Linger (23 page)

Scarlett was baffled and more than a little amused when he handed her a bright blue leather collar. “For you.”

“I think you might have this backward.” She arched an eyebrow, reached up to trace her fingers over his neck to make a point.

Huffing out an exasperated sigh, he waved the collar, pressing it into her hand. “It's not for you.”

Lips quirking up in a smile, Scarlett examined the strip of metal. Her heart thudded when she came to the tag that was attached to it.

It was likely another sample that companies liked to send to veterinarians. But he had taken the time to scratch the name “Six,” as well as Scarlett's cell phone number, into the metal with some kind of engraving tool.

Combined with the dance floor and the meal, now this simple, thoughtful gift . . . Scarlett was done for. And she wasn't about to revel in those feelings alone.

This was in no way just about sex anymore. Whatever he was still holding back, Scarlett was determined to win from him.

This man was a treasure. And no matter his reservations, she intended to keep him.

“I
'm very glad you don't cook like that every night.” Scarlett groaned as she collapsed on one end of the couch, kicking off
her shoes and then tucking her skirt beneath her legs even as she rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I'd get fat. And what would you do then?”

She meant it as a joke. Logan had settled himself on the other end of the couch, taking one of her feet in his hands. She moaned out loud when he began to work at the soles of her feet with his thumbs.

He paused in his movements long enough for her to look up from the hypnotic view of his moving fingers to his face.

“There would just be more of you to delight in serving.” His expression was so serious that Scarlett knew he wasn't joking, even though she had been.

He just kept flooring her, this wonderful, amazing man with so many twists and turns that he might as well have been a labyrinth.

“That's why I had to stop dancing.” The words fell from her lips before she could stop them, and she winced.

She didn't even like to think about that, herself. She certainly didn't make a habit of telling people.

“What?” Logan frowned, his brow furrowing.

Scarlett's cheeks flushed. Damn it, this was not what tonight was supposed to be about. But she couldn't just leave it hanging.

“I loved to dance.” Her voice was quiet. She still did—that simple thrill of bringing her body in tune to the music. “But I was a ballerina. And I didn't have the right shape.”

She'd had curves. Breasts and hips, even though her legs and arms had been willowy enough.

It had turned her world upside down to hear that then, and even now, it still pained her to admit it.

She dared a glance at Logan. His eyes flashed with indignation, and her pulse skipped a beat at his next words.

“You are perfect. Just the way you are.”

“You said you've never been in a real relationship,” she blurted, resulting in his touch on her feet again slowing to a stop. “Why? You're amazing.”

“I'm pleased that you think so,” he started to answer, then quieted again, his fingers moving in slow strokes while he thought.

“There are women in town,” Scarlett persisted. “I know you don't care for crowds, or for closed buildings. But look at you—you're a professional; you're caring; you're fucking hot as hell. Surely there are women who have caught your eye, who don't mind coming out here to see you.”

The pressure on her feet tightened just the slightest hint before relaxing again. Logan was silent for almost a full minute, and when he spoke it sounded like it took real effort.

“It's because of what I need.” His fingers began to trail from the sole of her foot to the inside of her ankle, tracing the lines of her calf, then up to the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Not every woman enjoys tying up and flogging their men.”

There was no censure in his tone; Scarlett knew he would never judge her for needing what she did, not when he had such deep needs of his own.

“No diversions.” Scarlett caught his fingers, twisted hard enough to catch his attention. He cursed, then went silent.

“I believe you might keep to yourself because of your need for kink. But that's only part of it, isn't it?” She waited. Logan remained silent. “You were in the army. I think something happened while you served overseas. Am I right?”

More silence.

“Logan.” She rubbed her fingers over his hand. “I want to know. I want to learn every part of you. And I could probably find out just by going online. But it means nothing if it hasn't come from you.”

He shifted, hesitating. Scarlett held her breath.

“Yes, something happened.” Then they expelled deep breaths in tandem, eyeing each other warily. “Something happened to make me need a quiet life, under an open sky. Working with animals helps. Like . . . kind of like therapy.” He stopped. Scarlett wanted to push him further.

But something told her that pushing with words wasn't going to do a thing.

Maybe it was time to revert to pushing with her body again. If she had to break down the physical to get to the soul, then that was what she would do.

Nimbly, she slid her leg from his grasp, slid off the couch. He grabbed for her, and she cast him a glare. “Mind your manners, sub.”

And with just those words, the air in the room changed. She watched Logan's pupils dilate, saw him become more aware of her, a sub to his Domme.

In response, her spine straightened, and though she was wearing a flirty pink skirt, she felt as powerful as she did in leather and heels.

Casting a warning look his way, she turned to the stereo and switched off the radio station that had played throughout their dinner.

Sifting through his CDs, she grimaced. “Don't you have anything but country?” she called back over her shoulder. Ugh. So not what she had in mind.

Then her fingers found one disc that wasn't adorned with a man in cowboy boots or a woman with big hair.

“Bingo.” Sliding it into the stereo, she heard the soft whir of the disc spinning to life. She turned back to Logan as the first notes of a driving rock song pounded out, the music loud enough to have a corresponding beat pounding in her blood.

Slowly, confidently, she made her way back across the
room, making sure to exaggerate the roll of her hips with every step.

He was now sitting straight up on the couch, hands flat on his lap, eyes taking in her every movement.

Straddling his legs, she toyed with the hem of her shirt.

He clasped her around the waist, fingers sliding beneath the silky fabric to find her skin.

Lifting his hand to her lips, she nipped at his fingers in warning.

“You haven't earned that touch yet,” she informed him, then swiveled her hips before settling down onto his lap to dance.

His cock was immediately hard, pressing against the silken heat of her panties as she undulated on him. He growled, and she saw his knuckles go white as he fisted them at his sides in an effort to keep his hands to himself as she had ordered.

She suspected it would be like this between them for as long as they were together—him pushing her, never surrendering until she had worked for it. Her reining in the attitude that made him who he was, only to have it come through again, after.

She loved it.

When she slowly peeled her shirt over her head, letting him see her breasts displayed in her simple but pretty black bra, she watched frustration take him over.

“Let me fuck you.” His words were arrogant, designed to shock her out of the game she was playing. Shaking her head, she backed up a bit, putting distance between them.

“No.” Reaching behind her back, Scarlett slowly released the hooks of her bra. Letting the straps fall, she caught the garment against her breasts before it fell to the floor, and Logan groaned.

“Please let me touch you.” Beneath the cockiness, he looked shaken, though whether it was because he'd managed to share something from his past with her, or because she was teasing him, she wasn't sure.

But she wasn't done. Until he was a mindless, aching bundle of need, she wasn't done.

Calling on her years of dance training, she let herself get lost in the music, every sway of her body made all the more sensual because Logan was watching.

She let her bra fall to the floor.

She slid out of her skirt.

She hooked a finger in one side of her panties, cocked a hip, ran her tongue over her lips as she looked Logan in the eye.

He had undone his pants, and his erection rose from his lap, tall and thick and already wet at the tip. Bending until she could just swipe her tongue over it once, she smiled slowly.

“Looks like you have a bit of a situation here.” She kicked his feet apart, came to stand between them, knew he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “What do you want, Logan?”

“I want you to stop being such a cock tease.” Goaded past the point of control, he grabbed her waist, ripped her panties right off her body with a ferocity that made liquid surge between her thighs.

Taming this wild beast was the absolute hottest thing she ever would have been able to dream up.

“Let me fuck you, Scarlett.” Pulling her close, Logan buried his face in the curve of her belly. The soft scrape of his stubble woke nerves all over Scarlett's skin.

She pushed at his chest until he was forced to lean back into the couch. Grinning as she pulled a condom from his pocket and sheathed him with it, she slowly lowered herself
onto his erect cock, gasping as she struggled to work her way down, to take all of him in.

“Haven't you learned yet?” she cried out when she finally managed to take him in to the hilt, when the tight pressure of his testicles rested against the curve of her ass. His hands found her hips, dug in, rocking her in his lap.

“You don't fuck me, Logan Brody.” Short of breath, she began to move, taking them both to the edge of release fast. “
I
fuck
you
.”

A
fterward they lay twined in Logan's bed, naked and with the sweat on their skin cooling in the breeze from the overhead fan. Well,
their
bed—most of Scarlett's belongings had migrated to Logan's room, since by that point she spent most nights in it.

Logan's limbs were clumsy with sleep as he pulled Scarlett close to him. She had ruthlessly stomped all of his misgivings about telling her as much as he had into submission with her striptease, and even though it left him feeling naked, he admired her for it.

As he crept farther toward sleep, he thought that maybe that was why he was finally able to submit to a woman—because he'd found a woman capable of bringing him to his knees.

And when she was with him, the nightmares stayed farther away.

She shifted beside him as he was on the final edge of slumber, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. His unconscious took over, and he grabbed for her, finding her hand and pulling it tight.

“Don't leave.” He flinched even as the words came out of his mouth, and he blinked his way back to full consciousness.

He hadn't intended to say that, especially since she was probably just getting up to use the bathroom.

But rather than freezing up, or running away, or ridiculing him, Scarlett stopped and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“I'm not going anywhere.” He felt her eyes on him, contemplative.

Hot with embarrassment, he avoided eye contact as she sat on the edge of the bed, then reached for the wooden jewelry box she'd placed there days earlier. He listened to the sounds of metallic clinks, the slithering of serpentine chains, as she sorted through it, wondering what she was doing.

Craning his neck, he lifted his head in time to see her pull a cuff bracelet from the sparkling depths of the box. Simple and silver, the band was about half an inch thick all the way around, with an interlocking clasp to hold it in place.

His heart stuttered when he realized what she was about to do.

“I would like to give this to you.” Scarlett's voice was deceptively light, but Logan understood without the words being said.

She wasn't just offering to let him wear her bracelet as a token of friendship, or even as anything so simple as a promise ring, though it was, in fact, a promise.

This bracelet was the equivalent of a temporary collar in their world—a way for the world to see that she had marked him as hers. Not as serious as an engagement ring or a formal collaring ceremony, she was still offering him a promise.

If he would give himself into her care, then she would take care of him.

“You don't have to.” Quickly, Scarlett folded her fingers over the shining silver, hiding it from view. Even in the shadows of the dim room, he could make out the flush on her cheeks. “It was presumptuous of me. I'm sorry. I—”

Logan reached for the bracelet before she could close her hand all the way, catching hold of the metal. It was cool in his palm, a sharp contrast to the heat of Scarlett's skin.

“Will you put it on me?” He shouldn't; he knew he shouldn't. But in that moment, a force of nature couldn't have stopped him from trying to get that circle of metal—that promise—around his wrist.

Silently, her eyes large and luminous in the low light, Scarlett opened the bracelet, which hinged on the side. Placing it around his wrist, she then clipped it closed. Since it was made to be a loose bangle on her, it fit his wrist snugly.

It would be a constant reminder of her throughout his day, and the thought made warm light spread through the dark places inside of him.

Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it again without speaking. It was rare for Logan to see his Mistress at a loss for words, and that he was the cause of it overwhelmed him.