"Oh, shit is right," he snarled in answer as he picked her up by the hips and walked forward until her back hit the wall.
She attempted to unfreeze her last few remaining brain cells and divert him from his goal. "You have a thing about walls, don't you?"
"Only with you." He frowned as if puzzled, but it didn't detract him in the least.
He completely controlled her movements with his torso. Slowly, he let her slide down until she came to an abbreviated stop, her legs forked over a muscular thigh.
The contact hit her with a force of lust that panicked her. "Oh, shit," she mumbled again, glancing down between them for a heartbeat of a second.
"Yeah." He sounded as dazed as she felt and she lifted her eyes to his. As he looked down into her upturned face, the very second their eyes clashed, he lifted a hand and encapsulated her breast.
She gasped and felt the flood of heat that dampened her panties. Mortified color spread over her cheekbones as she realized he could probably feel her wetness on his thigh.
They stared at each other for two seconds while her heat penetrated his blue jeans, and with a hissing sound of pure reverence, he muttered, "Jesus Christ," and raked his thumb over her nipple right before his head lowered and his mouth sank over hers. Lights began flashing in her head, butterflies swirled in her stomach, and all Lauren could do was hang in the circle of his arms as he all but ravished her mouth with his tongue.
As he pushed in and out of her mouth, his hand quickly slid down and untied the sash at her waist. He pushed one side of the robe out of his way, and his hand came back to her breast, now covered only by the silk of her bra. His palm engulfed her completely, his hand squeezed and a beguiling sexual need took over her entire body.
Even as he grasped her breast with uncompromising demand, he lifted his head again and caught her eyes. He ran his gaze over her features only long enough to rasp out, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're unbelievable." And then his mouth began to fall again.
It was the wake-up call that Lauren needed, and she stiffened her body and turned her head away. "No," she panted.
His hand left her breast, snaked up to her chin and pulled her face back to his again. "No?"
Lauren felt a dangerous tension take hold of his body and the steel that corded his muscles. This was it. He was either a good guy, or he wasn't. She took a deep breath and shook her head.
He scowled and irritated displeasure came over his features, but he made no move to grab her again. "Why the hell not?"
"I'm not sleeping with you yet," she said as firmly as she could manage with his torso plastered against hers and her wet core rubbing against his thigh.
"Are you playing some ridiculous game with me?" he accused in a menacing voice.
Lauren's nerves shifted restlessly. She frowned and was about to deny it but then she actually thought about the question. Her eyes closed momentarily in defeat before she admitted, "Crap. Evidently, I am."
He looked completely floored by her response and it was obvious to Lauren that he was taken aback by her honesty. "Why?" he asked in a slightly more gentle tone.
She took a breath. "Two reasons." He wasn't going to be happy, but she was going to be as honest with him as she could be, and if he didn't like it . . . oh, well. "One . . . apparently there's this three-date rule that says if I sleep with you before the third date, then I'm a slut. And two . . . I'm not a slut." At his stunned look, she asked, "Have you heard of it?"
He had the gall to laugh. "Yes."
Lauren began to wiggle away from him and was a bit surprised that he let her get away. As she tied her sash, he asked, "Apparently? Are you telling me you're just now finding out about it?"
She pulled more tightly on the sash. "Yeah, pretty much."
"How?"
"How am I only now becoming aware of it?" At his quick nod, she continued, "I have a friend from work, Heidi, she's trying to give me slut lessons--"
"Slut lessons?"
"Don't get your hopes up. It's her dream, not mine, and it isn't going to happen." Lauren took two steps toward the bedroom door on trembling limbs, trying to escape from not only him, but also the conversation. "Can you sit there until I'm ready?" She pointed to the chair he'd refused to sit in earlier.
He lifted his hands in the air as if he'd thrown in the towel, and moved to plop his large body down on her Queen Anne armchair. She winced as she heard the wood creak under his weight. "I'll be out in five minutes."
"Don't rush, you just shot my entire evening to hell."
Lauren turned and gave him a fulminating look that she couldn't control. "That was rude. If you only want to take me out for one thing--"
"Don't start." He indicated her bedroom by pointing. "Get your little butt in there and get dressed."
Her little butt? Lauren stilled completely and crossed her arms over her chest. "Logan--"
He came to his feet, stood to his full height and her words stopped at the look on his face. "We can play this a couple of ways, sweetheart." He stood nonchalantly, but Lauren was supremely aware that there was nothing nonchalant about his words or his actions. "You can be a good little girl and go on in there and get dressed . . . or . . . " He clamped his bottom lip between gritted teeth as he looked her up and down. "Or, you can keep standing there, you can keep throwing down that gauntlet, and we'll see just how fast I can pick it up and spank your naked ass with it." He lifted one deadly serious eyebrow. "Can you guess which one I want you to choose?"
Disbelief mixed with a dangerous coil of heat hit Lauren. He wasn't serious, was he? She didn't think he'd actually try to spank her; he was exaggerating for effect. Because that was just fifty shades of bullshit. Nobody, but nobody, was ever going to ride all over her like that. But the sexual threat, in whatever form he'd meant it, was there. Put right out in front of her. Sexual heat from his challenge lanced her core. The guy was so freakin' intense, but he was also the sexiest guy she'd ever met in her entire life. She breathed in deeply, stood there for two more seconds wondering what in the shit she was getting into and berating herself for it, and then she turned and slammed her bedroom door shut behind her.
This time he took her to a crowded Mexican restaurant. There was one thing she was going to give him credit for. He'd simply asked her if Mexican food was all right. She'd been on more than a few dates in her life, and she absolutely hated it when a guy had no plan, or expected her to always be the one to say where they were going or to come up with something to do. But Logan wasn't like that and she admitted to herself that she appreciated that about him.
Once again, she found herself sitting in a booth beside him instead of across from him.
He ordered two margaritas and they sat perusing the menus while they waited for their drinks to be delivered.
Although she gave him credit for choosing the restaurant, Lauren silently fumed about his threatening words before they'd left her apartment.
Caveman.
The guy was worse than alpha. He was worse than the descriptions that Heidi had supplied. He was worse than what she'd read when she'd Googled 'alpha-male'.
But Christ. She wanted to sleep with him worse than anything she'd ever wanted before in her life. She was ashamed to admit that. Thank God she only had to admit it to herself and no one else.
"Tell me about the slut lessons," he ordered, taking her by surprise.
She shrugged her shoulders and made a stab at nonchalance. "There's really nothing to tell. I'm not actually taking lessons. I'm pretty sure if I wanted to be a slut, then I could figure it out for myself." She couldn't help the cool tone of her voice; this guy would walk all over her if she let him.
He let out a grunt. He actually grunted.
Lauren lowered her head so he couldn't see her roll her eyes. What the hell was she doing here?
"So this Heidi chick was just imparting her wisdom?"
"Yeah, pretty much," she answered neutrally.
He let out a mirthless laugh. "You couldn't be a slut if you tried."
Lauren turned to look at him, but the server came up just then and they had to place their orders. After the young man had turned and left, Lauren asked, "Why do you say that?"
"About not being able to be a slut?" He turned in his seat to look at her and with a finger under her chin, lifted her face so he could better study her. The steel in his spine seemed to relax a degree and his eyes softened. "You're too sweet," he rasped from deep in his throat.
She refused to allow the tingle in her belly go any farther. "I'm not sweet." Why would she take offense at that?
He lifted his brows. "Yeah, I'm fairly certain you are."
She frowned. "I'm not."
"How many guys have you slept with?" he asked in a bored tone of voice.
Lauren couldn't get enough oxygen. "That's none of your business."
He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care, but for whatever reason, Lauren wasn't buying it.
"You didn't know about the three-date rule," he said.
"So what the hell does that matter?" she questioned, not seeing his point, suddenly taking offense at everything that came from his mouth.
He didn't get upset at her tone, his manner only turned warmer. "Don't get mad at me, sweetheart. I'm just calling it as I see it."