The One That Got Away (9 page)

‘You don’t care for him?’

‘I do care for him. It’d be so
easy
to care deeply for your son, but I can’t, don’t you see? Logan doesn’t
want
to fall in love with me. He wants a casual, easy
relationship that he can walk away from, no damage done to either of us.
That’s
how Logan knows he’s not the dangerously
obsessed and unstable man his father was. He doesn’t trust his heart in that
regard. Only his actions. He walks away. You
know
that’s what he’ll do.’

‘But he isn’t walking away,’ offered Caroline quietly. ‘Not
from you.’

‘He will.’ Evie took a jagged breath. ‘It won’t be long
now.’

‘He’ll be back.’

‘Maybe. And then he’ll go again. And again. And again. Mrs
Carmichael, what do you want me to say?’

‘I want you to say that you’ll give my son a chance. That you
won’t be so busy protecting your own heart that you fail to see the love pouring
out of his.
Don’t
go into this thinking that Logan’s
only move will be away from you. I think he’ll surprise you. Let him surprise
you.’

Evie glanced away. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Anything
else?’ Because Evie
really
wanted to be done
here.

‘One more thing. One more piece of advice that perhaps my
second husband might give to you were he alive today. He was a good man, Evie. A
loving man and he loved my Logan as if he were his own. He’d have asked you to
be generous with Logan when he makes mistakes.’

* * *

‘I had lunch with your mother today.’

Logan stilled and Evie felt the headache that had been coming
on all afternoon pick up. Most of the conversations she’d had today hadn’t gone
well. Evie didn’t hold out a lot of hope for this one. ‘She cornered me at work.
Max was in on the plan as well, though I noticed he managed to weasel his way
out of the actual lunch.’ Bastard.

‘What did she want?’ Logan asked finally, his attention
seemingly fixed on the far corner of her not-so-sparkling kitchen floor.

‘Mostly to apologise for using me to get to you.’

‘Sounds about right.’ A muscle ticced in his otherwise rigid
jaw. ‘What else did she want?’

‘To sing your praises, I think. She did a bit of that.’ Evie
wasn’t sure she wanted to share the entire conversation with Logan, but she
could reveal bits of it. ‘She wanted to know my intentions towards you.’

Logan looked up, his gaze ever so slightly incredulous. ‘What
did you tell her?’

‘I probably should have told her to mind her own business, but
I didn’t. I told her you were leaving at the end of the week and that I had no
idea what we were doing after that. Does that sound about right?’

Logan cleared his throat and rubbed his neck with his hand. One
of Caroline’s traits too, when she wasn’t busy aiming for full composure.
‘Something like that.’

‘Max asked me what was going on between us too. We’re a hot
topic of conversation within your family, apparently. I told him that you were
an excellent houseguest and an incredibly skilled lay.’

Logan seemed to be having trouble with speech. Which was just
fine by Evie, because she didn’t particularly want to talk about where their
relationship was going either.

Evie picked up a slice of apple pie she’d brought home with her
and handed it to him along with her smuggest smile. ‘You’re welcome.’

SEVEN

Logan’s week at Evie’s passed in a blur of easy smiles
and sweat-slicked nights. Life was good but there was no denying that he had put
the real life on hold in order to be here. Work was piling up back in London and
his executives had taken to calling him in the middle of the night—his time—with
increasingly urgent questions about the running of his business and
opportunities arising. His executive assistant was ready to strangle him. On
Friday she’d not so politely told him that if he didn’t have his surly self back
behind his desk come Monday, she wouldn’t be there either. Apparently she’d had
quite enough of his executive employees begging her for word on decisions that
no one but Logan had the power to make. No one else sat at Logan’s desk while he
was away. He’d never
stayed
away for this long
before, had never needed to structure his organisation so that he could.

Something to consider.

As for Evie, she was being very...understanding. She didn’t
push for him to stay and, apart from that time when she’d talked about lunching
with his mother, she’d made no reference to where their relationship was headed
at all. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to breeze into
and out of Evie’s world and make barely a ripple.

Not meek when it came to everyday living—Evie knew how to stand
her ground and more. That message had come through loud and clear. He’d watched
her putting the brakes on a new project Max had wanted to bid on—a bread and
butter project that Max figured they could turn a quick profit on. Evie begged
to differ. The client was dodgy—notoriously late with payments and not above
changing specs mid build and expecting the builder to wear the cost. There were
jobs worth taking, Evie had told his brother bluntly. This one wasn’t worth
their effort.

Max had thrown up his hands in a sulk. Evie had lifted one
eyebrow, folded her arms in front of her and murmured, ‘Really?’

And half an hour later Max had been back, the dodgy bread and
butter bid abandoned, head down alongside Evie’s as they nutted out an
alteration to the civic centre plans that scattered her kitchen bench.

No wonder Max had refused to let her go.

But Max wasn’t here now and Logan had to be at the airport
early in the morning and, dammit, Evie could at least acknowledge that fact with
more than a nod.

And then she pulled down a bottle of tequila from a shelf in
the kitchen and two shot glasses and poured until tequila threatened to spill
over onto the bench.

‘Got any salt?’ he said.

‘Happens I do.’ Evie had lemons too, and he felt all of sixteen
as Evie told him to make a fist. He did and watched as Evie’s hand circled his
wrist and she brought his fist to her mouth, a tiny, knowing smile on her face
as the tip of her tongue dipped into the V between his forefinger and thumb.

She had his undivided attention as she pulled away, poured salt
over the wet part and set her mouth to him again, licking the salt off in one
long, lazy swipe before picking up the shot glass and swallowing the contents
fast.

Lemon came next and she scrunched up her eyes and shook her
head as the lemon juice went down. Party.

‘Hard day at the office?’ he asked as she licked then at her
own hand and poured salt on and offered it to him. Logan’s body kicked as he
took her wrist and guided it to his mouth. He took his time, his thumb stroking
slowly over the pulse at her wrist, and then he rubbed his lips along the edge
of her thumb and then his tongue. And then he took teeth to her skin and nipped
and felt Evie’s pulse kick and her eyes glow golden.

‘Ordinary day at the office,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m hoping for
an extraordinary night.’

He licked at the salt and she downed his tequila and he slammed
his lips into hers and drank it straight from her mouth and chased it down with
the sweet taste of her until the salt was all gone and the tequila was gone and
all he could taste was Evie.

By the time she drew away to take a shaky breath, Logan was
hard as concrete and a delicate flush of arousal had moved in on Evie’s
cheeks.

‘More,’ she demanded, and sucked her lower lip into her mouth
and licked it clean.

‘More of what?’

‘Everything.’

So he poured them another tequila and this time Evie bypassed
the condiments and went straight for the alcohol and then expelled her breath as
if she was breathing fire. She probably was.

‘Something you want to forget?’

‘No. I want to remember it all.’ Evie smiled and pierced his
heart. ‘I’m just working up the courage to let you go. Bear with me. It’s going
to be harder than I thought.’

Easy words, and an easy out if he wanted to take it. Keep it
light, no deep, dark emotions required. Except that sorrow lurked beneath the
smile in her eyes and challenge lived there too.

‘I hope the week worked for you,’ she said.

‘It did. Did it work for you?’

Evie shrugged, and, for the moment, the challenge in her eyes
won out over sorrow and goodbye. ‘You know I’m a sucker for more.’

He knew what she wanted. His gaze skated over her face,
lingered on a spot covered by the fall of her glossy black hair. He couldn’t see
the scar but he sure as hell knew it was there.

‘No table tops,’ she said. ‘For this we use the bed.’

And still Logan hesitated.

He’d been good all week. So very restrained. Playing at normal
and it had worked. He’d wanted normal. Needed to prove to them both that he
could be satisfied with it. Tonight though, he craved just that little
bit...more.

They still had a few hours left. They still had the night.

And there were so many ways to spend it.

He came around to her side of the counter and pushed her back
against it, got up in her space, his arms either side of her. Lips to her cheek
now, the scrape of his teeth against the sensitive skin of her ear lobe, just
enough to make her gasp. One hand to her throat now as he took full possession
of her mouth. Finding the pulse point the better to monitor it. Tilting her head
back so that his mouth fitted hers exactly the way he wanted it to.

Mine. He let that thought reach the top of the stack and his
hips responded with a slow and rolling grind.

‘Mine,’ he said and his voice came low and savage.

‘Prove it.’

Oh, he was going to.

‘Stroke me,’ he said, and showed her exactly how he wanted it,
and he was comfortable calling the shots, God help him, he was. Hard and rough
and she leaned into him and set her lips to his jaw, and her teeth to the skin
of his chin and nipped, at which point he slipped just that little bit out of
sync with the rest of the world. The place he entered had far more jagged edges
and ruins in it and the rivers ran red with pain beneath. Evie didn’t need to be
told to take the tip of him between fingers and thumb and squeeze hard—she
already knew how much he liked riding that bright flare of pain right back into
pleasure.

Knew because she liked that ride too.

‘I want control tonight.’ The words came from the deepest,
darkest part of him. ‘Over pleasure and pain and everything in between.
All
the control.’

Evie smiled as she palmed her way down blood-engorged hardness
and stroked him again with a twist to her wrist that almost made him come
undone. ‘Then take it.’

He swore he wouldn’t take too much; that this was just a game
that when played well led to extreme pleasure for both participants. He swore to
do no harm and the kitchen counter wouldn’t do, so he took her by the wrist and
headed for the stairs.

The bottom of the stairs saw his shoulders braced against the
wall and Logan’s hands cradling her cheeks as he set his lips to hers again.
They had to get up the stairs without him reaching for her along the way. There
were a lot of stairs. Evie strained against him, hands cupping his buttocks and
pulling him against her.

‘Patience,’ he whispered. ‘Virtue.’ And devoured her mouth, his
tongue searching and sweeping and his teeth taunting and teasing, memorising the
taste of her, testing the surrender in her.

It took them for ever to get to the bedroom.

Hours, in Evie’s estimation. Or maybe it was just that time
stopped so often along the way. Stopped when Logan got to sitting on the stairs
with her knees either side of him, and wrapped one of her hands around the stair
railing and made her put her other palm to the wall as he licked along the lacy
edge of her bra, and the bra came off and he curled his tongue around a nipple
before closing his lips around her and sucking hard.

Evie whimpered as passion caught a lick of pain and burned all
the brighter for it.

She returned the favour when finally he let her put her mouth
to him.

And then they got to the bedroom and slowly, surely, he
stripped her down until the only thing that mattered was Logan’s next touch and
what it would bring, and she never knew what, only that it was always exactly
right.

No thought of anything but the ride as he worked her, enslaved
her.

No need to ever ask for more because she already had everything
she’d ever wanted and his name was Logan and when her sky turned black he was
the only thing she could see.

This
, she thought when she was a
mindless mess of sensation and yearning and he finally sheathed himself inside
her. This man and the razor-sharp edge he brought to things.

This was what she’d been waiting for.

* * *

Evie
woke in the dark, twenty minutes before
Logan had set the alarm on his phone to ring. He had to get to the airport by
six. By the end of the day he’d be on the other side of the world. She didn’t
want to dwell on how empty that made her feel.

Instead, Evie stretched her arms above her head gingerly, and
straightened her legs, testing for tenderness and finding echoes of it in
unexpected places. Inner thigh muscles, upper arms, her mouth...overstretched
and puffy, and she sucked at her lower lip, checking for splits and finding one.
She turned towards the man sleeping beside her, only he wasn’t asleep.
Sleepy-eyed, yes, but not asleep, his gaze roved over the parts of her not
covered by the sheet, and then he rolled over onto his elbow, flicked on the
lamp by the bed before sliding the sheet down her body and studying the rest of
her in the soft glow cast by the lamp’s light.

‘Roll over,’ he ordered and Evie did as she was told and let
him continue his examination. ‘Bruise here,’ he said, and ran the pad of his
thumb over the curve of her hip. ‘Red here.’ A touch on her buttocks; the soft
underside of her upper arms.

‘Feels fine,’ she said and slid her hands beneath the pillow
and stretched again, working out the kinks, one by one.

His fingers touched the split in the middle of her lower lip
and his eyes darkened. He’d used her hard and they both knew it.

‘Sorry,’ he rumbled gruffly.

She prodded at the split with her tongue. Decided that within
half a day it’d be gone. ‘Don’t be.’

Logan moved his attention to her hair next, gentle fingers
sliding through it, pushing it back off her face, out of her eyes. She let him
find the scar he was looking for. Let him run his fingers over it.

‘Angie—’

He hadn’t called her that all week. She knew exactly why that
name had slipped from his lips now, but it wasn’t one she wanted to hear.

‘Evie,’ she corrected gently and drew his hand to the curve of
her cheek instead. ‘Angie didn’t know how to pull all the scattered pieces of
herself back together after a night like last night. Evie does.’

‘Who taught you?’ Possessiveness in his voice and in his eyes,
and Evie thrilled to it, even as she rolled away from his touch and out of the
crazily mussed-up bed.

‘No one person. You more than anyone. Experience.’ She sat on
the side of the bed with her back to him and her fingers curled around the edge
of the bed. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and stretched her back
out. ‘You were right about me needing more experience all those years ago.
Hindsight’s a wonderful thing.’ She turned her head to look at him, expecting
turmoil in his eyes and finding it. ‘I like the person I am now. I value every
single experience that went into the making of her. Good and bad.’

‘Evie—’

Her name bled from his lips, apology shot through with regret.
‘Logan,’ she replied steadily. ‘If that’s regret on your lips for what we did
last night I’d rather not hear it. You brought a lick of pain and a lot of
intense pleasure along with your lovemaking last night and you like wielding
both—don’t tell me you don’t—and I love it when you do. No analysis required.
Can’t we just leave it at that?’

So he choked on whatever he’d been about to say and asked her
if she wanted coffee instead.

She said yes, and watched as he stepped into sweats that rode
low on his hips and disappeared down the stairs, a picture of rumpled, extremely
biddable masculinity. She didn’t want coffee but Logan wanted to get away from
her, or do something for her, or both, and who was Evie to argue?

She waited another moment and then rose and headed for the
bathroom, somewhat tender in places, walking a little stiffly, to be sure, but
nothing a shower and being up and about wouldn’t fix.

A quick shower this morning, anticipating that Logan too would
want to clean up and be on his way. Go back to bed after he left, she could do
that, but Evie knew she wouldn’t.

Strip the bed, put some washing on, get out of the apartment,
maybe even go for a swim and let the waves wash away her tears. Keep moving,
stay busy.

He came back with coffee just as she stepped from the shower
and she towelled off fast and slipped into her dressing robe. Leave him with a
picture of morning domesticity. A counterpoint to the memories they’d created
last night.