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|Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(42) by Samantha Young|
My own temper rose in answer. “There’s nothing wrong with this dress.”
“Well, he could be in no doubt what you were offering when you turned up in it. So what the hell happened? Or was it the true definition of a quickie?”
I sucked in my breath, hurt. “Get out of my kitchen.”
He marched around the counter toward me. “Not before you tell me what that bastard did to you.”
“It’s none of your business. For the fifteen hundredth time.”
“I beg to fucking differ.” He stopped inches from me, towering over me, deliberately trying to intimidate me into answering.
I looked up at him, trying to shoot sparks at him with my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. I am not your sister!”
Logan jerked back as if I’d hit him, surprise rounding his eyes. After a minute he said hoarsely, “Believe me, I know you are not my sister.”
What did that mean? I shivered under the heat of his regard and felt gooseflesh rise on the upper curves of my breasts. My nipples tightened against my bra. Trembling a little now, I skirted around him, putting some distance between us.
“I just want to know if he hurt you,” Logan said, no longer sounding angry.
“No, he didn’t.” I finished off my wine and turned, but I braced myself against the wall, unable to hold myself up against the confusion I felt.
The tension in the room was unbelievably thick, and I was starting to wonder if the sexual part of it on my side wasn’t just on my side. In fact, I was starting to wonder if the tension wasn’t entirely made up of sexual frustration, period.
I looked up at Logan from under my lashes. He’d turned to face me, but every muscle in his body seemed to be stretched taut. “No, he didn’t,” I repeated quietly. “But he was only after one thing.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “What did you do?”
“I told him I didn’t do one-night stands because when I went to bed with a man I wanted him to do whatever he wanted to me, and for that I needed to know and trust him.”
Logan’s face went blank. “You said what?” he asked flatly.
“I was being funny.” I shrugged, suddenly not feeling so funny anymore.
“Aye, well, I’d expect a phone call from him tomorrow. Saying shit like that to him, wearing that fucking dress…” He was angry again.
And like always, his anger ignited mine. “Why are you acting like a complete sod to me tonight?”
“Are you really that fucking clueless?” Logan shouted, wearing a look of disbelief.
“Apparently so!” I shouted back.
“Well, here’s a damn hint!”
I barely had time to blink at his yell before his body was pressing mine hard into the wall. He captured my wrists in his hands and pinned them, holding me completely captive. Breathing heavy, his face but an inch from mine, he stared down into my eyes and said hoarsely, “Tell me to get out, Grace.”
My skin was flushed. In fact, my whole body felt like flames were licking at every inch of it. I could feel my breasts swell up against the tight confines of my dress, and the tingling between my legs had increased to an insistent throb. I breathed Logan in, my breath hitching as I felt his erection. There was a pleasant flip in my lower belly, and I squeezed my legs tighter together at the rush of slickness between them.
“Grace.” His head dipped toward mine. “Tell me to leave.”
“No,” I whispered back, relaxing into the wall, and he melted into me with a groan. “I want you to stay.”
He looked into my eyes as if searching for the answer to something. “If I stay I’m going to fuck you.”
I trembled in reaction to his bluntness and licked my lips before I moved my feet, widening my legs so he could fit just right between them. His eyes flared at the movement, and I reached up so our lips brushed as I whispered, “I’m counting on it.”
Logan MacLeod could kiss.
His lips were hot against my lips as his tongue slid against mine. Stubble from his beard scratched my skin as he deepened the kiss and ground his lower body against me. My nipples instantly hardened. I’d never been kissed like this before. With such voraciousness. Like he couldn’t get enough of me.
I let out a little gasp of excitement as he released my lips to trail his down my throat, traveling lower to the rise of my breasts. He squeezed my wrists as I arched against his mouth. In answer he released his hold on my hands and pulled back to stare into my flushed face. My skin felt inflamed and much too tight.
My lower belly flipped at the hunger in his heated gaze.
I’d never felt so wanted in my life.
And to be wanted by him…
“Logan,” I pleaded.
His eyes flared at my plea, and he slipped his fingers under the straps of my dress. With a deliberate slowness that had me panting, he lowered the straps of my dress, tugging on them until the front of it was bunched under my bra. He followed this by tugging my bra down to expose me. Cupping my breasts in his large hands, he stared into my eyes and gave me that sexy little smirk of his. His head descended, and I cried out as his mouth wrapped around my nipple. I reached for him, my arms curling around his neck, drawing him closer. I moaned, my head falling back against the kitchen wall as he licked and sucked and tormented before moving on to my other nipple. My senses were overwhelmed. His scent, his heat, his hardness, and strength. I was surrounded. I’d never felt this way before. Like I might burst out of my skin if he didn’t come inside of me.