Belong to Me

The words took her breath away, made her heart actually flutter. Tara examined her reaction; it made no sense. She already knew that Logan hadn’t had intercourse with anyone else in five years, but she sensed that he wasn’t talking about sex now. He was talking about sharing his space. Sharing himself.



She was terribly touched. “Why would you want that?”



“You don’t ask the complicated questions, do you?” He held out his hand. “Come with me, and I’ll try to explain.”



Tara hesitated. Somehow, the idea of walking across his threshold, into the bedroom he’d never shared with a woman, felt symbolic, like taking the next step. She shoved the feeling aside, certain she was reading too much into it—until he stood there looking so uncertain.



And suddenly, she realized the truth. “You’ve been lonely?”



“For twelve fucking years without you, yes.” He reached for her, anchoring his hand around her nape. “I’ve never wanted anyone else in my most personal space. I want you here. I want you now.”



His pain compelled her to soothe it. No way she could say no. She put aside everything that had happened tonight, the danger and uncertainty of the future, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.



God, she’d been assuming that he merely needed closure or to work her out of his system. She’d thought maybe he was confused, nostalgic, had the chest-beating need to chase the one who got away—something. Until now, she hadn’t really considered that he might truly love her, that he got her on some soul-deep level that neither time nor distance had erased.



How was it possible that three short months of friendship and the loss of her virginity had made such an indelible impression on him? It sounded ludicrous, but somehow it appeared that had happened. Maybe it was time to consider that he knew his heart better than she did.



Maybe she should truly entertain the notion that Logan might still be in love with her.



Hope surged, desire flared. Tara threw her arms around his neck, pressed her body to his against the front door, and layered a kiss over his mouth. He wrapped her tightly in his embrace, clutching the back of her blouse in his fists, and sinking into her mouth like a dying man.



When she moaned, he angled his mouth over hers to press his claim even deeper. His raw hunger sizzled through her.



Why did he affect her as no man ever had? Why did she wonder about his feelings, unless a part of her still loved him, too?



Not ready to face that possibility, Tara wrenched away. “Still want to go inside?”



Logan scanned her face, then the parking lot. “Inside would be safer. Come with me.”



After opening the door again, he led her into a dark space. The moon slanted through the blinds as he disabled the alarm, then set it once more. Tara got a fleeting impression of hardwood floors and a wide room without a single sofa or chair. But as her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she saw a spanking bench, a St. Andrew’s Cross, and manacles dangling from the ceiling beam. A collection of whips lined the walls.



“Oh God.” The words slipped out.



He grabbed her hand. “You’ve already been on a bench and a cross, baby. You’ve been manacled from the ceiling. Nothing new there.”



“The whips . . .” She backed away.



“They scare you?”



Tara nodded emphatically. “I can’t take that.”



“This sort of discipline may come up at Fantasy Key.” Logan hesitated, raked a hand through his hair. “I wanted to give you the kiss of the whip next in your training, just in case.”



“No.”



“Cherry, you might not get that choice. What I do . . . it’s not like the movies, where they’re intentionally tearing flesh from bone. I wouldn’t hurt you, not beyond the amount of pain that feels good to you. I’d only arouse you, I swear.”



Her mind raced. “But whips draw blood.”



“Only if they’re meant to. With a light flick of the wrist and the right equipment, they just wake up your skin, make it tingle, like a good spanking. Physiologically, your blood rushes to the surface, stimulating your skin and—”



“Not tonight.” Maybe never, but Tara knew she couldn’t take it now.



Logan paused, then nodded. “You’re right. Tonight, I just want to be with you. No pushing boundaries. Follow me.”



At the far end of the living area, he opened a door to a masculine bedroom. It contained nothing but dark, modern furniture and black walls. Everything about it was impersonal, like a hotel room but with less warmth. The lone exception was the bridal portrait of his sister. He slept here alone? The room silently cried out his solitude, discouraged anyone from caring.



Until he grabbed her hand, tugging her inside with a watchful glance, and settled on the edge of the bed. “I want you here.”



“I’m here.”



“No.” He tugged off his T-shirt, revealing his wide chest, heavily roped and veined arms, and abs that rippled when he patted the mattress. “Here.”



Heat shafted her. How could she want him again? Why was it that she only had to be near Logan and she needed to feel his skin on hers, press her lips to the strong column of his throat, and spread her trembling thighs so he could work deep into her again?



He reached up, dragged his knuckles across her cheek, then over her suddenly tight nipples. “I know you’ve been through a lot today. Hell, the last few days. I see that you’re confused and don’t know where to turn, but I’ll tell you where: Me. Turn to me. Lean on me, Cherry. I swear to God I won’t let you down again. Just let me make love to you.”



Resisting Logan was difficult enough when he delivered wicked words in a sexy rumble. This entreaty was twenty times harder to deny. He said that he wanted to help her—and clearly meant it. But he looked at her like she was the answer to his prayers, the medicine he needed to heal. Whatever had happened between them in the past, no way could she refuse him now.



Time to face facts: A part of her belonged to Logan and always would.



“Yes.” Her hands went to the buttons of her blouse. Slowly, she slid the first button through its moorings, then the second.



Logan stopped her before she reached the third. “In high school, I had these fantasies about undressing you slowly and revealing that pretty pale skin a soft inch at a time before I kissed it all.”



Her breath hitched. Back then, he’d frequently looked at her as if he had sin on his mind. Now, he looked even more wicked. And she knew how wonderful he could make her feel. Every time he touched her, he drove her to the shimmering brink of pleasure and built it into a towering swell of need. And with every kiss, instead of being less affected and working him out of her system, their connection reached deeper inside her, coming dangerously close to her heart.



How the hell did she fight that?



“Logan . . .”



“I’m serious.” He slipped the third button from its hole, then caressed the top swell of her breast, moving up with a sweep of his palm until he eased the silk off her shoulder. He stood, leaned in, nipped at her neck with his teeth and a hot breath. “You really don’t know how much I want you. But I’m going to show you tonight.”



In the back of her head, Tara knew this was reckless. They should rest for the mission and start fresh. But with Logan’s blue gaze searching hers through the shadows, she didn’t care. She wanted him too badly. She didn’t know where their relationship was going. Right now, it didn’t matter. Only sharing this solemn, intimate moment did. She could fulfill the fantasy he had of making love to her in his bed. And she could revel in touching the boy she’d never forgotten, who’d become the man able to rule her body with a single velvet caress.



“Show me,” she whispered, sliding her lips across his jaw until she reached his ear. “Touch me.”



His eyes flared with heat as Logan wrapped his fingers into her hair, pulled her head back, and laid a soft kiss ripe with demand on her lips. Tara whimpered, wanting more. So he took her hand, leading her to the big bed with the black comforter and a mountain of pillows.



Then she noticed the padded manacles extending from the wall behind the headboard, dangling beside the posts, just waiting. For her.



Tara’s heart started to race in a wild beat. Then Logan slipped free the final button of her blouse and shoved it down her arms. Even that soft touch made her shiver.



Before the silk slithered to the floor, he was there, hands cupping her breasts, thumbs rasping across her nipples, still sensitive from the cherry clamps he’d used on them earlier. Tossing her head back, she moaned.



“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered.



Brad had told her that before. The difference was that Logan said it with reverence, his hands worshipful. She believed him.



He slid his palms down to the waistband of her skirt. With a twist of his fingers and a flick of his wrist, it slid down her hips and landed in a puddle with her blouse. Finally, he bent and slipped off her heels, massaging her arches as he set the shoes aside.



“You’re going to spoil me.”



Straightening, he smiled as he slid a hand over the bare curve of her ass. “That’s my job, to see to your needs, to make you feel cherished. So it’s working?”



Oh yeah.



Tara closed her eyes and reached for him, needing to touch him, craving more closeness between them.



Instead, Logan caressed his way down her arms, then took both of her wrists in his hands, pinning them together at the small of her back in a silken grip that held like iron. In this position, he forced her to arch, lifting her breasts to him. And he stared with hunger as her nipples hardened more, swelled.



As his free hand glided up her waist, closer to the aching mounds of her breasts, Tara became acutely aware of her helplessness, her vulnerability. Logan could touch her in whatever way he wished. She couldn’t stop him.



With their gazes fused together, she lost herself to him. She panted, her nipples rising helplessly with every inhalation. Completely still, he watched, waiting—for what, she wasn’t sure. The tension thickened between, crashed through her system, burning into her veins.



“Logan . . .” God, she didn’t know exactly what she asked for, except relief.



His slow smile curled up as he dragged a finger down to her drenched folds and fondled her. “Patience, Cherry. I don’t want to devour you in one bite. You’re a treat to be savored.”



Then he thrust a finger inside her, and Tara’s pussy clenched around the digit, silently begging for more. Her skin tingled. She needed his hands on her, his cock deep inside her. That need skyrocketed when he withdrew his finger and slid it into his mouth with a savoring moan.



“Christ, do you know what it does to me to see you all naked and aroused, baby?”



Tara shifted closer, jerked her hips against his. She felt only a fleeting impression of his hard cock pressing against his leather pants before he gripped her hip and angled her away. “No rushing me.”



“Then stop teasing me.”



“What fun would that be?” Cupping a breast, he stroked the underside, brushing a thumb over her aching nipple. “Spread your legs, baby.”



Tara did so without hesitation, dying for his next touch, trembling with anticipation.



“Good girl.” He swiped a finger across her pleading clit once more, making her gasp. “You’re so wet and you tempt me so damn much. I have to muster all my control to stop myself from throwing you to the bed and fucking you senseless.”



“Don’t restrain yourself on my account,” Tara whispered as she rocked against his hand.



Logan pulled his fingers back and stared down into her eyes. “When I’m ready, I won’t. But now, you don’t have any control over this, Cherry. I say how. I say when. Don’t forget it.”



Without warning, he slid two fingers deep into her pussy, rubbing at that spot inside that sent her reeling, as he thumbed her burning clit. Already aroused, now his touch felt almost too sharp to bear. Tara gasped and clenched her fists, yearning to clutch his shoulders and rub herself against him like a cat in heat. But he still held her wrists in a steely grip at the small of her back, making her take his shattering touch.



He ramped her up so quickly, she could barely catch her breath. Tingles deluged her as the ache built between her legs to something dark, demanding her every sense, urging her to beg. Orgasm shimmered just within reach.



And he backed away again.



“No, Logan. Damn it!”



He shot her a harsh stare. “I told you, I’ll grant your climax when it pleases me, baby. I’ll fuck you when I think you’re good and ready. If you’re damning me now, there’s still too much starch in your spine.”



His steely words reminded her that, while he had a heart, he was also a big, very bad Dom. Not once since they’d started having sex had he truly unleashed that side of himself on her. Last night, he’d been tender, but desperate to have her. During her training with Xander, he’d been downright possessive. After the public submission, he’d inhaled her.