Bitterness consumed her. As much as she resented him, it still hurt so fucking bad to know she wasn’t enough. She wanted him to feel that pain.
Misery loves company.
She grabbed Sam by the wrist, dragging him over to the hall, then grabbed Logan with her other hand.
“I’m ready,” she said, towing them both along.
CHAPTER 29
Sam hadn’t expectedOphelia’s eagerness, though even he could see it wasn’t coming from a place of sexual arousal. Her gray eyes were desolate as she dragged the men into the bedroom.
She released her grip on Sam and pushed Logan into the rose-petal-covered chair in the corner, wearing an insincere smile that only seemed to worry the man further.
He cleared his throat, shifting in the seat, grabbing a petal from under himself and staring at it incredulously.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked hoarsely, looking up at her.
“This is what you wanted,” she bit out, her expression wild. “I’m giving you what you wanted, what you were willing to go nuclear on our relationship over, and now you’re—what? Backing out?”
He blinked, reeling back in the seat at her ferocity. “You’re just not acting like yourself.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she braced her hands on either arm of his chair, leaning in close. “Is this what you want or not?”
His eyes darted from her to Sam and back again as his throat worked.
“Yes or no?” she snapped.
“Yes,” he said so softly that it was a wonder that Ophelia heard it, even as close as she was.
“Well, then,” she said, straightening. “Enjoy the show.”
She turned on Sam, her mouth set in a line of grim determination—not exactly the expression he’d like to see on her face when he finally fucked her, but he would work with it.
“Ophelia,” he murmured, smoothing his hands up her arms.
She shrugged off his touch, sliding her hands beneath his jacket to roughly shove it off his shoulders. His shirt was next, half the buttons popping off and scattering over the floor as she wrestled impatiently with it. He glanced curiously at Logan, who sat ramrod straight in the chair, looking as though he was watching a car crash unfold.
Sam shrugged out of his mangled shirt, holding his hands out of the way as she wrestled with the fly of his pants. Then they were gone, and he was naked before her.
She made short work of her clothes, batting away his hands when he tried to help. It was clear she had no patience for the kind of slow, sensual experience he would have liked to give her.
This wasn’t going the way he’d anticipated. He’d thought she’d be shy and blushing the whole time, burying her face in his shoulder as he fucked her and taunted her worthless fiancé. It wasn’t an unwelcome development, however. He was made for her. However she came to him and however she wanted to use him, he’d go along with pleasure.
When she was naked, she shoved him down on the edge of the bed—the side, rather than the end, so Logan would be able to see her face while they fucked. Her stormy expression was pure vengeance as she knelt between his thighs on the hard concrete floor.
She’d barely pumped him twice before he was hard enough to cut a diamond. He leaned back on his arms, spreading his knees wide to give her room to work.
She looked over at Logan as she stroked him. “Tell me you love me.”
He made a strangled sound, then cleared his throat. “What?”
“Say it, Logan.”
“I love you,” he choked out, sinking back into his seat as though she was about to cross the room and strike him.
“Again, and say my name.”
“I love you, Ophelia.” He looked vaguely gray now, his knuckles white around the arms of his chair.
