Logan’s gaze was dark and glittering as it met hers. “I’d apologize for that, but it wouldn’t be genuine,” he told her.
She swallowed and shifted to the side as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Her intense attraction to him had robbed her of the power of speech. She was afraid that if she attempted conversation it would emerge as gibberish.
“You go first,” he murmured, his lips so close to her ear that she felt his warm breath fanning her bare neck.
Jumping like a startled deer, she hurried inside, feeling every bit like Logan was the hunter and she the hunted. How could she resist him if he chose to turn on the charm? And did she really want to resist him?
Forcing her mind to think of something else, anything else, she stopped at the foot of the bed and glanced around the room. The bed, though a queen, dominated much of the space. Its headboard and footboard were wrought iron fashioned in fancy scrollwork. The floor was hardwood covered with a red carpet. A black hand-painted dresser dominated the far wall, set beneath an old beveled-glass mirror. A small flat screen sat in a corner on an antique table, and fashion prints from the nineteenth century dotted the walls. In all, it presented quite a charming picture.
“What do you think of it?” Logan asked, so close behind her again she actually jumped.
“It’s lovely,” she said, aware she sounded breathless and extremely aware that her heart had begun pounding like a hammer in her chest. Logan was within arm’s reach, looking down at her with an open expression that suddenly made the room feel as if it were the size of a dollhouse. He wanted her. It was written all over his gorgeous face.
Oh God, they’d been in the hotel room alone for less than forty-five seconds and already all she wanted to do was get him into bed.Focus, she reminded herself. She had to get away from him before she did something stupid.
“I’m going to check out the bathroom,” she said suddenly, seizing any excuse. She ducked away from him and fled into the nearby room, which was actually a sight to behold in itself. A white claw-foot tub stood in its center, accompanied by an antique wicker chair. Even the lighting fixtures and the sink looked to be original to the hotel’s beginnings.
She peered out a small window that graced the far wall and mentally counted to ten, willing her heart to slow down and her libido to get a grip on itself. When she finally felt more in control, she turned to leave the bathroom and froze. Logan stood at the threshold, leaning negligently against the doorjamb, watching her as if he was contemplating which article of clothing he wanted to peel off her body first.
Her mouth went dry. “Did you see the bathtub?” she asked lamely, her voice weak with sudden desire.
Logan cocked his head, considering her for a moment. “Claire, I don’t give a shit about the tub.”
“You don’t?”
He stalked toward her then, and she emitted an embarrassing squeak. He stopped just before her, so close her breasts almost brushed against his chest. “No. I don’t.”
“Well.” Her heart kicked into a steady drumming against her chest once more. “Did you want to look at the view out the window? There’s a charming little house across the street with a beautiful garden and a—”
“Claire.” Logan nearly undid her by running his fingertips along the length of her jaw. “I don’t give a shit about the view either.”
“No?” She flattened herself against the wall at her back. Resistance was becoming an increasingly remote possibility with every passing second.
Logan shook his head, a sensual smile curving his sulky mouth. “No.” He ran his fingers down her neck, dragging them in a lingering caress across her collarbone. His fingertip dipped into the hollow at the base of her neck where her pulse beat a frantic tattoo against her skin. “But I am beginning to rethink some things.”
“Really.” Claire ran her tongue over her dry lips, trying not to stare at his mouth and want it on hers but failing miserably. “What things?”
“I don’t want a business relationship with you.” His voice was low, deep, almost guttural. “I want you in my bed.”
The simplicity of that statement and the raw truth in it made her knees go weak. Any last hopes of resisting him died a hasty death. She grabbed a fistful of his white shirt and tugged him to her, closing those final inches between them. His mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding. She opened instantly, allowing his tongue to plunge inside.
Her hands slid into his thick, luxurious hair, its texture against her fingers every bit as arousing as his tongue inside her mouth. With Logan, her every sense came alive. The heady masculine scent of him turned her on. His taste filled her mouth. The feel of him branded her fingertips. She opened her eyes to find his gaze boring into hers, trapping her, making her know just how inevitable this had been for them. Her ears were filled with her heart’s frantic beats, of the growl he released deep inside his throat.
His hands found the hem of her tank top and dragged it up over her sensitized flesh. In an instant, it was over her head and tossed somewhere in the vicinity of the bathtub. Claire knew a brief moment of insecurity when Logan broke their kiss to look down at her overly ripe breasts and swollen belly. How could he find her attractive like this? She attempted to cover herself with her hands.
“No.” Logan took her hands in his and pulled them to her sides. “Let me look at you.”
“I’m pregnant, Logan,” she whispered, hating the fear of rejection bubbling up inside her.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me.”
Claire searched his gaze for a sign that he was lying, but only honesty and passion glimmered back at her. “Logan.” She felt tears stinging her eyes for no reason.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, more so than she’d ever heard it. He kissed her lips, a feather-light caress. “I hate to see you cry.”
She kissed him back, unable to get enough of him. “It’s just you, this, us…” Her words trailed off against his knowing mouth.
“I know.” He kissed her again. “It’s good between us. It always has been.”
