Chapter 25
Logan
We run through the rain to the front door, her hand clutched tight in mine. The guards nod as we pass, their eyes tracking our movements but saying nothing. They’ve seen enough over the years to know when to keep their mouths shut.
The mansion is quiet, and most of the lights are dimmed for the night. I lead her up the stairs, quickly and quietly. Right now, nothing matters except getting Nuala alone.
I push open the door to our room and lock it behind us. The moment the key turns in the lock, something shifts in the air between us. We’re safe. Protected. And completely alone.
She turns to face me, still clutching the USB in her fist. Her hair is damp from the rain, the black hoodie clinging to her curves. Her green eyes are wide, pupils dilated with adrenaline and something darker.
“Logan.” My name comes out breathless, uncertain.
She doesn’t back away as I move toward her, slow and deliberate. Her chin tilts up, defiant even now, even when she’s trembling from cold and fear and want.
I reach for the hem of the hoodie and pull it over her head, letting it drop to the floor.
I back her toward the bed, my hands spanning her waist through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.
I inch it up, slowly revealing the pale skin of her stomach.
She shivers under my touch, goosebumps rising wherever my fingers trail.
I pull the t-shirt over her head and toss it aside.
She stands before me in just her bra and leggings, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertip, feeling her pulse flutter under my touch and then cup her face, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones.
Her eyes never leave mine as I lower my mouth and kiss her, deep and possessive, pouring all my need into the contact.
My hands slide down to her waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of her leggings. I kneel and peel them down her legs slowly, following the path with my mouth. I help her out of her shoes and drag the leggings off before I rise back up, my hands mapping every inch of newly revealed skin.
She’s beautiful. Perfect. Mine.
I unclasp her bra and let it fall to the floor. My hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they peak. She gasps, arching into my touch.
Lifting her, I carry her to the bed, vowing that she’ll never want for anything again.
I lay her down gently, drinking in the sight of her spread across the bed. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, her green eyes dark with desire. She’s everything I never knew I needed.
I strip quickly, watching her eyes track over my chest, my arms, the tattoos that mark my skin.
Crawling onto the bed, I part her legs and duck my head, needing to taste her.
I flick my tongue across her clit, and she cries out, her hips bucking against my mouth.
I grip her thighs, holding her in place as I work her with my tongue.
She tastes like everything I’ve been craving without knowing it.
“Logan,” she gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Please.”
I slide two fingers inside her, feeling the slick heat sheath me to the knuckle.
Her wetness coats my hand as my mouth continues its relentless assault on her clit, my tongue circling the sensitive bud before drawing it between my lips.
She’s impossibly tight around me, her inner walls gripping my fingers as if desperate to pull me deeper.
Her body responds to every calculated touch—a gasp when I suck harder, a whimper when I slow down.
I curve my fingers upward, seeking and finding the spot that transforms her breathing into ragged pants.
The moment I stroke it firmly, her back arches clear off the bed, her spine a perfect bow of pleasure before she shatters.
She screams my name as she comes, her pussy clenching around my fingers.
I don’t stop working her through the aftershocks until she’s trembling and oversensitive.
I ease my fingers out and crawl up her body, caging her in with my arms. Her chest heaves. Her eyes are glassy and wild.
I push inside, slow to start, watching every flicker of her face. The stretch drags a curse from my mouth. I bury myself deep and hold there, forcing myself to breathe, to keep it together. Her hands grip my biceps, nails biting skin.
“Eyes on me,” I say.
Her gaze locks on mine, and I move. Long, deep strokes until she clenches around me, tight and hot.
“Mine,” I whisper against her lips. “Say it.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers, and that flips a switch. I brace and drive into her harder, finding the rhythm that makes her body quiver. She meets me, hips rolling up to take me deeper. The bed knocks the wall in a rough beat, I don’t bother to hide.
I slide a hand between us and press my thumb to her clit. She jolts, a sharp sound tearing out of her throat. I keep the same pressure, same circle, same push inside. Her body climbs again, the telltale tremor in her thighs.
“Give it to me,” I growl. “All of it.”
She breaks with a cry, clutching me, pulsing around me so tight it rips a grunt from my chest. I keep moving through it, chasing my own edge. Her nails score lines down my arms. I slam home and come hard, buried deep, every muscle locked until the rush drains and I can breathe.
For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing and the distant patter of rain against old stone outside.
I don’t pull out yet. I hold her face in my hand and watch the afterglow soften her eyes.
It hits me in the gut how fast I’d kill for that look.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb, memorizing the way she looks right now. Flushed, satisfied, completely mine.
I ease out of her and lie at her side. She curls into me, her head finding the hollow of my shoulder like it was made to fit there.
I listen to her breathing even out, feel the tension leave her body as she relaxes. But I’m not done with her yet. My fingers trace patterns on her bare skin. She shivers when I brush the sensitive spot just below her ear. “I’m not done claiming what’s mine.”
Her breath catches. I feel it against my skin, the way her body tenses with renewed interest despite the exhaustion radiating from her bones.
I roll her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. She doesn’t fight me. Instead, her eyes darken with want, pupils dilating until they swallow the green.
“Again?” she whispers.
“Again. And again. Until you understand that you belong to me now.” I lean down, my mouth hovering over hers. “Until you know that no one else will ever touch you. Until you’re so marked by me that even thinking about leaving becomes impossible.”
Her lips part on a soft gasp. “Logan—”
“Do you want to leave?” The question comes out harshly, but I need to know. Need to hear her say it.
“No.” The word is barely a breath, but it’s everything. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Good.” I release her wrists and slide my hands down her arms, feeling the goosebumps rise under my touch. “Because I wasn’t going to let you anyway.”
I take my time with her this time, tracing every curve, every sensitive spot that makes her arch and gasp. I kiss my way down her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. I take my time with each nipple, circling with my tongue until she’s writhing beneath me.
“Please,” she breathes, her hands fisting in the sheets.
I ignore her pleas, working my way lower. I want to memorize the taste of her skin, the way she responds to my touch. By the time I settle between her thighs again, she’s begging for me.
I slide my tongue through her folds, and she cries out, her hips bucking against my mouth. I grip her thighs harder, holding her in place as I devour her. She tastes like she’s mine.
“Logan, I can’t—” Her protest dies on a moan as I tug her clit between my teeth.
I work her with my tongue until she’s shaking. When she comes this time, it’s with broken sobs, her body convulsing as the orgasm tears through her.
I don’t wait. I crawl up her body and push inside her again, feeling how sensitive she is, how her body clenches around me, milking me.
“Too much,” she gasps, but her body still responds, her pussy gripping me like she never wants to let me go.
I lean down and capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her protests. “You can take it,” I murmur against her lips. “You can take everything I give you.”
I set a slower rhythm this time, rolling my hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back. Her nails dig into my back, leaving marks I’ll wear with pride.
“I need you to understand something,” I say, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “Every man who’s ever touched you—forget them. Every kiss, every caress—none of it matters now.”
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine. The vulnerability there nearly undoes me.
“There’s only me,” I continue, my voice rough with possession. “Only this. Only us.”
She nods, unable to form words. I can feel her climbing again, her pussy tightening around me like a vice. I slide my hand between us, finding her clit with my thumb.
“Come for me again, Nuala. Show me you’re mine.”
She shatters with a scream that tears through her throat, a primal sound I capture with my mouth, swallowing her pleasure as if it’s my salvation.
I follow her over the edge with a violence that borders on religious.
My entire body seizes, muscles locking as I empty myself into her depths, claiming her from the inside with such brutal intensity that for one blinding moment, I cease to exist as anything but this possession, this marking, this irrevocable binding of her body to mine.
“Do you understand now?” I ask, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead.
She nods, but I need to hear her say it.
“Tell me what you understand.”
“I’m yours.” The words come out soft but certain. “Completely yours.”
Something settles in my chest at her admission. The possessive beast that’s been clawing at my insides since the moment I met her finally quiets.
I roll to my side, pulling her with me so she’s pressed against my chest. Tomorrow we’ll deal with Lisa, with Connor, with the USB, and whatever hell is waiting for us.
But right now, there’s only this—her warm body against mine, the rain still pattering against the windows, and the knowledge that she’s mine and I’m never letting her go.