Wild(89)

            “Sorry, but criminal trespass actually is a crime.” Brackets of disapproval tightened around his mouth.

            “Criminal trespass? But we’re not trespassing. This house belongs to Andy . . . I think. It belongs to a friend of his.” I paused beneath the weight of the man’s frown. He reminded me of my high school gym coach. Mr. Kramer had been incapable of smiling, too.

            I smiled in a placating manner. “I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. We didn’t break into this house. Talk to Andy . . .”

            “Your friend Andy, and the rest of you here, do not have the owner’s permission to be in this house. A neighbor saw all the lights on and called it in. The residents are out of town right now. We have to bring you in.”

            Oh, God. Bitter realization washed over me. Andy had broken into this house. My gaze shot to Logan’s face. Had we all unwittingly stumbled into his crime? Did Logan know?

            As though he could read my thoughts, he shook his head at me. “Georgia, I didn’t know.” He looked pissed enough for me to believe him.

            My gaze moved to the desk. I just had sex on some stranger’s desk. Suddenly everything that transpired between us felt cheapened. Logan knew exactly what I was thinking because his eyes grew flinty. “Georgia,” he started to say. “Don’t . . .”

            “Spread your legs apart please. No, keep your hands in the air,” the officer directed when my hands started to dip.

            My face burned even hotter at the businesslike request. I obeyed, watching Logan from the corner of my eye. He followed suit, too. I didn’t know what I expected—for him to resist in some hot-headed display of temper? The only outward sign of his anger was a nerve ticking near his eye. His feaures looked cast in stone.

            The cop issuing orders jerked his head to another policeman who stepped forward to frisk us. He made short work of the task. His movements were brisk and impersonal.

            I could hardly process it all. I was reeling from the fact that this was really happening.

            I was being arrested. If my mother could only see—

            I killed the thought, refusing to let it fully form. It was too much to bear contemplation.

            “Hands behind your back.”

            We turned. My legs felt numb beneath me. Yeah. This was a real-life nightmare. I blinked. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t stop the hot track of tears from falling down my cheeks.

            Logan leaned close to whisper against my face. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it cleared up.”

            I flinched as his mouth brushed my cheek, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, inquiring.

            I whimpered as the officer closed the hard steel around my wrists and flinched at their grinding click. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I felt like the prisoner I was. I had done this to myself. This was my punishment. This was what happened to good girls when they decided to step off the path. I played with fire and got burned. Mom had warned me. She had taught me to be better than this . . . but here I was, being led from a room. Handcuffed. The smell of sex still ripe on me. The censorious eyes of police all around me.

            I tore my gaze from Logan as we were ushered out into the hall.

            “Georgia, look at me,” he commanded.

            I shook my head and stared ahead. Other members of the kink club joined us in the hall. All of them were handcuffed like we were. I spotted Annie down at the end. Her shirt was inside out. She was shooting her mouth off to one of the police officers. Once they appeared satisfied that they had us all out in the hall, a female officer read us our rights.