Chapter 3

Logan

I guided Katie down the gravel path toward the bungalow, burning for her and for closure on the business I’d come here for. The island was my neutral zone where old debts could be settled.

What good was this place with this level of distraction around? I couldn’t turn back now, fuck, a part of me wanted nothing more than to keep this woman safe. She needed me, she wanted to stay the night, even if it was in another room.

“It’s beautiful here,” Katie said and came to a halt. She stared out at the ocean, the moon gibbous above it and clouds scudding across the inky sky. “’Breathtaking’ is probably a better word for it.”

“You’re the writer,” I replied.

“Do you come here often? To the island, I mean?”

“Not often, no. Only when it’s absolutely necessary,” I said and moved closer to her side. There were bushes along the edges of the pathway, and palm trees further along. Anyone could be watching. “We should get inside.”

“Why?” She looked up at me. “I highly doubt those dudes from the bar followed us all the way out here.”

I stalled. I wasn’t accustomed to questions. I’d been in business so long, as an owner and as a creator, that I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone question my motives. My last girlfriend? Fuck, that’d been years ago, and she’d been more interested in my bank balance than what I had to say. That hadn’t been a heartbreak, not compared to the very first love and the last.

“Mr. Wright?”

“Logan,” I said, and guided her down the path again, past the brush and the gloom punctuated by little lights along the path. The shape of my bungalow came into view—a low slung building with lights on behind the blinds against the sliding glass door—and my breathing slowed.

She’d be safe here. She’d be fine. Why do you care? This was different. It was instinctual, as if she was constantly under threat even though it was me who was knee deep in shit.

I unlocked the door, pushed it open up for her, and then followed her inside.

Katie stopped in her tracks, eyes round as saucers. “Well,” she said, “this is… er… nice.”

“I should hope it’s ‘er… nice.’ It cost enough,” I replied, and smiled at her. I locked the door, shut the blinds again, and then walked past the duck’s-egg-blue sofa, across the polished wood flooring to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“If you promise not to spike it,” she replied, then shook her head, her strawberry blonde locks shaking back and forth and a sheepish grin stretching across her lips. “Sorry, that was in poor taste.”

“Not for me. It wasn’t my drink that was spiked,” I said. “Water? Coffee?”

“Just a water will be fine, thank you.” She swayed across the floor and rested her hip against the side of the sofa, resting her palm on it. “This place must have an awesome view during the day. Is there a reason you keep the blinds closed?”

“It’s not the day,” I said and left it at that. She didn’t need to know that it was my little hideout, and that flying incognito was second nature to me. It would likely make her suspicious and I didn’t want that because… well, shit, because she was a beautiful woman, the first in a long time who’d peaked my interest.

“Right.” She drew the word out, her fingers trailing to the top of her dress. She gave it a tug, lifting it higher and concealing more of her cleavage, even as her flesh jiggled from the movement.

I stood with my hand on the bar fridge’s door, my head throbbing. Not the one held up by my neck, either. This was big, big fucking trouble.

“Um,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you think I could get that water now? Unless… you don’t want me to stay here? I’m fine with going back to the Fuego. I can call a cab from the front desk or—”

“No, I don’t want you to leave. I was just distracted by you.” God knows why I’d told her that. Possibly because I had a shitty habit of telling everyone the truth no matter the consequences. It was the no-bullshit part of me. And it made hiding things all the more difficult.

“What?” Katie blinked those sapphire gems my way.

“Distracted by you,” I repeated, and finally tugged the water bottle out of the fridge. I kicked the door shut and strode up to her, halting a foot away and held the water out. “Here.”

“Thank you,” she said and took it from me. Our fingertips brushed and she inhaled sharply, her chest swelling outward, presenting those tits again. They strained against the fabric of that cocktail dress and my dick throbbed and rolled over.

Not good. Not yours. Not yet, at least.

She unscrewed the cap of the bottle and drank some of it. This time, she didn’t spill any, and thank god for that. If she had, I’d have been tempted to lick the water from her neck, suckle her flesh and— I cut the thoughts off sharply. “You’ll want to see your room,” I said.

Katie finished her torturously long drink and nodded. “That would be great, thank you. Seriously, this is so generous of you. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of bum. I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow, all right?”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, and turned before she caught a glimpse of my dick, straining at my suit pants. I’d have to get rid of this before the end of the night. It would call for a trip to the bathroom.

I led Katie down the hall, past my room, the bathroom, and to the second bedroom, technically the first. I’d taken the smaller room upon my arrival, just because it was cozier and had fewer windows. Fewer chances to be spied on.

“Here it is,” I said, and focused on my breathing. No dice. My cock was still hard as a fucking rock for this woman. I opened the door, kept my back to her, and caught a view of the bed, its sheets pristine and white, the pillows puffy on the four poster.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “Thank you, Logan. I appreciate it.”

I envisioned her thanking me for an orgasm instead of the room. Stop it, for fuck’s sake. “It’s no trouble. The bathroom’s right next door. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Katie replied, right behind me. Her presence was agony. “I’m just going to flop into bed and sleep. I’ll see you in the morning and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

I didn’t say a word but stepped aside.

She brushed past me and trailed that sweet scent of perfume—tropical, coconutty—and entered the room. Katie turned and smiled at me. Thankfully, her gaze didn’t dip lower than my chin. I didn’t want to weird her out. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight, Jinx,” I replied.

She flushed bright red, pleasure for sure, then shut the door.

I stood there a minute longer, breathing hard, and gripped the front of my pants, the hard, thick rod underneath. Fuck. Fucking holy crap. What the hell? I’d never had a reaction like this to anyone.

It had to be the sass. The back and forth between us. And that dress. Those heels. Hot damn.

Either way, I needed to take a shower and cool down before I popped a damn gasket. Whacking off down the hall from her appealed to me. But it was also the move of a fucking creeper, and I wasn’t that.

I had some measure of self-control.

I strode down the hall to the bathroom, opened the door, and stepped inside—my brain numb, my muscles tensed to steel. I growled low in my throat.

Katie stood in the center of the bathroom, next to the glass door of the massive shower. Behind her, another entryway led into the guestroom. Christ, I’d totally forgotten that her room adjoined to it.

I couldn’t form words. I traced the lines of her supple body.

Pale flesh, pink, taut nipples, perky tits. She was toned as if she worked out, a cinched waist, curved at the hips, strong thigh muscles, and there was a small neat thatch of strawberry blonde pubic hair between her legs—a landing strip.

Katie’s gaze was latched onto mine. Her jaw had dropped, but she didn’t scream, didn’t move. Slowly, her eyes shifted downward. She spotted my dick, still gripped in my right hand, pressing against the fabric of my pants.

She let out a tight, soft moan.