"No. It's fine," she answered lightly.
He lifted his hand to her cheek. "I'm sorry."
She smiled and shook her head. "It's okay."
His gaze was intent, as if he were trying to learn her secrets. "Are you sure?"
She didn't have any secrets. He owned them all. "Yes."
"You know I'd never mean to hurt you, right?"
She held his eyes and something hot and intense passed between them. "I know."
"And you have to always tell me if I'm too rough," he said, his fingers swirling over her wrist.
She smiled softly in acknowledgement. "I will."
"You promise?"
The tenderness in his gaze was almost her undoing. "Yes."
His hand slid down and patted her on the butt. "Go get ready. I'm starving.
Chapter Ten
Another two months slid by, and to Lauren's way of thinking, Logan should have asked her to marry him by now. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was getting a little antsy. It was crazy, she knew, but she needed something from him.
He hadn't told her he loved her yet, and she hadn't pushed it.
But it was making her antsy.
The way she saw it, she was giving him what he wanted. She repeatedly told him she loved him, both because it sometimes slipped out of her mouth and because she knew he wanted to hear it.
She'd even tried to go a few days without saying it, but that had backfired on her every time she'd tried it. He'd get her naked in bed, get her crazy-assed steamed up until she couldn't think straight, and then he'd punish her by holding back until she was forced to say it.
And that was starting to irritate the hell out of her.
Why should he continue to hear an affirmation of her love, over and over again, and yet she never received the same words in return? It had been okay in the beginning, but now, this far into the relationship, she needed something from him, and the feeling wasn't going away.
It almost felt as if she was the one who was doing all the giving. And Lauren was smart enough to know that what she was feeling could turn into a dangerous emotion. She realized that this was one of the 'dangers in a relationship' that one read about in magazine articles and relationship books.
It had a simple name. Not communicating.
If two people failed to communicate in a relationship, then it was doomed.
But she was a little bit stubborn; she didn't want to be the one who instigated the 'communication'. At least, not now, not this time, not before they'd committed to each other one hundred percent. She took a determined breath and promised herself, faithfully, that once they were married, she'd step up to the plate and never let miscommunication of any kind cause hurt feelings between them.
Because in that moment, she admitted that her feelings were hurt.
She was only human, and female on top of it, and by God, she either wanted him to say the damn words or she wanted a marriage proposal. Preferably both. Post-haste.
Like now.
A queasy feeling roiled through her stomach as she continued to obsess about it. She'd also read in those same kinds of relationship articles that the majority of happily married women had 'forced' their men to commit.
Lauren immediately thought about the strong bond that her parents shared and the unquestionable love between them, even after thirty years of marriage. And she thought about the stories her mother jokingly told.
She and her mother had always had a close relationship, and even though they were indisputably mother and daughter, as Lauren had achieved adulthood and went off to college, that relationship had turned into the best kind of friendship, as well. And now, her mother's amused words were ringing in Lauren's ears. Your father would never have wanted to tie the knot. And really, why would he have? We'd been together for so long by that point, and I was doing everything for him. I was cooking his meals, cleaning his house, washing his clothes. And silly me, by that time I was sleeping in his bed, as well. So why would he have wanted to get married when he already had every advantage that marriage could bring?
Lauren remembered the day her mother had spilled those beans with a smile. Her very Catholic mother admitting she'd been sleeping with her father sans wedding vows. At the time, Lauren had gulped down her shock and asked her mom how she'd managed to get a proposal. Her mother had taken a sip of wine and given Lauren a sly, calculating look. Oh, it was ridiculously easy. I told him I wanted to get married, but he told me he wasn't ready to get married yet. So I told him that he could do his own laundry until we went to see the priest. He did his laundry one time and the very next week, we went to see the priest.
With that conversation striking an internal chord, Lauren wondered whether Logan was of the same mind as her father had been all those years ago. Had Lauren made it too easy for him? Did Logan have everything he wanted from her now and had no plans to commit? Had she been reading him wrong all along?
She hadn't read everything wrong. She knew he loved her.
Didn't she?
Crap. She was going to drive herself crazy thinking about this.
Something had to give.
Because now she was in a huge quandary. Her apartment lease was up for renewal in a couple of weeks, and she had no idea what to do about it. She didn't want to flat-out ask Logan what she should do, and she didn't want to casually mention it, as in a hint, because that was the same damn thing as flat-out asking him.
If she asked him, that would feel like pushing to her.
And she didn't want to have to push him. Not for everything.
Not this time.
If the butthole would just tell her that he loved her.
She exhaled raggedly in aggravation.
What the hell should she do about her apartment?
She was twenty-five, that was true. She was grown. She shouldn't care what her parents thought. But she did. And if she gave up her apartment, which she was sure Logan would want her to do, her parents would eventually find out that she was living with him, and they'd probably find out sooner rather than later.
And no matter how open-minded her mother seemed to be at times, it would cause her a lot of worry. And Lauren's father. Crap. Double standards and all that. Lauren was still and always would be, her father's little girl.
It might not break their hearts, but her mother would obsess and worry and her father wouldn't care for it at all. So Lauren had about another week, at best, before something had to give.
She just prayed like hell that she hadn't been reading Logan wrong. If it turned out that he didn't care for her the same way she cared for him . . . no. That was crazy.
She wasn't even going to go there.
Logan closed his laptop and rose to his feet and stretched his stiff muscles. He couldn't concentrate for shit. Something was up with Lauren and it was about to drive him insane. For the last few days she'd been uncommunicative, almost despondent. A sorrow seemed to be constantly weighing her down.
She went to work and then she came home, but the animation seemed to have left her features.
He gnashed his fist to his teeth in frustration. He had no idea what was wrong with her, but something was, and it was scaring the fucking shit out of him.
She seemed to be going through the motions of her day as if by rote. She still slept with him every night, she still opened herself to him and shared her body with him, she still clung to him the same as she always had, almost joyfully . . . certainly generously.
But there was a difference.
And that difference was slowly driving him insane as the days wore on.
She was mostly silent as they made love. She was swallowing and holding inside the small moans and soft noises that always drove him insane with lust. She was holding her emotions in check, and only under duress would she utter those three little words that he craved.
Something was wrong with her. Was she trying to slow the relationship down? Was she even questioning her love for him?
She had to be.
And why shouldn't she be?
He was moving too fucking fast for her; he had been from the very beginning. He'd maneuvered her into going out with him, he'd seduced her into sleeping with him, and he'd railroaded her into a relationship with him.
Fear, stark and vivid, slid down his spine and coalesced in a burning ache in the pit of his stomach. What the hell was he going to do?
What could he do to make it go back to the way it had been six weeks ago or so when his world was just about as damn perfect as he could have wanted it to be? It had been perfect, except for the minor detail of finessing her into marriage.
Minor detail, his ass.
He'd been working on that. He'd been strategically analyzing his plan. He'd been biding his time, holding back until he knew she'd want to give in to him. Because if he moved too quickly . . . if she didn't want to marry him . . . well, that scenario scared him shitless.
She must have felt his need to accelerate the relationship and bind her to him forever, and it had scared her. That had to be what this was all about. Didn't it?
Motherfucker, he had to marry her. He needed to marry her. He loved her so much, beyond anything he could have ever imagined in his life.
And she had to know she held his heart in the palm of her hand.
But she was pulling away from him. Why? What the hell had he done wrong and how in the hell was he supposed to fix it if he didn't know what it was?
Lauren glanced up from unloading the dishwasher and sucked in a breath as she saw Logan advancing toward her with a purpose. His eyes glittered, and he had that don't fuck with me look about him that she loved so much.
Why did she love that about him so much? How could she possibly stick to her guns when he made her insides quake this way?