Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When the clock chimed half-past two o’clock, Logan cursed and threw the clammy sheet from his body. The fire he’d stoked before going to bed had long turned to glowing embers. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and ran his fingers through his hair.
Why did thoughts of Haven persist when all he wanted to do was sleep?
Restlessness could only lead to recklessness, and that would be disastrous, especially whenever she was near.
How could he sleep when all he could think about was a jade-eyed woman staring at him with lust in her eyes?
Dear God, it had taken every ounce of his strength to not devour her with his kiss.
Incapable of sitting still any longer, he stood and paced in the dark.
He was glad he slept naked because he was overheated by his imagination. Every inch of him dripped in sweat, and every nerve tingled with sensation.
His mind replayed the evening, from the moment she stepped to the staircase landing to when she sauntered from his study. He’d accused her of a crime she couldn’t have committed, and still reeled from her reaction. Her expression. Her words.
“I didn’t ask to turn to jelly whenever you look at me....”
A mutual affliction.
He groaned.
He couldn’t focus or control his mind and body with her near. He groaned again when his cock responded to the echo of her words inside his head. How could he help her find a way back to 2025 if he couldn’t keep his dick from growing hard every time he thought of her?
He slowed his pace to accommodate his aching balls, and tried to make sense of the mess he’d made in the study.
“I didn’t ask you to grind me under your boot like an insignificant bug....”
His heart stuttered. Was that true?
“I didn’t ask for your anger, your suspicions, or your looks of pity when I say or do something wrong…”
Could he do nothing right? Had he lost all sense of morality, of chivalry, of common human decency?
“...and most of all I didn’t ask for you to hate me.”
He’d caused that anguish in her voice.
“What have I done?” he choked out, his own voice heavy with the weight of guilt and self-disgust.
He found and donned his trousers in record time.
He didn’t understand the urgency, but he had to tell her he didn’t hate her.
An unfathomable desperation clawed at him, and he couldn’t stop to wonder why.
“Damn it.”
Haven punched her pillow for the fiftieth time, and clinched her teeth around the urge to scream into it.
Again.
Why, when her whole world was shattering into jagged shards, did her long-dead desires finally rise from the grave?
She’d been somewhat happy these last five years after her separation from Elgin.
She didn’t see the need to lust after men, especially when she had such bad luck with her first choice.
For the first two months after he’d left, she had lain awake at night wondering if he’d come back.
She was his wife after all. She was the chaste, faithful spouse who’d let her husband do as he pleased in the bedroom.
She’d never once asked for anything. For better or worse, right?
When the bookie’s bruisers showed up at her door, she’d finally realized he wasn’t coming back, and she was stuck with a marriage’s worth of pent-up sexual frustrations.
So, she buried her desires beneath her no-nonsense attitude and her sensual performances, and lived a celibate life without regret.
Until now.
Why did life have to be so complicated? Why did sex have to be so complicated? She’d had one lover, but even she understood that ‘insert tab B into slot A’ wasn’t a complex thing. Sex was sex, lust was lust, and men were men, right? So why was Logan the only man who fulfilled her every fantasy?
“Ugh!”
Untying the twisted sheets from around her legs, she walked to the window overlooking the vast, dark expanses of the manor lawns.
She’d give anything to be able to hit the rewind button and go back the way she came, to a life that had only just begun.
She wiped at her face, fighting back the burning tears.
Again, her pride—and maybe her good looks—was all she had left.
A click brought her frustrated mind back to the moment.
Someone was coming into her room? At this hour?
Anticipation and fear infused her, and she stood still, unable to turn around.
Her vulnerability disgusted her.
The intruder could kill her where she stood, and she’d never see their face.
His presence immediately filled her with relief, but anxiety and desire roared up within her almost as quickly. He couldn’t have been far into her room, but she sensed him, his heat, his intensity, his desire.
When his hot breath blew along the back of her sensitive neck every nerve ending jumped.
She smelled him: man, sensuality, and lustful purpose.
He smelled like sex should feel.
His hands slid over the base of her neck, and she gasped.
“What you said earlier in the study...I don’t hate you.”
No, not hate.
What was it? Lust. Desire. Want.
All excellent candidates.
It was intense and deep, and capable of taking complete control when she was near. Hell, his being there, in her room, in the dark of night, was evidence of his inability to think clearly or act logically.
He’d left his room to make his way to hers, but had no idea what to say. An invisible push compelled him to get to her and convince her he didn’t hate her.
She trembled beneath his hands, and he couldn’t stop a smile of pure male pride.
He slid his index finger over the base of her neck.
She had such perfect skin.
He grit his teeth against the unbearable desire to throw her on the bed, slowly remove her simple shift, and touch every inch of her beautiful, delectable body.
To touch her, to taste her.
To run his lips along the smooth flesh of her inner thighs, to run his tongue over each pert nipple, and draw them into his hot, hungry mouth for a tight, wet suckle.
To kiss her supple mouth, grinding each plump lip against his, his tongue eager for entry into the sweet heaven. Once her lips were kiss swollen, he’d direct his attention to lips just as plump and hungry for his kiss, but much wetter, and much hotter.
He nearly came in his trousers thinking of it.
What would happen if she allowed him to do all he’d dreamed?
Ever since she’d danced for him in his dreams, every movement, breath, and sigh brought him back to that night. That dream. His fantasy. Would they even compare to the real pleasures she could provide?
Her voice, soft and husky, broke through his lust-induced haze.
“You came into my room to tell me you don’t hate me? Couldn’t you have waited until morning when I’m dressed?”
Her voice broke and her body quivered, responding to his touch.
He smiled a slow, wicked smile.
Although she couldn’t see him in the dark of her room, she must have felt the change in him, his shift from intruder to seducer.
“If I had waited until morning, I wouldn’t have found you thus—standing under the moonlight, tantalizingly naked beneath a transparent night dress, and apparently quite greedy for my touch.”
She trembled.
He couldn’t help it, he thrust forward, his erection pressing into the small of her back.
He slid his lips against the base of her neck, nibbling the delicious, heated skin there.
God, she tasted like sweet, salty desire.
He would forever hunger for her.
She groaned, and his eyes rolled back into his head at the pure bliss of her pleasure. If a kiss on her neck made her groan with such passion, what would a kiss on her breasts sound like? A kiss on her rib cage? A kiss on her clit?
“You make it-it sound like I wa...was...waiting fo...for you.”
His smile widened at her stuttered response. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait to touch and taste as he wanted.
“Weren’t you?” His lust heavy growl raised tiny bumps along her skin.
He groaned into her ear.
He wanted her to hear his torment.
She shook her head.
“Oh, I do believe you were waiting for me. You see, ever since your arrival, you’ve challenged me, made me burn with each heated look, each hot word, and each and every fiery touch.
You’ve scorched me, Haven. Now I’m going to stroke the blaze inside you into a conflagration so hot it will level the manor. ”