Belong to Me

His exotic friend held up a hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it. We’ll talk when you’re out of the shower.”



“Fucker,” Logan muttered, then hurried toward the door.



No way was she letting him leave her like this.



Fuming and aching all over, Tara charged after him and grabbed his granite arm. “What the hell kind of power trip is this?”



He raised an ominous brow at her. “I explained.”



“I heard a lot of blah, blah, blah. Haven’t you taken enough from me today? I lost my fiancé. God knows, you quickly stripped me of dignity. Because of you, I have no privacy. You don’t allow me modesty. You shove everything on me. This is just about you having your sick pleasure, bending me—”



“Ohhh.” Xander shook his head at her. “I’d run if I were you.”



Tara stood her ground, tightening her grip on Logan’s biceps. “I’m not going anywhere until he explains what the fuck he’s trying to pull.”



“I explained.” Logan enunciated each syllable with quiet bite. “You heard me. But that’s not what you’re pissed about. You’re angry because I’m withholding this.”



Before Tara could even blink, Logan scooped her up in his arms and stalked toward the bed, jaw clenched. Every muscle in his body felt tense. She had a feeling that she’d awakened the sleeping beast.



Her heart seized up in her chest. “Put me down!”



“You don’t give the orders, Cherry.” With that reminder, Logan plopped down on the bed, then turned her to face him, shoving her legs on either side of her hips. “I do. If you want this, scoot in.”



She had no idea what he was up to, but the opportunity to be closer to him was a lure she knew she should resist, but couldn’t. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she moved her hips closer until her wet folds were nestled against the hard ridge of his cock.



“Wrap your arms around my neck.”



Breath coming in pants, she slid her palms over his hard shoulders, then curled her arms around his nape. Their faces were inches apart, and the heat blaring from his eyes blasted her with something that made her stomach tighten, her pussy clench.



“What’s you’re safe word?” he barked.



“R-Romeo.”



“Yes. Either use it or rub that pretty pussy over my cock until you come.”



Oh God, his actions became crystal clear in a second. He was forcing her to either deny that she wanted him or to use him to pleasure herself. No matter what she did, she was going to lose.



God damn it, wasn’t that a metaphor for her whole relationship with Logan?



“Bastard,” she hissed.



“Choose, Cherry. You’ve got three seconds.”



Fury and desire had whipped her into a froth. She wanted him so badly that she hated him. But he’d always been like gravity for her; the pull to him was undeniable and inevitable.



Tara slanted her mouth over his and took his lips in a fierce kiss, rocking her aching clit directly over the thick stalk of his cock. She gasped into his mouth as need streamed through her body, lacing her veins. Logan met her tongue with his, fisting one hand in her hair.



She writhed like a wild thing, panting, straining, needing everything he could give her. And it wasn’t enough yet. Mewling, she clawed at his back, desperate for the orgasm beckoning with frightening intensity just out of reach.



Suddenly, he ripped away from her kiss. “You want to come?”



God, she could barely focus through her haze of need. But those blue eyes were an inescapable lure; she couldn’t look away from the hot demand slowly burning her alive.



“Yes,” she gasped. “Please, give it to me.”



“No. Take it.” His eyes burned into her. “Take it now.”



As if his words had been precisely what she needed, the wall of sensation flattened her. She screamed, then she couldn’t breathe at all, just feel herself open wide to the pleasure pouring in.



And her soul pouring out.



As the deep pulses of her womb subsided, Tara stilled, sucked in a deep breath. Then she looked at Logan, as still as a statue, his face like a time bomb with a short fuse.



“Logan?”



“Did I take anything from you? Force anything on you?”



His questions made her feel small—and forced her to acknowledge the truth. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back. “No.”



“Then I’ll see you at oh six hundred.” Logan pressed a hard, fast kiss to her lips, then set her down on the silk sheet beside him. She barely had time to notice the wet spot she’d left on the front of his leather pants before he stormed across the room, slamming the door behind him.



Tara watched Logan go, feeling as if she was watching a part of her walk away. He was angry; it felt painful. The tears returned. What the hell had happened? One minute she’d been furious with him. Then he’d forced her to admit her need, take what she craved—and torn her wide open again.



Xander laughed, a bemused expression lighting his face.



Tara belted the robe more tightly around her waist. “What’s so funny, damn it?”



“I’ve never seen him so off balance. That orgasm was for you, you know. The normal Logan would have made a sub suffer to teach her a valuable lesson.” He turned to her, cocking his head. “But he let you come because he couldn’t stand to leave you hurting. God, you’re . . . perfect for him. I’m laughing because he’s going to the shower to think about you while he masturbates, as usual. But I don’t think that ritual is going to stand much longer.”



So much of Xander’s speech startled Tara that she almost didn’t know where to start. “You think that Logan thinks about me when he masturbates?”



“I know he does. Every day I’ve ever spent with him for the last five years.”



“For the last—” Impossible.



She opened her mouth to sputter . . . she wasn’t exactly sure what. Then she closed it. But the myriad of questions kept coming at her. “How would you know that he thinks about me?”



“He admitted it after a few too many shots of tequila. We’ve talked about it. I’ve even had the misfortune to walk into the bathroom and see it.” Xander sent her a quizzical expression. “Have you seen his tattoos?”



“I—I saw the Japanese on his ribs.”



“And you can’t read it,” Xander stated, quirking a dark brow.



“He told me it says ‘never quit.’”



“And he’s a fucking liar. Have you gotten a close look at him without his leathers?”



What was Xander trying to tell her? “No. He hasn’t taken them off.”



“Make him. I’ll tell you something straight up: Logan hasn’t had sex with a woman as long as I’ve known him.”



Tara’s jaw dropped. “No way. He spends a lot of time here and—”



“When he’s on leave, yeah. He spanks the subs, works them up, makes them come. He never kisses them. And he definitely never fucks them. When he wants that done, he calls me.”



Shock pinged through Tara’s system. “Bullshit.”



“Ask anyone here at Dominion.” Xander sidled closer, dropped his voice. “Look, he’s my friend, and I’ve been worried as hell about him for a long time. His behavior isn’t normal. For a Dom, he’s an awful lot like a monk.”



It still wasn’t adding up for her. She understood Xander’s implication that Logan was hung up on her, but how was that possible? Logan had broken it off with her. Why would he be hung up on a relationship he’d ended so brutally? “I don’t understand. Why tell me this?”



He shook his head. “I’ve pushed the door open a bit. Now you have to choose to walk through it. Or not.”



After everything that had happened today, she couldn’t take more mind games. “Logan left me. He crushed me and walked away without a backward glance when we were sophomores in high school. I make him feel guilty, but he doesn’t actually care.”



Xander shook his head. “For him, the sun rises and sets on you. If you decide to seek the truth, once you see and understand all of his tattoos, maybe you’ll believe me.”



Chapter Eight



Nearby motel—Friday night



HAIR wet from her recent shower, Tara combed her tresses with one hand and rifled through her suitcase absently with the other. She grabbed a cotton floral nightie from inside, stared at the duffel bag by her feet, then frowned. In the year she’d been living with Brad, this was all she had come away with? She’d walked in with the clothes on her back and walked out with the same. Everything in the house had been his when they’d moved in together. She’d never bought a stick of furniture with him. Hell, not even a toaster.



What did that say about their relationship? Had she unconsciously known that it wouldn’t last?



Tara swallowed as she flipped the lid of the suitcase closed and shoved on her pajamas. She poured more wine into one of the hotel’s cheap plastic cups and grimaced. By far, she preferred tequila for a good, rousing drunk, but being in a part of town that only allowed beer and wine sales, she’d had to make do. After half the bottle, however, she couldn’t say that she felt any better.



Not that she felt bad exactly, just somewhat numb. And that was the problem. On a day she’d come twice for a man she had refused to miss in years and the case she worked on being complicated by a dead body, not to mention the fact that she’d lost her fiancé, she should feel something. But Tara wondered now if she’d been truly feeling for years.



Everything came back to Logan. Somehow, over the miles and years, he’d continued his hold on her without a single touch. Now suddenly, he was back in her life. In fact, he was the center of her world this week. Could she make it to the next without losing her heart again?



She wanted to talk to Logan, ached to ask him questions. But that wasn’t smart. What if the truth made her want him more? If she embraced him now, how broken would she be if he walked away again? After everything he’d taken from her today, and, damn him, given her, she wasn’t ready for any sort of soul baring. Tears lurked under the surface of her haze; she could feel them. Just like her adolescent self, she couldn’t seem to hold anything back from him. Logan was her downfall, probably always would be.



Tara downed the rest of the wine in her cup. Damn, she wished this stuff would work faster.



A boom blasted through her room, startling her. Someone was pounding on her door.



No one knew she was here, not even Adam. Her stepfather would not be pleased with today’s developments. He thought Brad was perfect, and Logan was Satan’s spawn, so she’d bailed on dinner with her stepfather tonight, not having the energy to explain herself and defend her actions. So who the hell wanted in her room at nearly ten p.m.?



She tiptoed to the door and peeked out the hole. Logan, wearing all black and carrying a grocery sack packed full. For a moment, she debated not opening the door, but he already knew she was inside. He wasn’t going to go away.



With a sigh, Tara pulled the door open, then leaned against it. “Why are you here?”



“I’m a Dom; it’s my job to take care of you.”



That was the last damn thing she wanted to hear. “Only when we’re working. Otherwise, I can take care of myself. You’ve already been up in my face for most of the day. I don’t need you here tonight, too, ordering me around and—”



“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Cherry.” He gripped the bag tighter. “I just came to bring you a few things, see what else you needed.”



Without another word, he held out the bag to her. Curiosity got the better of her, and she grabbed it. A peek inside revealed some bottled water, toothbrush and toothpaste, dental floss, shampoo, and a comb.



She looked at him with a questioning gaze, and he shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you’d been able to get anything from Brad’s house, and I didn’t like the thought of you shopping at night by yourself, especially around here.”



Against her better judgment she was touched. “I managed to get all my things from his house, but thank you. Come in.”



As she stepped back, he edged inside, looking around at the rundown dump. He scowled. “This is . . . No, Cherry, come stay with me. I promise, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you—”



“Will be fine.” Tara marveled that he seemed genuinely concerned as she set the grocery bag on a nearby Formica table. “I know it’s not the Ritz, but Misty said the place was reputable enough. I’ve got lots of locks on the doors and bolts on the windows. No one is getting in here to hurt me.”



Logan blew out a deep breath, clearly pensive. “This is another reason I wish I was your Dom. I could just tell you to come with me so I could sleep beside your warm body peacefully, knowing that you’re safe.”



Another reason? “I am an FBI agent, you know.”