting. It solves nothing.”
Her gaze locks onto mine.
Yes, I push my team hard, but no harder than I push myself.
As she observes me, her lips part, the tip of her tongue appearing. It’s a small, unconscious gesture, yet it sends my thoughts spiraling.
Truly, if there were awards for self-control, I’d be the undisputed champion.
Fuck, I feel like pinning her to the wall and pounding her so hard she screams my name. Again and again. The way she looks at me, like she wants it, like she wants me to fuck her, almost destroys what little resistance I have left.
Perhaps the award for restraint isn’t mine to claim after all. I did take advantage of her little moment of embarrassment to force her to join the meal at Wolfson’s.
I thought about hiring someone, but Sloane is the ideal choice. There’s no one more suited to defend the deal than the architect of the product herself. It feels like more than a coincidence that she’s here. It’s as if it was always meant to fall into place this way.
“…Do you want to come with me?”
Sloane’s voice slices through my haze of thoughts. What did she just say? “Come where?”
