Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2017 Books 5 - 8 - Jane Porter, Andie Brock - Страница 18
ОглавлениеROWAN’S WARM, HUSKY LAUGH sent a ripple of pleasure through her, unleashing butterflies in her middle and a rush of warmth in her chest. Why did she respond like that to him? Why did she have to find him so appealing?
He’d simply laughed. That was all. And yet his laugh made her feel good. His laugh didn’t just turn her on, it warmed her from the inside out. Damn him.
Logan hovered inside the bathroom doorway and tried to force herself to focus. “How serious is Bronson’s setback?” Rowan didn’t reply immediately, and she took another tentative step into the warm, humid bathroom. “Is Bronson okay?”
“He’s getting the best medical care possible but he’s not responding as well as the team hoped.” He paused, before asking, “When was the last time you saw him?”
She had to think. “It’s been a while. A couple years, maybe. I was pregnant, and then I had Jax, so I wasn’t traveling and Bronson is always working. He’s spent the past three years working tirelessly to pay back as many of Dad’s clients as possible. It’s a thankless job, though. Most of the clients are so angry—and yes, they have a right to be, I know—but Bronson didn’t steal from them. Bronson had nothing to do with Dad’s company, and they don’t realize, or maybe they just don’t care, that he’s sacrificing everything to pay them back.”
Water just sluiced down. There was no reply. Not sure if he’d heard her or if he was done talking, she cleared her throat “Why did you ask? Is there something I should know, something you haven’t told me?”
Again silence stretched before Rowan said, “He’s almost destitute...just one step up from living on the streets.”
“No.”
“He’s been ill, too. He’s not in good shape.”
“I had no idea. Poor Bronson. So who is with him? Mom?” She found it difficult to reconcile her tall, handsome, successful brother with the one in the hospital. “Are there any leads on who attacked him?”
“Your mother isn’t there. She’s been fighting something and isn’t strong enough to travel.”
“So he’s alone?”
“Yes, but there is good news. The London police have taken someone in for questioning. It looks like the attack was an isolated incident. Victoria should be able to return home soon.”
“That is good news.”
“So Jax and I could return home soon, too.”
“You’re free to travel wherever you like.”
“Seriously? So I could go to my room and pack right now?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not worried about losing me?”
“No, because you’d return frequently to see Jax—”
“I’m not leaving Jax here.”
“I’m her dad. She needs to be with me.”
“I’m her mother, Rowan. She belongs with me.”
“Then I guess you might not want to travel for long periods, because this is her home now. And it’s your home, too, Logan. That’s why we’re getting married. We both want Jax to have a family, and stability. There shouldn’t be confusion on that.” He was silent a moment before adding, “Do you want to come in and give me a hand?”
“A hand doing what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well, you could wash my back...or something.”
She went warm all over, picturing the something, and picturing the something growing larger, heavier.
She definitely was curious, and she squirmed a bit, listening to the water stream down, but she didn’t like him and didn’t trust him, and she hated how he used sex and temptation against her.
“You don’t play fair,” she called to him, trying not to wonder if he used a lot of soap or body wash, and if he’d lathered himself everywhere. Would he stroke himself as he lathered? Was he stroking himself now? But going down that road...exploring any of those questions would just lead to trouble. He was trouble. Hot, sexy, serious trouble. The trouble that made her drop her guard and lose her reason and she had adorable little Jax as proof. “So, no. Not interested in washing your back. Or anything else.”
“Should we talk about the wedding then?”
“Rowan.”
“Jax is expecting brothers and sisters.”
“Then Jax is going to be disappointed,” she answered firmly.
“And what if you are pregnant?”
She really didn’t want to think about that. She wasn’t pregnant. She couldn’t be pregnant.
But he had gotten her pregnant the first time they were together. It could happen again.
“We have to use protection from now on,” she said firmly. “We can’t take these risks.”
“I was thinking we’d get married tomorrow. Jax should be there, of course—”
“No!”
“It’s her dream.”
“It’s also her dream to be a fairy and fly, but that isn’t going to happen, either.”
“You have no sense of adventure.”
He was such a jerk.
Taking a breath for courage, she entered the steamy bathroom. It was a modern bathroom with stylish finishes—marble everywhere, even up to the high ceiling, a huge mirror running the length of a double vanity, and a shower the size of a walk-in closet, the spacious marble shower outfitted with multiple heads to give him an overhead soak as well as a full body spray.
Rowan was standing directly under one of the faucets, dark head tipped back, muscular arm lifted as he ran fingers through his hair, rinsing the shampoo out. His thick biceps was bunched and his flat, hard abdomen was a perfect six pack.
The man was too attractive.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’re sure you don’t want to wash my...something?” His green eyes glimmered.
“No.”
“Fine. But do you mind if I do?” he asked pouring body wash into his hand.
Her eyes widened.
Laughing softly he spread the liquid across his chest and then streaked it down his stomach, and then lower to his cock, which was coming to life.
“I did not come in here for a peep show,” she said sternly.
“Just trying to get clean, love.”
She grimaced, and looked away, not wanting him to know that it was fascinating watching his shaft spring to life and even more fascinating to see how he held it, fisting the length, paying special attention to the thick knob at the end.
And she knew how he was gripping his erection by the reflection in the clear glass shower doors as those hadn’t fogged up.
“What’s going on with my sister?” she asked, trying to focus on what was important.
“Why didn’t you see her for a couple years?” he asked.
From her position she could see his reflection continue to work the soap over his erection. He was slowly, firmly stroking down, working his hand up over the head. Her breath caught in her throat. She squirmed on the inside. “Um,” she said, unable to think clearly. “Because I was pregnant...”
“Right.” He was stroking down again, the muscles in his forearm cording.
God, he was sexy.
Awful. And sexy. Awfully sexy. Damn him. She dragged in a breath. “So...what’s your point?”
“Think about what I’m saying.”
“I can’t. Not when you’re doing...that.”
“I knew you were watching.” His deep voice was even huskier now than it had been a few moments ago. “Do you want to watch me finish?”
“No!” And then she turned around quickly to look at him. “Are you really going to come?”
His gaze met hers, and one dark eyebrow lifted. “Is that a problem?”
“It just seems...rude...since I’m standing right here.”
“You’re in my bathroom.”
“You invited me in.”
“Because you wanted to come in. You were curious. Admit it.”
“I wasn’t,” she protested and then realized he’d stopped handling himself. He still had a huge erection, but he was rinsing off the suds and lather, and then turning off the water.
She glanced uneasily at his erection. “You’re just going to leave that, that way?”
“Yes.” He leaned out of the shower and grabbed a plush towel from the rack.
“But doesn’t it hurt?”
“Not that much.”
She couldn’t stop looking at him, watching as Rowan dragged the towel over his face, mopping his dark hair and then down his body.
He stopped toweling as he reached his cock. “Sorry. Maybe I’m being dense. Did you want to finish me off?”
“No!” she cried, pretending to be horrified, but then ruined the effect by grinning. “But you should know that that thing is very distracting.”
He held his arms open, as if giving himself to her.
Logan backed up a step. “I wouldn’t even begin to know what to do with it.”
“I think you did just fine last night.”
“That’s because you took the lead on everything.”
“I just touched you, love.”
That was true. And it had felt wonderful.
She eyed the long, smooth, thick length of him, capped by that equally thick head. She wondered what he’d feel like in her mouth. She wondered what that rounded cap of his would feel like against her lips. She wondered what he’d do if she put her mouth on him.
Pulse quickening, she took a step back toward him. “Can I touch you?”
He nodded, his lashes lowering, hiding his intense green gaze. She was glad. His eyes had a way of seeing too much.
She took another step toward him and, having closed the distance, she put her hands on his chest, his skin so warm beneath her hands, and slid her palms down from his pecs over his ribs to his pelvis with that impressive V-shape.
And then after stealing a peek up into his face—his expression was shuttered and impossible to read—she knelt down in front of him, and dragged her hands down over his hips, along the front of his thighs, his quadriceps rock hard.
His cock bobbed in front of her mouth. She looked at it a little bit warily even as her pulse jumped, adrenaline getting the best of her.
And Rowan, to his credit, just stood there, waiting.
Leaning toward him, she kissed the tip lightly, curious. He was firm, but the skin was soft, warm. She kissed him again, leaving her mouth against him, drinking in his heat and the silky softness as she opened her mouth to touch him with her tongue.
She thought he made a hoarse sound, and she looked up at him, but his expression was blank and so she opened her mouth wider and covered just the tip, and then sucked gently.
He grew even harder as she gently sucked, pulling on him, creating warm wet friction around the head, and then using her tongue to taste and tease the underside of the head.
He made another hoarse sound, and this time she smiled to herself. He didn’t hate it. That was something.
Emboldened, she swallowed him even deeper and wrapped what she couldn’t take into her mouth with a hand, holding him tightly, and stroking him with her mouth and hand the way she’d seen him touch himself in the shower.
She continued to work him, struggling to get a rhythm going, but feeling awkward as she ran out of air more than once and needed to pull away so she could get another breath.
He groaned as she broke the rhythm a third time, and she froze, looking up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this and you’re so big—”
“Don’t apologize,” he ground out, drawing her to her feet before lifting her up onto the bathroom counter.
He flipped her skirt up and spread her knees wide and then put his mouth on her, over the satin of her panties, and then, pushing the fabric aside, his tongue found her between the slippery folds. She gasped and arched as he flicked her sensitive nib.
“You’re already so wet,” he said, thrusting a finger into her.
She rocked against his hand, helplessly grinding against him as his sucked on her clit, already close to climaxing. “Sucking on you turned me on,” she panted.
“It turned me on, too.” His voice was rough, hoarse. “But don’t come yet. You have to wait until I tell you.”
“I don’t think I can—”
He abruptly pulled away and she gasped as he left her. She struggled to pull down her skirt but instead he was taking her off the counter, peeling off her panties and turning her around, bending her over the slab of marble covering the vanity so that her bare butt was exposed.
“Watch me take you,” he said. “Watch me fill you. Watch how good we are together.”
And then he was parting her legs and running fingers over her, finding her where she was wet. She felt the moment his arousal replaced his fingertips, his thick insistent shaft pressing at her hot core. Her senses spun as he took the thick head and rubbed it up and down her, taking her creamy heat and spreading it over the tip, making them both slick.
“Watch,” he commanded, putting a hand into her hair and tugging her head back to see her face in the mirror. “Watch as I fill you.”
And then he was there, entering her, pressing the thick tip in, stretching her, slowly pushing deeper and deeper.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp of pleasure. He felt so big, and so hot inside her. It was hard to feel anything but him buried deep inside her, her body still trying to accommodate his size.
But then Rowan’s hands were on her hips, stroking the outside of her hips and then over the round curve of her backside, kneading her ass until she wiggled, ready for more, wanting more.
His hands were under her now, cupping her breasts, rubbing the nipples, making her gasp.
“Look at you,” he growled. “You’re so beautiful.”
“No.”
“You are, and you’re mine. We belong together, mo ghra. Can’t you see that?”
She didn’t know where to look. She was pressed close to the mirror, and she felt so much that it was hard to take in what she was seeing. Instead she got impressions—her pink cheeks, her bright eyes, her lips parted and swollen, while behind her Rowan was all hard, taut muscle. He looked powerful and primal and...happy.
It crossed her mind that he might just like her.
That he might truly want her.
She exhaled in a rush as he rubbed her sensitive nipples, kneading them, making her hotter, wetter, making her tighten convulsively around him.
“Keep watching.” His deep voice was practically purring. “Watch us.”
Her breath hitched as he slid a hand from her breasts, down over her belly, to settle between her thighs, and then hitched again as he parted her curls and the soft inner lips to stroke her swollen clit.
He played her clit without moving his hips and it wasn’t fair—to feel so much fullness within her while he teased all those nerve endings—she wouldn’t be able to resist him long.
“I’m going to come,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t stop it this time.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
And just like that his hand fell away, and he pulled out of her, and she nearly screamed with frustration at the deep intense ache within her that was part emptiness and part pain. Tears started to her eyes and turning around she beat him on his chest. “I hate you for doing that. Why do that?”
“Because when you delay an orgasm, it makes it even stronger when you do finally come—”
“I don’t want it to be even stronger. I just want you.” She beat one more time on his chest, this time for emphasis. “So stop messing around. Give me you.” Her hands reached for his neck and she pulled his head down to her and she kissed him desperately. “I want you, you awful horrible addictive man.” And then she was kissing him again, kissing him as if her life depended on it.
* * *
The kiss felt different.
Rowan had kissed Logan before. He’d kissed countless women before. But there had never been a kiss quite like this one.
It was hot and fierce and edged with a hunger that stirred his blood, but there was something else in it, too. Something...open. Something vulnerable.
Not that she was giving herself to him, but instead asking for something of him. And it wasn’t a sexual commitment. It was bigger than that. Deeper.
She wanted him.
As his hands rose to clasp her face, his palms cradling her jaw so that he could kiss her more deeply, it struck him that she was looking for truth. She was looking for safety. She was looking for someone who would accept her, offering herself in return.
She’d been like this that first night together, the night of the auction...fierce, intense, warm, open.
He hadn’t known her then. He hadn’t realized she was a virgin. Hadn’t understood that she hadn’t merely been offering her body, but she’d been giving him her heart.
He understood it now. He understood her.
And this time, he wasn’t throwing her gift away.
Rowan scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the bathroom to the bedroom where he placed her on the bed.
He stretched out over her, and she parted her knees for him, making room for him.
“I won’t stop this time,” he murmured. “And I’m not going away. I’m going to make you feel good, and I’m going to keep making you feel good until you and I are finally on the same page.”
“That’s going to take a lot of sex.”
“Good thing we both like it.”
He positioned himself between her thighs, finding her where she was so soft and wet and ready for him. He heard her sigh as he slid in, felt her hips tilt to welcome him. He nearly growled with pleasure as she accepted him, taking him deep. She was tight and hot and her body clenched him, holding him.
He loved being buried within her. Everything felt right when he was with her like this, and everything would be perfect if he knew he hadn’t hurt her.
But he had.
And he couldn’t go back, and he couldn’t change his reaction that morning in her kitchen, and he couldn’t change the fact that he’d scorned her when she phoned weeks later, but he could give himself to her now. He could be real with her now.
He pressed up, resting his weight on his forearms, then he slowly drew out of her before burying himself deep again. He kissed her as his hips thrust, his tongue probing her mouth, stroking to match the friction of his shaft.
It felt so good being with her. He felt so good with her. He didn’t want the pleasure to end. This was sex, but not merely sex, it was more. He couldn’t explain it, and didn’t want to try. He just knew that he’d taken so many women to bed, and no one had ever felt like Logan. No one had ever made him feel the way Logan did. With her, he felt settled. Calm. Whole.
* * *
Logan was trembling. She was so close...so close to coming but she couldn’t come. The two almost times in the bathroom had made it impossible to go over the edge. Instead she was restless and aching, everything inside her wound so tight that she couldn’t stop her legs and body from trembling.
Rowan’s mouth covered hers and his large, powerful body rode hers, but she felt almost frantic as the orgasm remained out of reach.
Her hands slid down his back to cling to his hips. She flexed her fingers against his firm butt, his skin so warm, his body creating friction everywhere—his chest against her breasts, his cock inside of her. And yet the friction was just that, delicious sensation, but she couldn’t reach the point that would give her relief.
She whimpered, muscles tight, need flooding her. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate to see if she could find relief, but his hard heat inside of her wouldn’t push her to that pinnacle.
“Rowan,” she pleaded, gripping his hips. “Rowan... I can’t...”
“You can.” And then he slipped his hand between them, finding her sensitive nub and one, two and the sensation focused and narrowed, tension building, tightening, until there was no turning back.
She shattered, and kept shattering, the orgasm going on and on as if it would never end.
In a distant part of her brain she registered Rowan’s deep groan, and his hard thrust, reaching release, before holding still, and just holding her.
She didn’t know how long they lay there, warm and spent. She was truly spent, too. Her eyes closed. She exhaled and was soon fast asleep.
Logan didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally opened her eyes because the room was swathed in shadows but it wasn’t completely dark outside. She must have slept a good couple of hours though because she’d been dreaming until just a few moments ago, and the dream was good. She woke up feeling happy.
Stretching slightly she shifted, and became aware of Rowan’s arm wrapped around her waist. She turned to look at him. He was awake and watching her. “Do you know what time it is?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.
“Almost time to get up,” he answered, kissing her forehead. “We’re having dinner with Jax soon.”
“We are?”
“Yes.”
“You make it all sound so normal. As if we’re a real family.”
“We are a real family, and it is our new normal,” he answered quietly, but there was no smile in his voice or eyes. His expression was somber. Even his green eyes looked dark.
We are a real family... And this is our new normal.
“We don’t feel like a family,” she said carefully, after a moment.
“Not yet maybe. But we will, with time.”
She stared into his eyes, wishing she could see past the beautiful dark green color, wishing she could see him. “I know nothing about you, you know. We’ve only had sex.”
“And a child.”
“But it’s really just been sex—”
“We did talk about your family earlier. It could almost be considered a real and meaningful conversation.”
She felt like punching him in the chest again. “So tell me about your family. Open up about your world. Have a meaningful conversation with me.”
“To be honest, I’d prefer to make you come again.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would.”
“Sex isn’t a bad thing,” he answered mildly, reaching out to stroke the swell of her breast and the firming nipple. “Sex creates life, and intimacy—”
“So does conversation, and sharing. And it’s your turn to share. Tell me more about your family. Where are your parents now? What happened to your father after he served time? Do you see either of them often? And why did you go into the military? What was its appeal?”
He rolled onto his back and drew her with him so that she lay on top of his chest. “I’d rather not talk about boring things when we can talk about us. Did you like seeing us together in the mirror? How did it make you feel to watch me take you?”
“We’re not discussing sex!” She shoved up, pushing away from his chest. “And you have to tell me something about you. I can’t keep sleeping with a complete enigma!”
“You can if you like him.”
“I don’t particularly like him.” She glared down at him, frustrated and yet aware that he was really handsome, and really appealing, and she could maybe see a future with him, but not as a married couple...rather, as lovers. Lovers that coparented. Or something of that nature. “And you have to share relevant things that I want to know. Otherwise, we can’t keep doing this.”
“Now you’re just punishing yourself. We both know you like doing what we do.”
She gave him a thump on his chest. “What were your parents’ names?”
He sighed. “Darius and Maire. He was Greek American and she was Irish American, but neither lived long in the US. My mother was from this area, and my father from Rhodes, Greece, and they both had strong accents, hers Irish, his Greek. They drank hard, they loved hard, they fought hard, and they seemed determined to make it work, even when Dad went to prison, but when my little brother died, the love died, leaving just hard drinking and lots of fighting.”
She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. “Do you remember Devlin?”
“Yes.”
“What was he like?”
“Sweet. Happy.” He paused, drew a breath. “Devlin was a truly happy little boy. He was always smiling. He had a huge laugh.” His voice deepened, roughened. “I remember I used to love to carry him because he smelled good. He still had that baby smell.”
Logan blinked back tears. “You must have taken his death so hard.”
Rowan didn’t answer but she felt the tension within him.
After a moment he said quietly, “Jax looks a lot like him. It’s a bit disconcerting. If I could find a picture of Devlin I’d show you.”
“I believe you.”
He smoothed her hair. “What else?” he asked after a moment. “What are you aching to know?”
She smiled at his choice of words. “Do you like having dual citizenship?”
“I had three passports at one point—Greek, Irish and American, but I tried not to travel with three. It’s confusing for border agents.”
The corner of her mouth curled higher. “And your parents? Are either of them still alive?”
He hesitated. “Dad died of lung cancer a couple years ago, and she has dementia but I go see her every week or so when I’m here.”
“She still lives near here?”
“Yes, she’s in a care facility just down the road.”
“You didn’t want her here?”
“She was here until six months ago when she escaped her minder and tumbled down the stairs.” He was no longer smiling. He looked tense and grim. “Her new home is top-notch and provides excellent care.”
“I’m not judging.”
He exhaled slowly. “No one wants to put their mother in a home. It doesn’t feel natural.”
Logan said nothing, sensing that he wasn’t done, and she didn’t want to stop him from saying more.
After a moment he shrugged. “I’d like to take Jax to meet her. You can come, too. But Mother rarely recognizes me these days. She thinks I’m that nice man who plays the piano for dancing.”
“Do you play the piano?”
“No. But she and my father met at a party and there was dancing, so maybe she thinks I’m my father.” His brow furrowed. “Or the piano player.”
Logan leaned up and kissed him. “They both sound like nice people,” she whispered, kissing him again. “And I think it’s a lovely idea to take Jax to see your mother.”
They ended up making love again and it was different than it had been so far, sweeter and calmer but emotionally more intense.
Logan felt connected to Rowan in a way she hadn’t felt before.
Maybe it’s because she’d had a glimpse behind the mask. She was grateful he’d shared with her, even though it was clear he didn’t like sharing. She was also touched that he’d tried to keep his mother with him, at Castle Ros, and that it had been a struggle putting her in a care facility.
Clearly he wasn’t all bad.
Clearly he was rather good...maybe even very good...
She held her breath, scared to admit to everything she was feeling. It was confusing and overwhelming. So much was happening but she wasn’t sure if any of this was right. She didn’t want to go through life on her own, a single mother forever, but at the same time, sharing Jax would mean relinquishing control.
It would mean trusting Rowan to do the right thing.
It would mean trusting that she would do the right thing.
It would mean compromising and yielding and sacrificing independence, too.
Could she do that? Did she even want to do that?
Which brought her back around to the issue of control. Control was such a huge thing for her because the loss of control always resulted in loss. As soon as she lost control, bad things happened. Without control she wouldn’t be able to protect herself, never mind Jax.
Panic building, Logan rolled away from Rowan. “Time to get dressed,” she said, rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom.
She was quickly gathering her clothes when Rowan followed her in. “I feel like you’re running away,” he said, blocking the doorway. “Why?”
“Not running away. It’s just getting late, and I need to shower and dress for dinner,” she answered, unable to look at him.
“Everything was fine and now you’re shutting down again—”
“I’m not shutting down!” she snapped, shooting him a fierce look. “And I’m certainly not running away, either. How can I run when you’ve brought me to your high-tech castle with bodyguards and security cameras and massive hedges everywhere?” Her voice cracked. “Look at me, Rowan! I’m naked in your bathroom with you blocking the doorway. I’m trapped.”
“You’re not trapped,” he retorted impatiently, moving toward her.
She retreated, moving away until she bumped into the thick glass shower enclosure. “No? Then what do you call this...” she gestured wildly at the shrinking space between them because he was coming toward her again, rapidly closing the distance. “You’re everywhere and you’re overwhelming and overpowering, and I can’t breathe or think or feel when you’re with me—” She broke off as he pressed himself against her, his knee between her legs, his hands capturing hers, pinning them to the glass above her head. “See?” she choked as his fingers entwined hers and his head dipped, his mouth on her neck, setting her skin on fire. “You’re doing it again...confusing me...overpowering me...making it impossible to think.”
“What do you need to think about, mo chroi?” he murmured, kissing higher, just beneath her earlobe. “And why do you need to fight me? We work, you and I. We fit.”
She shuddered against him, her breasts firming, nipples tightening as heat flooded her. She ached on the inside again, ached for him again. She loved the feel of him, loved it when he was in her, making her body feel so good, but he had the opposite effect on her head and heart.
He wasn’t good for her. He wasn’t right for her. He wasn’t what she wanted—
No, not true.
She wanted him, but that didn’t make it right. She needed a man who allowed her to be calm. She needed a man who made her feel safe—not safe in terms of keeping the bad guys of the world away, but safe emotionally. Safe as in loved.
He touched her and created energy and passion and excitement, but it was all so wild and dangerous.
And then he was kissing her, his lips on hers and there was so much heat and hunger that all the wild, chaotic emotion rushing through her slowed, thickened, turning to honey and wine in her veins.
He made her feel so much...
He made her want so much...
He made her want everything...and that included love. The more he touched her, the more pleasure he gave her, the more she wanted love.
His love.
Tears burned the back of her eyes, and her chest squeezed tight, her heart turning over. Making love made her want his love, and he was the first to admit he didn’t love. No, he just offered sex. Lots and lots of hot sex, but sex without love was empty, and it would hollow her out, leaving her empty.
“Your idea of a happy relationship is sex,” she answered, her voice faint. “But my idea of a happy relationship is love. Do you love me? Can you love me? Can you answer that?”
“When I touch you, do I make you feel good? When I hold you, do you feel desirable?”
“I want love and you want sex!”
“I want you, and I feel close to you through sex.” He swore, and he rarely swore. “Hell, I am close to you during sex. I’m in you, love. We’re as close as two people can be.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Sex can be a lot of things,” he added. “Tender, rough, sweet, aggressive. It changes, just as we change, but sex creates a bond, creating something we only have together.”
“But that’s the problem. I don’t want to bond through sex. I want love because love is the ultimate bond. It is the thing that keeps people committed when desire fades or someone is ill. If all we have is sex, what happens when sex isn’t available? Does the relationship end? Are we done? What will keep us together?”
“Jax,” he said promptly. “She’ll keep us together.”
She made a rough sound. “And what if something happens to her?” He said nothing and she searched his eyes, and she had the answer there.
Nothing would keep them together. Their relationship would end and the time they spent together would have meant nothing.
Logan shook her head. “This is why I keep repeating myself—I’m not settling. I’m not getting married for sex. If I marry, it will be because I’ve made a commitment for life to a man. That’s the only reason to marry. Because I want to be with him. Forever.”
His hands fell away. He stepped back.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Can I please dress now?”
He let her dress and go.
