Wild(47)

            God. I’d never had anyone breathe words that hot into my ear before. I didn’t think I even remembered conversation happening when Harris and I fooled around, but Logan talked. Something told me he would talk all throughout it. Sexy, dirty words. And I had to be honest with myself—I liked that. I wanted that.

            He gave my hair a slight tug, pulling my head back even farther and arching my throat. “Then I’d do other things to you. With my mouth. My tongue. My teeth. I’d taste all of you, every inch of your sweet peach skin . . .”

            A thrill shot through me. I felt his words as effectively as a skilled touch.

            With one hand still fisted in my hair, holding me hostage, his other hand was free to roam, free to toy with one of the straps that he had threatened to tear. “Were you on a date, Georgia? Is that why you put on your pretty dress? Did you let him kiss you? Touch you?”

            I made a strained, incoherent sound and shook my head.

            “No?” he asked idly, giving my head another tug. “He didn’t kiss you?”

            “N-no.”

            “Good. Because that wouldn’t be very fair to the bastard, would it? Kissing him when it’s me you want.”

            I sputtered, then laughed hoarsely, fighting to hold his brilliant blue gaze and not look away. “God. You’re arrogant.”

            “Honest. There’s a difference. If you were honest, you would just say it. Admit you want me to fuck you.”

            I blinked, startled, both turned on and horrified at his blunt speech. He just called it what it was. What it would be if the two of us were to come together.

            He laughed roughly and released me then, stepping back. “But you’re too scared to let that happen, aren’t you? To be honest with yourself. With me.”

            This is the part where I could have admitted that I wanted him. That I was honest with myself. I knew I wanted him. I just wasn’t going to let myself have him.

            Flings with eighteen-year-old guys weren’t responsible. And yet I held silent. Admitting I wanted him was giving him power over me, and when it came to him I already felt too weak.

            His chest fell and lifted slightly and I realized he was turned on, too. My gaze dropped and I noticed the raging hard-on pressed against the front of his jeans.

            I yanked my gaze back up, cheeks burning.

            “Logan.” I hardly recognized my own voice. It sounded so small and tremulous. Not the mature twenty-year-old I was going for. “This is out of hand. You need to leave me alone.” Please. I didn’t say it, but the word hung there because I was afraid I couldn’t resist him much longer. If he continued to come around me. Touching me. Talking to me the way he did. I was lost.

            He stared at me for a long moment, those vivid blue eyes examining me in a way that made me feel somehow lacking. Then he nodded once, his jaw tense, mouth set grimly. “I’m gone.”

            I watched, battling feelings of disappointment and helplessness as he turned his back and left me alone in the loft.

            I stood there for a long moment, shaking.

            And still wanting him.





            Chapter 11

            I’D GIVEN UP EXPECTING Logan to knock on my door. Each night I would listen as Mulvaney’s quieted under my feet, closing for the night. I’d gotten in the habit of keeping late hours. Unfortunately that meant instead of sleeping, I got hungry in the middle of the night. I often found myself raiding my kitchen. Tonight was no exception. I had even made plans for the perfect late-night snack. Pretzel bread was my weakness. I’d picked up some from a bakery a few blocks from campus. I’d already bought turkey and Swiss cheese earlier in the week. Ducking to peer inside the refrigerator, I realized that I was still missing a key ingredient.