Her whimper gave way to a shocked cry when he lifted her hips and sank his teeth into the tender, swollen flesh protecting her entrance.
“You,” she screamed, and pounded the door with her fist as he used his tongue to drag her up and over the first jagged peak. Before she could catch her breath and beg for mercy, he drove her up again. His mouth plundered, ravaged, and sent her tumbling headlong into a place she’d only dreamed about—before Logan.
…
Sophie’s bucking and squirming and praying to God were gratifyingly unrestrained, but left Logan with the self-imposed obligation to bring her back down slow and easy. He held tight and kept his mouth on her, kissing her as intimately as she could stand, then gradually gentling the pressure and slowing the sweep of his tongue as her orgasm receded, leaving her limp and panting. He kissed her softly one last time while he slipped her shoes off. Then he eased her legs off his shoulders, gathered her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. If he’d needed any assurances as to whom she wanted, the last few minutes had given him plenty. Now it was his turn.
He laid her across the white sheets, stepping back to soak in the sight of her—arms flung out above her head, ankles crossed and knees drawn up. Naked, except for the black bra not quite containing her breasts. Dark, dazed eyes gazed at him from half-lowered lids. Her full lips trembled apart. “I’m still mad at you,” she whispered.
“Uh-oh. Better get rid of this.” He undid his belt, slid it from around his waist and let it drop to the floor. It was hard to make jokes with the scent of her teasing his brain, the taste of her coating his tongue, and his need for her creating an unholy pressure between his legs, but he thought he pulled it off.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not funny.”
“Oh, come on.” He aimed a grin at her and went to work on his shirt buttons. “That was a little bit funny.”
She tugged her bra into place and then propped herself up on her elbows. “No. You’re not funny, and you’re not charming. You’re just a…a no-good player, plain and simple. I can’t believe I ever had a crush on…” Her voice trailed off and she blushed all the way from the roots of her hair to the center of her chest.
“You had a crush on me?” Smiling, he shrugged his shirt off and reached for his fly.
“I’m over it. Keep your pants on, player, I’m not staying.” She sat up and made a move to scramble off the bed. He tugged his pants and briefs off, and then caught her ankle, preventing her escape.
“Before you rush off and slam the door in my face, want to tell me why I’m a ‘no-good player’ as you put it?”
If looks could kill, the one she shot him would have wiped out his entire family tree. She blew the hair out of her face and said, “You know why. I’m not blind, or stupid. I saw you with Regan tonight. You had your hands all over her—”
“It was a dance lesson. We were dancing.”
“She had her lips all over you, and…and…this is ridiculous. I’m done. Let me go.”
She tugged at the ankle he still held captive. When he didn’t let go, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared past him, looking so jealous and miserable he wanted to cuddle her, and then kiss her, and then… But he wanted to put this particular insecurity to rest first. It’s not that he didn’t have some sympathy. He’d experienced a flash of jealousy seeing her dance with Brock tonight, but he’d gotten over it as soon as she’d shown up at his door. He’d had his hands and mouth all over her, and she still doubted him.
“She kissed me on the cheek, Sophie, and it was nothing but friendly.”
Her eyes zipped back to his. “Bull. She picked you from the start.”
His confusion over that comment must have shown on his face, because she rolled her eyes and continued, “The bridesmaids’ bet, remember? You couldn’t find your room key after the dinner at Spago, and I told you about the bet? Regan was the one aiming to bag the best man. Well, no actually, at that point it was Julie, but then the morning of the scavenger hunt things shuffled and Regan called dibs—”
“Jesus.” He let go of her ankle and dropped down beside her on the bed. “I’ve been passed around like a canapé.”
“My point is, her interest in you goes way beyond friendly and I’m not so naive I don’t know it. She wants you. And you know what? That’s fine—inevitable, really. I always knew you’d end up with a girl like Regan, so go tango with her. No hard feelings. But stop paying attention to me, and flirting with me, and”—she made a vague gesture toward her lap—“all the rest of it.”
“By which you mean the”—he lowered his voice dramatically—“S-E-X?”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. What you’re doing isn’t amusing. It’s mean, and unfair, and you have to stop because otherwise, I’m not going to be able to keep myself from…from…” She shook her head and clamped her mouth shut, but her chin trembled.
“I’m not laughing,” he said firmly, and steeled himself to stand tough in the face of her tears, because if she figured any part of what he had to say stemmed from a desire to make her stop crying, she’d never truly believe the words. “Maybe you’re not naive, but you’re sure as hell blind.”
Her wide, wounded eyes filled with indignation.
“That’s right. You’re blind if you honestly can’t see that I don’t want Regan. Or Julie or Christine, for that matter. None of them interest me, and to make that sound less self-centered, I’ll hazard to guess I don’t rank very high on their lists of interests either, despite the damn bridesmaid pact. There’s only one woman who interests me. Only one woman I want. And she’s the only one I’ve been paying attention to, and flirting with, and all the rest of it. But if you can’t see that, and you can’t trust me, and you really believe I’m just a no-good player, then I’ve been wasting my time. Not to mention setting myself up for a shitload of disappointment, because without trust, we’re just fucking around. You might as well have dealt yourself in on the bridesmaid games, called dibs on me, and walked away with the win at the end of this week.”
Sophie closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I want to trust. I want to believe, but Logan, you didn’t even notice me that first night at the bachelorette party, and then, the next evening, you’re suddenly standing in the lobby like my knight in shining armor, dragging me to dinner, sticking by my side. I guess a part of me can’t fathom how I went from invisible to so dang interesting overnight.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth about why he’d dragged her to dinner that night, but admitting that any part of his actions stemmed from his promise to Colt would undermine the trust he desperately wanted from her. Besides, in truth, she’d caught his eye that night in the lobby before he’d even known who she was, and the attraction had been immediate, so the fact that Colt had asked him to take her under his wing was largely irrelevant.
“Were you wearing snug jeans and leaning all over the concierge desk the first night?”
She sniffed, looked at him, and wiped her cheek. “No.”
“Well, there you go. Mystery solved.”
Now she gave him a watery laugh. “Be serious. You did not notice me because you liked the way my butt looked in jeans.”
He reached over and dragged her onto his lap, splaying his hand across
the butt in question. “Have you seen your butt in jeans? Until you have, you’re not qualified to comment.” He squeezed, just for the fun of watching her squirm, and then looked her in the eye. “For the record, the night of the bachelorette party was the night I arrived at Beaver Creek, after working nonstop for weeks in what turns out to have been a wasted effort to give myself enough breathing room to detach from Defy Gravity for a minute. I was functioning on less than three hours of sleep and I barely knew my own name. The only thing that really sticks out in my mind about the first night is that I lost my room key—which could have been my own damn fault considering I was, essentially, a zombie.”
“Really?”
“Really. But, Soph, I’ve been noticing you like crazy ever since.” He pushed her hips down so there was no way she could miss exactly how much he was noticing her at the moment. “You make me stand up and take notice. And not just because of all these mind-boggling curves wrapped in silk and lace—though I’m certainly not complaining. Your honesty, your sense of adventure, the way you can’t turn down a dare…those things grabbed my attention, and I’ve been captivated ever since.”
Sophie sucked in a breath, and then melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s the nicest thing any man has ever said to me.”
The feel of her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples drilling into him through the skimpy bra, the stirring little hitch in her voice—it all had a predictable effect on him. He eased back and brought his lips down on hers, taking almost savage satisfaction in the way hers instantly parted and her tongue darted into his mouth to mate with his. Her hungry moan only added fuel to the fire.
Seducing an angry Sophie had its merits, and he’d reveled in every second of her reluctant capitulation, but keeping up with cooperative—hell, enthusiastic—Sophie unleashed a whole new level of need. Watching her shed her inborn reserve, her inhibitions, enthralled him in a way nothing else ever had. Or ever will, a fatalistic voice in the back of his mind added.