Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“No sudden moves,” Logan gritted out as he stared at the biggest temptation of his life. “If that knee of yours moves in the wrong direction, my dick will be in extreme pain.”
“You’re aroused!”
“How incredibly astute of you to notice,” he praised.
“Your dick is huge!”
There was no controlling his burst of laughter. “Thank you. Appreciate the compliment.” He wet his lips. “Maybe I should say something like…all the better to fuck you with? Because I’m starting to get Little Red Riding Hood and the big, bad wolf vibes from this scene.”
“Logan!” Charlotte squirmed.
Luckily, her knee did not make contact with a crucially important part of his anatomy, but when she wiggled against him in quite that manner, oh, but it was pure hell. In a good way. Like a hellish temptation because she was soft and warm and she smelled good enough to eat.
I would love to eat her right up. Big, bad wolf style.
“I didn’t mean to do this!” She yanked herself back. Back to her side of the bed, unfortunately. When she made that big yank, she also took the comforter and the sheets with her.
Hello, naked dick.
He glanced at his dick. It was saluting her in fine form. Sighing, he reached for the covers she’d just hauled away.
Only…
Her eyes were on his dick. Her very, very wide eyes.
“You probably always wake up like that,” she mumbled as she shoved back her hair. “A guy thing, right? Nothing personal. This isn’t because of me. This is unrelated to me.”
Gently, he tugged the sheets from her fingers. Then he slapped a sheet over his dick. An immediate tent formed. “I can assure you—with all of my being—that this is a very, very personal situation. One entirely related to you.”
Her gaze flew up collided with his.
“I’m hard for you, Charlotte.” There. Blunt. “I was dreaming about you. I woke up to you on top of me. This isn’t random morning wood. Though, sure, it happens. Only not right now. This is me wanting to fuck you. Very badly.”
She jerked back again. Only this time, she fell over the edge of the bed.
Thunk.
“Charlotte!” He leapt out of the bed and raced around to her.
She bobbed up to her feet. “I’m fine!” Her cheeks flushed bright, vivid red. “Just slipped.”
“Because you were trying to get away from me.” He stalked to the dresser and hauled out a pair of his boxers. He jerked them on. Some coverage was better than nothing. “Message received.” She didn’t want—
“I was dreaming about you, too.” A low confession.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Say again?”
“In the dream…” A swallow. A quick flash of her little pink tongue over her lower lip. “I was pretty much doing exactly what I was doing in reality.” A grimace. “Crawling all over you.”
Well, well. He turned to fully face her. “Feel free to crawl over me anytime.”
“We can’t.”
They could. In so many ways.
“It’s pretend. The relationship or hookup or whatever story we are selling? Pretend. It doesn’t matter how great of a kisser you are.”
Excuse me?
“It won’t happen. We won’t happen.” With that, she spun and fled toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her.
Logan pursed his lips. Then he took his time stalking across the bedroom. He paused a beat when he reached the bathroom door and then lifted his hand. His knuckles rapped against the wood. “Charlotte.”
“Go away, please.”
“Will do. But, quick question first.”
The door creaked open. Maybe three inches. He saw one of her golden eyes staring back at him.
He smiled at her. “Hi, there.”
“I’m not a good morning person.”
His head cocked. “Pretty sure it’s around one in the afternoon.” He’d noticed the time when he glanced over at the phone on his bedside table.
Her lips pressed together. “Feels like morning.” A mutter. The door opened a bit wider. Both golden eyes were revealed.
“Sure. Feels like morning.” He wasn’t going to argue that point. He had more pressing concerns. “I’m trying to make sure I didn’t misunderstand,” he began. Then he just stopped. Because, why not? He took a minute to simply enjoy her pretty face.
“What did you misunderstand?”
“Did you say I was a good kisser or a great one? Inquiring minds want to know.”
Her eyes glittered. Narrowed. Then she shut the door.
He smiled. “I’ll take that to mean…great. Thanks, Charlotte. Very exciting to know that my kiss can completely rock your world.”
She would be professional. Even if it killed her. Or him.
That night, Charlotte sat in the back of the limo, the new dress a bit too clingy on her in certain places, but at least she’d been able to bring her favorite knife on this outing. The knife was currently strapped to her thigh.
Another chance for her to get eyes on her suspects. Another chance to capture the attention of the killer.
“Gonna tell me how the CIA came up with its suspect list?” Logan asked as he lounged beside her.
He wore a tux that seemed to have been made just for him.
Probably because it had been. No doubt, it was some mega expensive purchase.
The tux stretched across his shoulders, hugged his body in all the best ways, and he looked like some kind of debonair James Bond type as he relaxed near her.
Meanwhile she was really James Bond. Or, Charlotte Bond.
Whatever.
“The suspect list?” Logan prompted. “Pretty sure Jezebel gave you permission to bring me in the loop at our last meeting. But, alas, I still feel very unlooped even as we journey for another dangerous rendezvous with your potential killers.”
He was right. Jezebel had done that very thing. Or, before she’d left Logan’s suite, she’d said that Charlotte could use her discretion to update Logan. That she could tell him need-to-know intel.
“How did you pick the individuals that you thought just might turn out to be sadistic killers? I am dying to know. Also, should I be offended or honored that I didn’t make the list?”
She raised her brows. “Are you a sadistic killer?”
“Well, I am a killer. Morris Hart is in a Vegas morgue. Detective Reece was back, dodging my steps earlier today. She certainly seemed suspicious of me.”
Yes, the Vegas detective had made an additional appearance. Meredith Reece had found out about the high stakes game that Logan had hosted, and she’d wanted a list of all players in attendance.
Logan had refused to give her that list.
In return, the detective had promised to come back with a warrant.
Good luck with that. Logan’s response.
“I’m a killer,” Logan said again, “so I guess the question is just…am I sadistic or not? Do I get off on giving pain to others? Is torture my drug of choice?”
“It’s not.” She leaned forward and peered through the side window. The invitation to this event had been delivered in person, straight to Logan.
A private party was being held on the other side of Vegas. A party hosted by Ares.
“You don’t think I’m into torture? Aw, come now. Maybe I get off on a little BDSM.”
Her head turned toward him. “You didn’t torture Morris. You defended yourself.”
“I defended you.”
Her hand flattened against the top of her thigh.
The silk of her dress was incredibly soft against her palm.
He’d gotten the dress for her. Gotten it in a blink.
She had no idea where he’d purchased it, but the dress must have cost an incredible amount.
It felt expensive. “As far as you being into BDSM, I don’t know your kink of choice. That’s your business.”
“I could imagine handcuffing you,” he mused. “But I would never want to give you any pain. Anything that involves hurting you? Count me out. Honestly, I’d just be down for some basic fucking. Me, you. Me in you.”
“Logan, seriously, you’ve got to—”
“We’re going to be acting like lovers tonight, Charlotte. You have to get used to being with me. Sexual talk, sexual touches—they will happen. You’re good at your covers. You have to be good in order to succeed at the CIA.”
She was good. When the situation called for it, she could be a top-notch actress.
“I know you can fake wanting to fuck me. So do remember, that’s the game tonight.”
She didn’t have to fake it.
“Glad you didn’t bring the glasses,” he murmured. “That will make it easier when I don’t have to fight some jerk who tries to break them because he thinks you’re filming everything.”
She wasn’t wearing the glasses, and she wasn’t hooked up for filming or audio recording. The environment for the upcoming meeting was too unpredictable. The invitation had arrived at the last minute, and it had sent her scrambling.
Logan hadn’t wanted to accept.
She’d insisted. No way did she want to miss out on the opportunity for another up close look at her best suspects. “Why do you think Ares is inviting us to his penthouse tonight?”
“I think he wants his casino back. I suspect we’ll walk in and find ourselves at another game. Only tonight, Ares will believe that he has the control. He’ll be wrong, of course.”
“You’re not betting me.” Just so they were clear.
“I will not be betting you.” Definite.
“I know you didn’t want to come,” she said as her gaze once again darted to the window. It had started to rain, a steady rainfall that sent fat drops sliding down the pane of glass.
“Why would I want to come? He tried to kill me last night. Incidents like that tend to turn you off a person. Make you want to refuse their invitations.”
“You believe he’ll try again tonight?” Before Logan could answer, she shook her head. “I won’t let that happen.”
“I won’t, either. But I’m not particularly concerned he’ll try to kill me in front of a crowd. Seeing as how the others will be present, too, I figure he’s just setting the stage for a rematch.”
The others. After Logan had gotten his invitation, he’d called Sebastian Shay and Carmichael Lennon. Both men had also received invitations. Both men had confirmed they were attending the private party hosted by Ares.
After that, there had been no stopping Charlotte. So many suspects…all right there? Too tempting.
But also…
I feel like we are walking into a trap. “You have weapons on you, right?”
“We’re going to be searched. Your favorite knife will be taken from you.”