He said nothing, lifting my hands in his. I tugged them away and looked up at him, determined to keep the upper hand as long as possible. He was winning, and there was no way I could stop it.
I spoke with newfound determination and strength. “So let’s just get this over with—right where we started, exactly where you wanted it!”
I reached out and gripped the fabric of his dark wool coat around his forearms and crushed my lips to his before he had a chance to reply. The pounding music blaring from the bar set the tone of our pained kiss. This was it. I was giving him what he wanted—what my body needed.
On my terms.
Clutching onto Logan for dear life, I ambled backward, his hands now tight around my waist. He kissed me with equal force.
There we were—ready, wanting. Quick and hard in the parking lot of Haven. The thought broke the last shred of hope I’d held onto as his hands roamed freely over my back and down to my ass, squeezing me against him.
When I hit the wall, stopping my steps, my hands worked quickly, making its way down his broad chest and pushing his unbuttoned coat open. The width of it hung around me, sucking me into the warmth and heady scent I’d forever crave, despite myself.
“Cassandra.” My name on his lips sounded almost like a plea.
A plea for more?
With one hand holding him close around his neck, the other traveled to the waist of his trousers and, in a brazen move, stroked his growing erection. Tonight I’d be the woman who took what she wanted, then walked away before he had a chance to.
A groan poured from his lips and vibrated through mine. He pulled me closer, his manhood pressed tight against the fabric covering my body, begging to be released. With angry hands and skillful fingers needing to make a point and show him exactly what was behind his fascination with me, I tugged open his belt.
I caught his bottom lip in my teeth, tugging and nipping, leaving kisses over his five o’clock shadow. I made my way up to his ear, where I ran my tongue over his lobe.
“Sweetheart…”
Pleased I was able to take control so easily, I ran my tongue over his earlobe and whispered, “It’s time we got this over with.” Not missing a beat, my lips descended to his neck as my fingers snapped open the button on his fly.
The zipper was in my hand, and with one look up under my long lashes to Logan’s dark, tense eyes, I dropped down to my knees—a first for me—taking his zipper down with me.
This was what he wanted, and this is what it would take to show him I was no different from any other girl. I was nothing he’d consider special for long.
My hand dipped inside his open pants, grabbing his hard, impressive length. The strong, hefty girth filled my palm; he was larger than I’d dreamt, and oh, how I’d experienced hours and hours of fantasies about the moment I’d finally have him like this. None of them even came close to reality.
When I closed my palm around him, I gave a firm squeeze, relishing the sight of his head falling back as he grunted an inaudible mumble. I pulled his erection completely free of the prohibiting fabric to take control over his body.
I wasn’t prepared for his reaction. He stepped back with a loud huff.
“Damn it!” Logan grunted as he tucked himself back in and zipped his pants. “Not like this,” he said to himself, but I caught it.
Snowflakes floated down around him as he turned his back to me, and I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took a deep breath and then ran his hands through his hair.
Slowly, he turned back and looked down at me, still on my knees, muddled with chaotic thoughts and arousal, desperate to be sated.
“Get. Up!” He growled, his face set with rage.
“Why? This is what you want—your words, I believe, were that you wanted to ‘fuck me in the alley’! So what’s the problem? You want to move down a few more feet to be in that exact spot?”
“Get. The fuck. Off your knees!”
It was irrational, but I wasn’t moving. “Get the fuck out of my head!” I screamed.
He stood over me, eyes wide with fury, and ripped me from the ground, holding me up by my forearms.
“Why?” he hissed through gritted teeth, nostrils flared. “Are you that scared of me—of the possibility of us?”
“Shut up!” I struggled in his arms and beat my hands against his chest, but his grip never wavered.
“I’m not the same man I was then.”
“A week ago?” I scoffed.
“You didn’t want me!” he protested, but I was too lost in my anger to process anything at that moment. “You changed me, Cassandra—showed me what was possible. What do I have to do? Tell me anything, and I’ll do it!”
I let out a heavy breath and sunk into his hold on me.
“I never wanted a relationship with any woman after Natasha. Do you hear me? Never. I foolishly convinced myself that what I had with her was as good as love could get, so I gave up and never thought about the possibility of it again.” He crooked his finger under my chin, lifting my face to him.
“I hate that you saw my past indiscretions, and worse, what you saw of them tonight. I have no excuse, but a man has needs, Cassandra, and I was never one to refrain from activities I found enjoyable. So for the past four years, I’ve taken what I wanted—what desperate women threw so easily at me. You should have never had to listen to those girls in there who meant nothing to me—women I never spared another thought about after I’d left them.”
I tried to look away—it was too much to hear—but he held my chin firmly.
“I was miserable, Cassandra, for years—young, and unsure how to raise Oliver on my own. So I did things that I regret—things at the time to…to help me feel. Regain the control that Natasha stole. It was nothing more than a means to an end for lonely nights. I can’t deny that I had more than a man’s fair share, but I never felt like this. Not until you.”
“Don’t say that,” I all but pleaded under my breath.
“What do you want me to say, then? What can I do?”
The liquor was fueling my actions—at least, that was how I justified what I said next, because it was as shocking to me as it was to him.
I held his gaze in mine and murmured, “Show me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Reality Crashes
The kiss he bestowed upon my lips was anything but forgettable, soft yet demanding. His hands reached behind me and lifted me up into his arms, and I didn’t fight him.
I went with it, my body needing to feel the connection, if only once. I never stopped kissing him, my tongue exploring the hidden caverns of his warm mouth laced with the taste of liquor and mint. Even as I felt him walking, carrying me away, I never broke the contact.
The steps he took were up metal stairs. When he stopped at the top, he released one hand and dug it into his pocket, but I only held him tighter around the neck, not wanting to break the moment. My brain switched back off happily, going with what felt right.
A door creaked open and he carried me farther, my hands fisting his dark hair. Uncontrollable, my hips began grinding against his strong abs, ready for what I knew would be a night to remember—even if it meant spending the rest of my life trying to forget it.
This wasn’t love. Love shouldn’t be this hard…this painful.