“No, I mean you probably have a concussion and I really can’t let you sleep.”
He nods, and his eyebrow arches suggestively. “Guess we should find a way to keep me up then.”
I’m still sitting right on the edge of his bed, right next to him, and I swallow heavily, my pulse hammering in my chest as I find myself biting my lip and locking eyes with him. There’s a spark there, something familiar, and yet something wildly strange, and for whatever reason, it’s drawing me in like a moth to flame.
There’s a final moment, right before my lips touch his - right before I let myself go and right before we both crash together - where I suddenly realize I don’t even know his name.
But of course by then, it’s almost better not knowing.
Chapter Four
Quinn
“Are you fucking kidding me!?”
No, no FUCKING way. Taking the job with Archer Holdings was one thing, but there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I’m going to work under Logan fucking Dempsey for the next three months. No fucking way at all.
Instantly, my mind goes to an entirely new place with the thought of being under Logan, and I blush at the dirty thoughts that quickly escalate in my head before I shake them away and scowl at him, as if this smug prick set this whole damn thing up from the start.
“Yeah,” Logan runs a hand through that perfect head of dark hair. “We should probably talk about this.”
He reaches out to put a hand on my arm but I yank it away from him. “Don't touch me,” I hiss, mentally cursing my sister and the entire concept of a wedding with no booze.
“Will you fucking relax?” He says, brow furrowing.
“And don't tell me to re-”
“Well calm the fuck down then, instead.” He growls, suddenly grabbing me by the arms and pushing me back against the wall. A tiny gasp drops from my lips and I blush bright pink as I realize that I'm instantly and horribly turned on by his rough touch. I can smell his aftershave, and the vague familiarity of it from that night invades my head in ways it really shouldn’t. His pressed dress shirt is open at the collar, his bow-tie undone, and I can see the inked lines peeking out through the opening there from the tattoos that I know cover his chest and shoulders.
His perfect, chiseled, muscled chest and shoulders.
I shake my head again. I mean how the hell would I have ever guessed that the stranger from that night with a body made for sin would actually in fact be one of the wealthiest men in New York? Aren’t billionaires supposed to be eccentric old guys who live in board rooms? Since when do they have stab wounds, bruises, and heavy tattoos covering perfectly sculpted muscled bodies and a huge, thick - I blush, my thought trailing off as I think of the tool I know Logan’s packing between his legs.
“I am not working for you, you prick.” I spit out, willing myself to look as defiant as possible and hoping that it covers the flush of arousal blooming on my chest and face.
Logan arches a dark brow at me. “You’ve already signed the papers-”
“Then sue me.”
He rolls his eyes. “And we’re funding the research team you’re leaving behind at Mt. Sinai for five more years since they’re losing you for a few months Fully funding, Quinn.”
“So?” I spit out. Great, yeah, fund the research team comprised of my dickhead ex and the skanky under-qualified blowjob queen who’s taking my place. Perfect. I’m being petulant and childish, and I know it, but I’m just too furious at the situation to get past that. I have one Goddamn one-night-stand and fate serves me up Logan fucking Dempsey. My father’s military pal, basically my new brother-in-law, and oh, apparently also my new boss. I mean seriously, what fucking horrible karma am I paying off right now?
His strong hands on my arms are warm, and I snap out of my little pity-party as I suddenly think that they may just feel too good on my skin. I’m remembering the feel of those hands on other parts of me, but then I’m quickly shaking my head and pushing him away from me, like pushing away the last bite of dessert even though you so desperately want a taste.
“Fine.” I say, still fuming and acting like a child.
Logan has an arrogant looking smirk on his face. “So that sounds like a big fat ‘maybe’.”
“Don’t get cute.” I mutter.
“Oh I thought I already was cute, which is why you just couldn’t resist me the other night.”
Is this fucking guy for real?
“It’s a yes,” I hiss out through clenched teeth. “But watch it.”
He chuckles like we’re having some sort of witty banter. Like we’re just two old friends chumming around. “Well, we do need to talk about what happened.” He says, his eyes flashing at me.