Chapter 23
I feel so . . . content. After stocking the fridge and showering off the hectic day, we’re finally alone on his balcony, sipping old-fashioneds. The warm bourbon softens the mood as we settle into our cushioned chairs, watching the vibrant pink sky sink below the peaks.
The mountains almost don’t look real. They sprawl across the entire horizon, shooting out of the earth, mingling with the clouds like giant snow-capped castles in the sky.
Pine trees cover the lower ridges, caught between valleys and foothills with pops of green.
It’s like a postcard one might find at a gift shop—wish you were here.
Except the only person I want with me is already by my side.
The peaks possess an untamed wilderness that doesn’t answer to anyone. The beauty that exists in Montana isn’t something you can claim, regardless of whether you were raised here or are just passing through—it tolerates your presence the same way it tolerates the sunrises and sunsets.
Even with the occasional chilled breeze, I’m perfectly comfortable in my leggings and T-shirt—I opted not to wear anything underneath in hopes he might notice.
It seemed to work during our photo shoot.
Logan must have had a similar idea, because he threw on a pair of sweatpants—and I noticed, I definitely noticed.
I’ve always been someone who believes in fate, and it seemed like the universe chose to force us together when my hotel reservation got screwed up.
Earlier, when he suggested we spend the night alone with stiff drinks and a gorgeous view, there was a flicker of something mischievous dancing in his eyes, enough to spark the hope of another kiss—one similar to our first, but this time I don’t want to stop.
I inhale, filling my lungs with fresh mountain air. Montana is stunning. “I can’t believe you don’t come out here more often.”
He shrugs. “Black Rabbit is there.”
“Is that what’s keeping you from leaving? I mean, who wouldn’t want to see this every day?”
“No.”
“You could probably open another shop if you wanted to . . .” What the fuck? Why would I even suggest that?
He shakes his head. “The way you feel about your dad’s house is the way I feel about his shop. It has to stay there. That’s where he started it, that’s where it’ll remain. It wouldn’t feel right, it’s a piece of history.”
Butterflies swarm my stomach. There’s something so sexy about the way he respects my father, even though I’m the only one left.
He’s protective and proud of what my dad built, and even though it’s been years since his death, every decision Logan’s made regarding the shop has been done with that consideration in mind.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to express how grateful I am to have someone like you taking the reins, helping it thrive while still preserving the reputation of my family’s name.”
He nods. “It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.” The atmosphere feels more charged as we lift our cocktails in sync, letting the smooth liquor slip down our throats concurrently.
I roll the glass between my palms. “Dad always was a good judge of character.”
He chuckles.
I smile. “What’s funny?”
Logan shakes his head. “Nothing. How are your nerves doing after that?” He nods to my drink.
“Much better, thank you.” I take another sip. “I confirmed with my model, my stencils are ready, but I probably won’t sleep a wink until it’s over . . . How’s your tattoo recovery going? Any regrets?”
He pushes up his sleeve to show me; it’s healing nicely. The more I look at it, the more I’ve come to love it. I can admire the beauty of it the way he does.
“Never.”
My attention returns to the mountains. I stand, step up to the edge of the balcony, and soak up the panorama. Logan’s gaze sears my skin; even in the crisp evening air, I feel him.
He shifts in my peripheral, punctuated by the scrape of his chair and his presence closing in; his broad chest is firm against my back.
He sets his glass on the drink rail before cupping the ledge and boxing me in; this is becoming a trend with him—he must enjoy seeing me trapped with nowhere to run.
I peer down at those damn hands of his. As if he notices me leering, he grips the rail tightly, making the veins swell under his inked skin—it’s practically lewd.
I’ve watched those skilled, calloused fingers create art on everything from flesh to canvas, but what else are they capable of? Are they powerful enough to steady my hips? Wrap around my throat?
“I like seeing you on my balcony.”
“Oh yeah?” I reply, turning my head and giving him a sideways glance. The quiet stretches between us, but it’s not awkward—it never has been. “Is it strange that this doesn’t feel new?”
“We both know this isn’t new.”
“Yeah.” I swallow down some of the fear in my confession.
Releasing the ledge, his hands settle on my hips, firm and deliberate.
He spins me to face him, then guides us back to his chair.
Standing in front of him, I brace a knee on the cushion between his thighs and set my drink on the small table wedged between the two chairs.
Logan’s palms move up to my waist and he guides me closer, tugging me into his warm lap.
I twist sideways, pressing my lips to his throat, before he dips his chin and takes my mouth in a deeper kiss. He tastes of warmth, the bourbon and citrus lingering on his tongue. For someone who seemingly hasn’t dated in years, he doesn’t seem to have lost any skill.
We snuggle close on the quaint balcony, my head relaxing on his shoulder while we enjoy the sunset. “It’s weird kissing you.”
He laughs. “It’s weird kissing me?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.
“That was a poor choice of words. I mean, it’s just .
. . surreal. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wondered what it would be like.
I imagined it all the time as a teenager,” I say, with a small chuckle.
“I always assumed it would be one of those things that only ever existed in my imagination.”
His hand travels up my spine, stopping at my neck. “Ah, I see.” He squeezes my nape three times. The familiarity is nice, like bringing silly little things from our friendship over into something more serious.
“Did you ever feel like that?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “There was never any doubt in my mind it would happen. But yeah, I thought about it a lot, definitely fantasized.”
Fantasized? “You fantasized about kissing me?”
I glance up at his jaw; he’s so damn attractive. “In my tamest daydreams, yes.”
That has me straightening in his lap. “And in your wildest ones?” I bounce my eyebrows.
He rolls his eyes, adjusting my position so we’re facing the mountains. He lazily massages behind my knees—his touch coiling the tension in my core. “I can’t tell you that,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.
“Come on,” I pout. “Say it.”
He lifts behind my thighs, tilting me back into his chest, then lowers my legs to settle on either side of his. With one arm wrapped around my middle, Logan swipes my glass off the table, bringing it to his lips.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
“What are you going to do about it?” he asks.
The sexual tension between us has been smoldering ever since he suggested a night in. It’s like he’s waiting for me to make the first move—which is what I thought I was doing when I skipped the bra.
My frustration wins over. “Do you feel nothing right now?”
I’m practically squirming in his lap, and he seems maddeningly unaffected. I want to steal his attention, just a little.
He clamps tighter around my waist, pulling me into his hips and letting me feel how hard he is. I suck in a breath, my pulse thrumming faster.
“You think I don’t notice?” he asks.
“Then why don’t you take control?”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, dark enough to raise goose bumps. “You’re the one writhing on my cock, sweetheart.” He sips from his drink like he has all the time in the world. “Tell me, which one of us seems more in control?”
If he wants to play games, so be it. Let’s see how far I can push him before that composed demeanor snaps.
I thread my fingers over his, prying his hold from around my middle, then guide his hand under my shirt and up to my breast. A rough groan is drawn from his throat as I arch into his touch and whimper softly.
“Fuck,” he says on a breath.
I jut out my chin with a satisfied smile, biting my bottom lip when he takes over. His fingers work absent-mindedly plucking my piercings; idly toying with my body with one hand while the other rests on the arm of the chair, clutching his old-fashioned. My slow exhale is the only sound between us.
“I can’t sleep with you tonight.” His voice is gruff.
I roll my eyes. “Then let’s not sleep . . . please, just act like you want me.” I’m about two rejections away from being offended.
“Act like I want you?”
I swallow. One rejection away.
His lips graze the shell of my ear. “I could spend every day fucking you for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Want is useless. The way I feel about you . . . It’s addiction . . . obsession . . .”
He takes the breath right out of my lungs. “I didn’t know you imagined us like that.”
“If I told you the things I imagined, you wouldn’t still be sitting in my lap.”
“Care to test that theory?”
“I’ve seen the boys you’ve dated. I’ve seen your mornings after a night with them. You’ve never looked exhausted, or weak, or quenched. You’ve never yelped when trying to sit. They underestimated you. Chaos can’t be tamed with a gentle hand.”
Oh my God. Anticipation and lust swirl in my chest and I roll my hips, loving the way his touch feels when it collides with a threat.
“That’s what I fantasize about. Taming you. Watching you bend to my will with a sweet moan on your lips.”
I’ve never experienced someone like Logan—never experienced anyone in the same tier as Logan. He’s a category all his own. How is this the same man who barely speaks to anyone, and suddenly, he comes out with that?
He proved his point, making all the other guys I’ve dated seem like immature fuckboys in comparison. I’ll never go back.
I angle my head, skimming my teeth along his neck and tracing the tip of my tongue over his stuttering pulse.
Releasing my piercing, he snakes his hand higher under my shirt until he wraps it around my throat.
He takes one final swig from his cocktail before setting it down, then slips his cold hand into my underwear.
“Logan . . .” There are so many words, but my brain can’t find any of them. He’s right, this is more than mere want. This is pure need.
I’m mumbling nonsense when his fingers spread into a V, caressing just outside of where I need it most.
“What do you want, Chaos?”
“More. Don’t stop.” My rushed words aren’t nearly as restrained as his, but it’s all I’m capable of at this moment.
“Who said we were stopping?” His thumb sweeps over my clit, and I shudder. So good.
“Feel that?” he whispers, lightly brushing his lips over my temple—a complete contradiction to the way he’s squeezing my neck, reminding me that my size and strength are nothing compared to his.
I’m at his mercy. Below, his fingers slip inside, making me gasp.
“I bet I could hold you like this all night, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you? ”
I nod, whimpering when I want to scream. He tightens the hand around my throat while he finger-fucks me with the other.
“So fucking wet . . . feel yourself.”
“Huh?”
He drags my trembling fingers to where his were a moment ago, sliding over my slick arousal. “Touch your pussy for me.” I melt into him as he guides me deeper. The way he takes over is so sexy.
“Feel how wet you are? Get it all for me.”
“Logan . . .” I want his hands back, his are so much bigger compared to mine.
He nudges me out of the way and rubs circles over my clit.
I clasp behind his neck, gripping his shirt and rolling my hips for more.
He plunges deeper; I should be embarrassed by my audible gulp, but I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck about anything outside this moment with him. I sigh his name as he teases and pets. “Aww, does that feel good?” His voice is patronizing. God, he’s conceited.
“Your cunt belongs to me.” His cock flexes. “Do you like the way I play with my girl?”
I nod, and a shiver shoots up my spine. Why is that so hot? The way he rules me so easily has me stunned into submission.
He chuckles in my ear. “Then you’re going to love the way I eat her . . .” He adds another finger, and I writhe in his arms. “Let me taste you.”
My chest heaves as I brush the backs of my still-wet knuckles over his lips, and he draws them into his mouth.
He releases my neck to rub my clit while his other hand keeps time stroking inside me.
His tongue is greedy, licking and sucking my fingers.
The competing sensations wash over me, and I arch my back. “L-Logan, I’m going to come!”
I feel a wicked smile form on his lips.
“No, I’m serious.” The orgasm building feels too big. I don’t know what’s going to happen. “We have to go inside, I’m going to come.”
Withdrawing from his mouth, I grasp the arms of the chair, trying to stave off the impending climax.
“What’s the matter? Worried someone might hear you? Why don’t you introduce us to the neighbors?”
“We can’t—” My hips jerk and the orgasm rolls over me. I cry out, my face flooding with heat in embarrassment, but I can’t stop it. He’s rendered me helpless.
He laughs, and claps a hand over my mouth, smothering my moan. “Uh-huh, that’s a good girl. Give it all to me. All of it.”
I groan, clenching harder at his praise.
“Fuck, you’re tight. Can’t wait to feel how selfish your pussy is when you’re taking every inch.” My sounds are muffled by his palm; the more he speaks, the longer my orgasm draws out. “Keep coming. Just a little longer . . . Don’t you dare stop until I say so. Not until you give me everything.”
As soon as the flutters ease and my muscles relax, I collapse against him with heaving breaths. That just happened.
He nuzzles my neck, pressing a kiss behind my ear. “You did so good for me so fucking good.”
I’m floating.
I nod, unable to speak. He fixes my underwear back in place, and I stand on shaky legs. Gravity is kicking my ass. He made good on that threat earlier. Reaching ahead of me to open the door, he chuckles. I stumble in with an embarrassed laugh.
“Let’s get you upstairs so I can bury my head between your thighs.”