“You have exactly two minutes to get some clothes on. Any time after that I will consider an invitation to dress you myself.”
Her mouth fell open. Then quickly shut at his expression. She turned and left the room, cursing her meekness as she tugged on the black jeans she had worn the night before, and the gold silk blouse. She used mouthwash, splashed some water on her face, ran her fingers through her long wild waves, and was back out the door with seconds to spare. When she re-entered the living room, Logan firmly took her hand and pulled her out the door, barely giving her time to call her goodbye to Harry.
She settled herself in the seat and fastened her seat belt. “Do you know where my car is parked?”
“We’re not going to pick up your car.” He threw the clutch into gear and shot away from the curb. “I’m taking you to my house.”
She digested the statement, then nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. We need to talk. One of the most important parts of a relationship is communication, and we need to make sure our signals won’t get crossed again."
Logan didn’t answer. She tried to say something else, then thought better of it. She couldn’t seem to judge his mood, and didn’t want to set off his temper. She decided to wait until they reached his house.
She leaned back and watched him through heavy lidded eyes, intrigued by his appearance. He wore faded old Levis that clung to his muscular thighs, a white t-shirt, and a black leather bomber jacket. With his dark hair blowing in the wind, the easy way he threw the clutch into gear, and the hard, sensual lines of his face, he looked less like an executive and more like he should ride a Harley Davidson and charm young girls out of their clothes. She hid a smile at the thought.
He finally swung up to the house and got out of the car. In silence, he escorted her inside, turning to shut the door behind him and lock it. Once again, the click of the latch made shivers run down her spine.
She pushed away her silly thoughts and faced him. “Logan, I think last night proved that ultimatums do not work in a relationship. When you told me to be home by a certain hour I felt threatened, so I tried to do something to reassert my independence. But my plan backfired, and only ended up getting us confused and dragged poor Harry into our mess. I think this whole episode showed we’re having problems facing our emotions.”
She stopped for a moment to judge his reaction. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and stood before her in his t-shirt and jeans, hands on hips. The thin cotton material stretched lovingly over his muscular chest. He seemed to listen to what she said, even though he had an oddly determined expression on his face. Knowing she had a bad habit of chattering when she was nervous, she paced the room and tried to find the right words.
“Perhaps this is a sign for us to slow things down. Trust and communication are the basics for a successful relationship. Maybe we need to get to know each other a little better. Maybe we should get used to the idea of compromise.”
She pushed back her heavy mane of hair and sighed. “I admit to my fault in this, and I’m sure you’re sorry for the way you barged into Harry’s apartment to assume the worst. Maybe we can turn this episode into something of a learning experience. What do you think?”
He reminded her of a warrior. He stood by the door. Legs braced apart. Thumbs hooked in his pocket as he waited. Dark hair mussed. Eyes narrowed. An unreadable expression on his face that made her more nervous than a testosterone temper tantrum. Waves of energy and tension emanated from his figure and pulled her to him in a way she recognized all too well. She fought the physical attraction that raged between them and awaited his response.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes. I’ve told you how I feel. Now, I think you should explain your feelings and maybe we can work something out that would be agreeable to both of us.”
Suddenly, his mouth curved into a lazy smile and displayed a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. A pure devil smile that promised retribution and promised it slowly. Her stomach twisted in response at the predatory look on his face. With ease he closed the distance between them. His hands reached out to settle on her shoulders, then he ran his palms down her arms in a caress. His voice poured over her like warm, sticky molasses.
“Chandler, in a couple of hours everything will be clear. You’ll know me in every way imaginable, and I’ll know you. There will be no more communication problems, no more games, and no more lies. I’m taking you to bed, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
In one swift movement his hands glided down to grasp her hips. He leaned down and swung her up and over his shoulder, one hand easily holding down her legs to keep her from kicking. For an instant Chandler could have sworn she misunderstood him, until she found herself upside down, being carried confidently up the spiral staircase.
“You can’t do this!” She fought for breath as her stomach bounced against his shoulder. “Logan, men don’t treat women like this anymore. It’s, it’s—primitive!”
The rumble of his low chuckle drifted to her ears. “Things were a hell of a lot simpler then, sweetheart. I wanted you to trust me, but I only ended up giving you enough space so you could re-build your defenses. By tomorrow you won’t have any doubts left.”
She caught a flash of cream carpeting, the sound of a door being flung open and closed, the scent of musk and lemon permeating the air. “Put me down!” she shrieked. “I refuse to be treated in this heavy handed manner.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The world shifted as she was dumped into the middle of a four poster bed. She sank into the luxurious mattress and tried to regain her balance. Inching her way to the edge, she tried to make a jump for freedom when a gentle push at her shoulders reversed her direction and caused her to fall back again. This time there was no chance of getting back up.
Logan pinned her under him, his hard muscles pressed against every curves of her body. Her chest heaved and her breasts strained against her silk blouse. Her long hair fell wildly around her, the tawny strands blending with the desert tones of the comforter. His fingers interlaced with hers and held them beside her head. His eyes burned like smoke.
She stuck out her chin with pure stubbornness. “I won’t let you make love to me because you have some twisted motivation to make me surrender.”
His lips curved into a sensual smile. “I’m going to make love to you because I’ve never wanted another woman like this before in my life. You invade my thoughts and haunt my dreams. I need you to fill a hole inside of me I didn’t know existed before I met you. Those are my motivations, Chandler.”
Sexual energy crackled between them like a burst of summer lightning. She closed her eyes. Dear God, she ached for him desperately, ached to believe his words but the fear was still there. The fear a man could deceive her and break her heart. Confusion and desire and anger twisted inside of her, and when she opened her eyes, she let him see it all. “Don’t lie to me.” Her voice shook. “Damn you, Logan, don’t you lie to me.”
His grip gentled. “I won’t.” He lowered his mouth so his breath mingled with hers. “I swear I’ll never hurt you. Let me make love to you and show how my body could never lie.”
His mouth closed over hers. He let his tongue plunder its dark, silken depths and possess her completely. Fire ignited in his blood as his tongue tangled with hers, tasting her, giving to her, demanding a response until her body thrust against him. Her body trembled under his weight. He rubbed his mouth back and forth over hers. The dark stubble on his jaw and chin rasped against her sensitive lips. She shuddered. His hands untangled from hers to stroke downward, and he felt the tips of her breasts push against the material of her blouse, and the unconscious invitation of her hips lifting against his.