I flipped on a lamp, and asked Jason to wait for me in the living room. I poured another glass of wine for each of us before I settled on the couch. We continued chatting for a little while, but when I saw him focusing in on my mouth as I spoke, I knew he intended to kiss me. I held my wine in front of me like a shield, hoping it would provide a buffer. But Jason knew what he was doing. He took the glass from my hands and set it on the coffee table. When he leaned in toward me I was too stunned to do anything but close my eyes and let him press his lips to mine. The kiss was nice, but I felt nothing, no spark, no passion like I did with Logan. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back, breaking the kiss.
“Ashlyn?” Logan’s groggy voice came from behind me.
Jason leapt to his feet at the sight of Logan, shirtless, tattooed and looking angry.
I jumped from the couch, and placed a palm on Logan’s chest as a silent apology, or just for the chance to touch him, I didn’t know. He nudged my hand out of the way, and stepped closer, still staring down Jason.
“Logan, stop.” I gripped his chest again, silently chastising his macho behavior. “Jason, I think you better go. Thanks for dinner.”
“Yeah,” he said without another glance in my direction and stormed from the apartment.
Once the door closed, I realized how utterly tense the situation felt. I was standing only inches from Logan, my palm still pressed to his chest, which was rapidly rising and falling with his breathing. Our eyes locked and I could read the hurt and anger in his look as clear as day. He looked down at my hand still pressed over his heart and let his eyes fall closed. When he reopened them a moment later, his anger was replaced with something else entirely…desire.
“Tell me why you’re angry,” I prodded gently.
“I can’t.” His words were clipped and tight.
I took a deep breath, and summoned my courage. We couldn’t keep side-stepping around each other in this tiny apartment. “Damn it, Logan. Stop holding back. I know you feel something for me.” I’d laid all my cards on the table, my heart thumping while I waited to hear his response.
“Ashlyn,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I can’t do this…”
“Why?” I challenged. I knew damn well the reasons why we shouldn’t be together, but I wanted to hear his version. Then I could poke holes in his argument. I was tired of my neat, orderly life, of never stepping out of line. Not to mention, the wine I’d had earlier had provided some much needed liquid courage.
He released a slow breath, stalling for more time. “I’ve tried to hold part of myself back from you, to not get emotionally attached in case I woke up one day and I remembered I had a wife and three kids at home.”
Ouch, that stung. I stared up at him wondering where we’d go from here. If I was the sane and logical person I’d always claimed to be, I’d walk away, end this charade now. But of course I couldn’t. I was in too deep for that.
Logan raked a hand through his hair. “And I thought that if I didn’t let you touch me, I wouldn’t be as involved, but I was wrong. Bringing you pleasure, seeing how responsive you are to me, watching you come.” He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “You’re beautiful, Ashlyn, and smart, and sweet. It’s impossible to be here with you and not develop feelings for you. But I won’t let myself hurt you.”
My chest felt tight, and I swallowed thickly. “I’d rather be hurt all at once for a specific reason, than be hurt slowly every day.”
“Don’t.” He frowned, but his eyes softened just enough for me to see that his resolve was falling away.
“You kicked my date out.” I pouted, even though I wasn’t the least bit sorry to see Jason go. That doesn’t mean that Logan shouldn’t feel bad.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m done fighting myself. And my willpower is shot after seeing you with that tool.” He shook his head trying to erase the image of me with Jason.
I let my hand trail down his side, tracing the script over his ribcage as I caressed him. He let out a heavy exhale. When I reached his hips, and the waistband of his shorts, he reached for my hand to stop me, his eyes pleading with mine in a silent battle. He wanted me to continue, but he thought the right thing to do was to stop. Screw right and wrong. I knew what I wanted, what I needed. Logan.
I shook my head slowly. “Let me.”
His hand fell away from mine, and relief crossed his face. I stroked his growing erection through the gym shorts and his lips parted to suck in a quick breath. Maybe this is what I needed to do with him all along: take control so that he didn’t have to stop to think about what we were doing. He gripped my wrist, holding my hand in place, not allowing me to move, but also not pushing me away.
It was official –I’d lost all cognitive thought, all sense of reason. There was only Logan. I wanted to please him, to taste every inch of his skin and hear his dirty endearments at the pleasure my mouth could provide. He turned on something strange and exciting inside me. Something dark that I knew I shouldn’t explore, yet felt compelled to discover. I’d played it safe for too damn long. I wanted to experience this man. Common sense be damned.
I began to ease the shorts down over his hips, but he lifted my chin and shook his head. He pressed a quick kiss to my mouth and whispered, “Not yet. I want to make you come first.”
Oh, not again. I was bound and determined to drive him insane with pleasure, and as difficult as his offer was to refuse, I shook my head. “Not this time. You first.”