"I can be a slut if I want to." God, was that the stupidest thing she'd ever said?
He took a drink of his margarita and then slowly answered her. "Okay, whatever. You can practice with me if you want to."
"Yeah, right," she smirked.
He turned back toward her and his glance captured hers. "You don't think I could teach you a few things?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a withering stare. "Oh, I imagine."
He looked at her as if they were engaged in a game of Chess and he was about to capture her queen. "Why would that be, sweetheart?"
She didn't take the time to think about her rebuttal. "Because you're dripping with experience and I'm not."
He reached across and grasped her cheek and forced her to look into his eyes. "Sweet." His gaze ran to her lips and then back again. "I close my case." He turned away and looked out over the restaurant and just about that time, the waiter came and delivered their food.
They sparred throughout the entire meal. She goaded him, he goaded her back and the sexual chemistry between them only grew as the night wore on.
They drove back to her apartment, and as he began walking her upstairs, her nerves were so shot that she stumbled and almost tripped. He caught her by the arm and steadied her, turning her so that she leaned against him. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, embarrassed.
"Why do you wear those goddamn shoes so high? You're only going to hurt yourself."
She was standing so close to him that his scent went to her head. She'd never met a more arrogant man in her life, and she hated herself for how fast her pulse was racing. She knew he'd just said something to her that demanded a rebuttal, but for the life of her she couldn't get her brain to function.
He smiled again, that same smile he'd shot at her the first time she'd met him, when he'd cornered her at the back of the coffee shop. His eyes ran over her and Lauren felt it all the way to her soul. "You are sweet, Lauren," he said, not letting the conversation from the restaurant completely die. "I don't give a shit what you say."
His statement sounded so honest that currents of pleasure rushed through her at the compliment and she gave up her belligerence for the moment. "If . . . if you say so."
"I say so." He lowered his head to her ear and his words rattled from his throat. "Let me come upstairs with you and strip you naked. You know we both want it."
She shook her head and he pressed a single kiss on her lips before leaning his forehead down on hers in temporary defeat. "Okay. So, tomorrow night?"
The relief she felt again startled her. She couldn't deny it to herself. He intrigued her and she wanted to keep seeing him, even if they did makes sparks of anger fly off each other. "You want to go out again tomorrow night? You sure?"
A glimmer of a smile tilted his lips and something flickered in his eyes. "Yeah."
"Okay," she replied simply.
His expression hardened. "Third date. Tomorrow night, I get you butt-assed naked."
She regarded him with a searching look as her nerves tangled in her throat. "Not . . . not necessarily."
He ignored that and with a casualness that she didn't quite believe, he took her hand and walked her up to her front door where he proceeded to give her a mind-blowing kiss.
She hung in the circle of his arms, and when it was over, he lifted his head and stared down at her. "Yeah, it's necessary. I'm taking you to bed tomorrow night and don't for one second think that it's going to be otherwise, understand?"
He stood still as if waiting for her to agree, and with her heart beating a crazy tattoo inside her chest, she unlocked the door, twisted the doorknob and escaped inside her apartment.
Lauren opened her door the next night ready to walk out and not be cornered. With his mandate from the previous night ringing in her ears all day, her plan was to outmaneuver him. She'd been fully ready an hour before the designated time, just to be sure, and when she opened her door, she had her bag over her shoulder and her keys in her hand, ready to lock the door behind them.
But Logan completely out-played her.
He had Chinese takeout in a bag and as she opened the door, he pushed it toward her and she automatically took it before she realized her mistake. He walked over the threshold, and she stepped back as he slammed the door shut with a booted foot. She watched him as if in a daze as he turned and bolted the door and then even locked it with the chain for good measure.
He turned back to face her, leaned against the door and folded his arms over his chest.
How the hell had he done that?
With her heartbeat in overdrive, she took the two small steps that brought her to the kitchen counter and dropped the bag down and then turned to face him, wanting to keep him in her line of sight.
He said not a single word, but the look on his face was enough to make her begin hyperventilating. He wore his favored jeans and tonight he had on a tight, black t-shirt that molded his pecs and sent spasms of heat down her spine.
She watched him warily as he continued to lean back and when he pushed off the door and took one step toward her, she knew her face reflected her alarm.
She was completely speechless; she knew for a fact that he could tell that she was quaking on the inside. A war of emotions raging within, she swallowed and ran her damp palms down the silk of her dress.
As the blood pumped heavily through her veins, she tried to decide what to do. He took another slow step forward that felt as if he were stalking her. His gaze never left hers. "It's Sunday," he stated, as if she was supposed to know what that meant.
"Yes," she agreed mildly, disoriented by that statement but determined to continue breathing evenly.
"Can you count to three?" he asked in a slightly ominous voice that sent unwanted ripples of arousal down her spine.
She was nervous and more than a bit disturbed. Turned on and a tiny bit intimidated. A gamut of perplexing emotions ran through her as he stood just opposite of her, staring down at her and reducing the thoughts in her head to drivel. She was silent, not about to agree to anything he might be intimating, no matter the ribbon of heat that was settling in her midsection.
He took the last step that brought him into her personal space. Reaching out, he pulled the strap from her shoulder and dropped her purse to the floor at her side. He dropped his hands down and encircled each of her wrists within the grasp of his fingers. "Friday, Saturday, Sunday," he enunciated clearly as he began walking her backwards, until her spine hit the same wall he'd had her against the night before. He lifted her arms above her head and as her breath quickened and began to come in raspy gasps, he gripped both of her wrists in one strong hand and brought the other down to lift her chin.
He pressed his torso fully into hers and she was immediately, intimately introduced to his erection, hot and hard, pushing against her stomach. His eyes clashed and held hers. "Friday, Saturday, Sunday," he repeated. "One, two, three," he continued, counting slowly and evenly.
Lauren was sinking under his spell faster than she could control. Sexual awareness, brought about by the hard iron of his muscles and the steel of his arousal made thinking impossible. "One, two, three," she whispered, parroting him, only aware at this point of his corded, sinewy strength pressing against her and the intoxicated need that enticed her to submit.
His hand slid from her chin to the row of buttons down her dress and released them in seconds. He let go of her hands only briefly, and with a strength and determination that totally disarmed her, stripped her of her dress. She found herself standing in her bra and panties and stilettos, with her dress tossed down at her feet. She sucked in a stunned breath, and he grabbed her hands again, holding them rigid above her head.
"One date, two dates, three dates, mine." His voice was guttural, and as his mouth closed over hers, Lauren shut her eyes and gave in to what they both wanted.
Logan felt her relax against the wall, and his head almost exploded with relief. She was driving him completely insane; he'd never wanted a woman the way he wanted this one. He'd done nothing but think about her since the first moment he'd seen her. She was affecting his sleep and his work and his ability to do anything else. She was the epitome of femininity and she was fucking with his brain and he knew that there was no way he could rest until he'd had her.
He pushed his tongue inside her mouth, and all he could think about was getting his cock into her wet, silky heat. She was trembling against him, trying to breathe, and he tried to go easy on her, but he couldn't resist dominating her with his mouth.
He felt a rush of fire; he let her hands go and wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her, arching her back, trying to align their pelvises together. Her hands fell to his shoulders and he continued to kiss her as he reached down and twisted the snap between her breasts. He felt the material give away, and completely fascinated, he tore his mouth free so that he could see what he'd unwrapped.
Her breasts were not quite medium-sized, soft and white, tipped with pink nipples that were already hardened into tight little buds.
Lust seized him by the throat and he almost lost it that very instant.
He lifted her up, and dropped his mouth down to enclose a breast. He began sucking and licking, and took the time only to hoist her up and wrap her legs around his waist. Not letting go of the breast he'd captured, he began walking into her bedroom, intent on his mission.