Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (30 page)

BOOK: Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1)
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“I almost forgot. John Baker and Patrick Macy asked me to become a partner in the firm today.”

Chloe squealed so loudly and threw her arms around him so quickly, Logan fell onto his back.

“That’s so wonderful, Logan! I’m so proud of you!”

He laughed as he flipped her over onto her back.

“Are you excited? What does this mean? Do you get to choose your own projects now? Are you …”

“Hold up,” he shook his head as he continued to laugh. “I haven’t even accepted their offer yet.”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Why not?”

Logan’s eyes flashed worry. “It’s a great offer, but … I’m just not sure this firm is the right fit for me. Taking on a partnership role is a big deal and I don’t know that I want to commit to that just yet.”

Chloe swallowed tensely. If ever Logan’s commitment struggles showed, it was now. He had been offered the chance of a lifetime and he couldn’t even see past his issues to
take the leap.
As much as she wanted to point that out and give this jackass a kick in the butt, it wasn’t her place. Picking at the neckline of his t-shirt, she gave him a weak smile.

“You’ll figure it out.”

Sprawled out nude on a cashmere throw, Logan quickly got back on task.

With her hands bound high above her head with one of his silk ties and sightless from the same blindfold he had used on her before, she reveled in the mouth that began promptly feasting on her body. Logan’s whipped cream coated tongue danced on her clit only to then delve into her mouth to share the salty-sweet flavor.

Minou
was the only word whispered into her ear as piano notes tinkled all around them, followed by a deep growl teased her auditory senses. A chocolate covered strawberry pressed to her lips tempted her. Sticky, sweet fruit swirled around her nipples followed by a warm tongue enticed her. Her breast captured in the greediest of mouths excited her. Fingers inside of her commanded her. Panting. Moaning. Begging. The crinkle of foil. The snap of rubber. A nudge widening her legs. Pressure in the most sensitive spot. Body heat saturating her senses.

Stiffening in a reflex response to Logan’s unrestrained strength, sparks of excitement shot through her as he pushed deeper and thumbed her clit until she reached her climax. As a trembling thrill continued to race through her in the aftermath of her orgasm, she lay weakly beneath Logan while he continued to pump into her. When he flipped her over, pulled her to her knees and thrust into her from behind, the intensity so fierce that the muscles of her thighs and belly had no choice but to flex rhythmically with his movements. The unrelenting power of his surging body threatened to undo her again.

As if warring with himself to unleash his hunger and satisfy it, he pounded into her, grunting and mumbling incoherent half-sentences. Chloe tried to decipher the words of frustration coming from his mouth, but they were too jumbled and disjointed to make sense of them.

Another flip had her on her back again and the blind fold ripped from her eyes. With her legs spread wide, Logan maneuvered her onto her shoulder blades with her ass high in the air as he squatted above her to pile drive into her. The last song ended on the tape, leaving them to continue their quest for pleasure in silence. Over and over, he penetrated her until her voice became the music that echoed off the walls of the conservatory. Time and time again, he proved to her that he was a true engineer of not only architecture, but the human body as he contorted their bodies into innumerable positions of pleasure.

Just when she thought his overwhelming fucking would never end, his naked body stilled and hardened, and he claimed her with his release.

When he collapsed next to her and untied her wrists, she flushed as a rush of warmth flashed over her. Wordlessly, she rolled over and put her arms around his neck. She had never felt such an exhilarating response to any man and she feared she would never feel it again.

 

*

 

Surrounded by an aura of irresistible femininity, Logan lay next to Chloe on a cloud of shameless contentment. He had taken her over and she had acquiesced. He had given her nearly everything his body could without harming her, and she had complied. He had never been so enraptured with a woman before; so completely fascinated at her willingness to submit to him; so spellbound by the look of captivation in her eyes.

And so damned
terrified
.

 

*

 

With a little help, Chloe had managed to walk on her own to Logan’s car and up the flight of stairs to her apartment. It had taken minimal effort for him to undress her, again, and tuck her into bed. He had just pressed his lips to her forehead when a look strange look flashed over his rugged features.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Chloe’s throat tightened. Of course she wanted him to stay, but she feared saying so would send him running out the door. Their bond was tenuous, at best, and unstable, to say the least. Would she never be able to just say how she really felt about him, or would she always be walking on eggshells so as not to scare him away?

Without moving or speaking, she stared back at him.

He let out a deep breath and gave her a weak smile. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

While he undressed, Chloe reached for her phone on the nightstand as she recalled the old cassette that Logan had brought along. Listening to the music of his past had comforted her on some level, but now was the time to
communicate
again, and the only way she knew how was through their time-honored tradition of choosing the most appropriate current song.

Logan walked around her bed, tugged the blankets back and crawled in behind her. As the words and notes of
Nights Like This
floated around them, she pressed her back to his chest to sap a bit of the warmth from his body. The feeling of being overwhelmed by emotions suddenly overtook her and she had no idea where it was coming from. Maybe it was the song. Perhaps it was the intensity of their love making. Maybe it was the knowledge that this moment was fleeting and that Logan might never lie next to her again.

When her body began to shiver, he held her closer and whispered in her ear, “I’m here,
Minou
.”

He was, but for how long?

 

Chapter Thirty-One: Clear as Mud

 

H
ump Day was turning out to take on a whole new meaning for Chloe. Monday and Tuesday nights had been spent with Logan, and together they had proved to be almost more than her body could take. The
Adela
chair, in particular, had given her quite a work out. If she kept up this kind of activity with Logan, she wouldn’t need to do cardio at all.

With his home well on its way to looking more livable and his attitude having taken a somewhat better turn, she waited as he rummaged through his chest of goodies.

Up for another challenge, she had presented herself to him when he got home from work by lying bent over the spanking horse, with her bare ass exposed and raised high. True to form, he was eager and ready to educate her on its use.

She turned her head to fix your eyes on him, but when he caught her peeking, he gave her a
tsk tsk.
Like a good girl, she closed her eyes and waited.

She had finished painting and embossing his initials into the pedestal that afternoon, and after their little session of kinky time, Chloe intended to show him what was hidden within its ordinary façade. The excitement of presenting to him what he thought to be a simple piece of décor was almost too much to take, especially because she knew he hated surprises. But too bad. He would
love
this surprise.

Listening with her eyes closed as he set things out in preparation of pleasuring her, the same giddy feeling she’d experienced each morning waking up next to him fluttered in her belly. She could get used to a life like this. One where she felt needed and wanted. One where her lover’s eyes stayed riveted on her as if her words mattered. One where Logan spoke endlessly about creativity and things to come. One where she waited in aroused anticipation of his touch.

Craning her head in the opposite direction, she pried her eyes open to gaze at the St. Andrew’s cross. They had yet to experiment on it and she could hardly wait to experience all things that could be done on it. It wasn’t sitting in its final resting spot, but that made no difference. Wherever it was located, she would find enjoyment in it.

“This isn’t going to hurt.
Much.

Chloe lifted her ass, causing Logan to laugh. The breathy, sensual quality sent a shock wave of stimulation straight to her nethers.

“I know how much you enjoyed being paddled before, but this is going to feel a bit different. I just need you to hold still.”

Chloe nodded.

“I’m serious about this,
Minou
. It’s important that you not move,” Logan whispered as he leaned down into her ear.

“I understand,” she replied.

As if not convinced, he turned her face toward him. He lifted his hand to show her what was held within it—a flogger. She had seen photos of something similar, though the one Logan held seemed less intimidating and, somehow, appealing.

“I had planned on using this when the home was complete …,” he began, “well, you know the rest.”

She did. And she was ready.

With the first flash of the leather against her flesh, Chloe bit into the wood beneath her. It hurt, but not in a painful-she-wanted-it-to-stop kind of way. It stung in way that made her feel alive; in a way that made her want
more
; in a way that made her appreciate and respect Logan on a whole new level. He could have hurt if he had wanted, and she wouldn’t have protested. He could have—yet he didn’t. With each snap of the flogger on her ass and back, he made sure to comfort her and ensure that she was comfortable; that she wasn’t in too much pain; that she still wanted him to carry on. And, god, did she want him to continue.

On and on, over and over, he persisted with his savagely tender torture until she became so wet with arousal that she drenched the bench below her; until the moment she felt as if she was floating and drifting above herself; until a strange yet calming warmth wrapped itself around her, compelling her to tremble and cry out. Only then did Logan stop. Only then did he lift her in his arms and carry her to his bed without any expectations of repayment. Only then did she feel truly feel the depth of his compassion.

"I want more of that," she whispers against his lips when he laid her down in his bed.

"Oh, there will definitely be more."

As Chloe lay in Logan’s arms, aching body and all, the feeling that the other shoe was going to drop slowly subsided. Tucked underneath his comforter alongside of her, Logan’s breathing deepened and slowed until he was asleep. Pulling back to stare at him, she dragged her thumb across his lower lip. It was soft, yet firm—like his heart. His eyes fluttered with a dream, making her wish she could be inside his head to see the images that lay within his sleepy haze. When he mumbled her name, she pressed her lips to his to steal a kiss.

“I’m here, Logan,” she whispered against his mouth.

She could get used a life like this. No, she
needed
a life like this.

 

*

 

Chloe’s lips on another man. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Her mouth whispering words of desire into his ear. Her smile given freely to him. Her submission offered willingly to him.

Her sweet laugh aimed right at his own heart.

 

Logan woke angry and hurt. The dream had felt too real.
Too damned real
. And all too fucking familiar.

Abruptly, he sat up on the edge of his bed, his heart beating rapidly, the dream fresh in his mind and the sting of Chloe’s unfaithfulness as if it had just happened. He turned his head to gaze at her. She had rolled into the warm spot he had just arisen from, and in her half-asleep state reached a hand out for him, only to find an empty space next to her. But he didn’t give a damn. She had betrayed him. She had lied and shared her body with another man. Worse yet, she had given her heart away to someone who didn’t deserve it.

Glaring down at her, he cursed himself under his breath. It was just a damned dream.
Or, was it a premonition of things to come?

When her eyes fluttered open, she smiled up at him.

“I was dreaming about you,” she mumbled through a yawn.

“Ditto,” he griped as he jumped out of bed and grabbed his sweat pants. “Look, I have this thing Saturday. I meant to you ask earlier.”

Chloe immediately perked up. “
A thing
?”

“A nomination dinner.”

“Do I get to dress up?” She beamed.

“It’s a semi-formal event, so yeah,” he grumbled while pacing the room.

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and bounced up and down on the mattress. “So this would be like a real date where I get to meet your friends?”

Logan’s frayed nerves threatened to snap and his temper was ready to erupt.
Why the hell did she have to be so damned adorable?
She truly was fucking clueless. It was a combination that both snagged him in the chest and clawed at his resolve. She would love to call it a
date
, wouldn’t she? That would mean they were
dating.
To meet his friends and cozy up to all those assholes? That would make it easier for her to brush him off and stomp on his heart when she got bored with him, wouldn’t it?

Christ, why did it always come to
this
? Things had been so good all week with no mention of
dating
and they were fine. He’d deviated from his plan of keeping his distance and now it was biting him in the ass. But damn if it didn’t feel good waking up to her beautiful face every morning.

Logan rolled his eyes at himself.

Fuck that. Fuck
this.
Fuck it all. They
weren’t
dating. They were
fucking
.

 

*

 

“It’s not a
date.
I just thought it would be a good way for you to network. Everyone who’s anyone in this field will be there.”

And just like that, the other shoe had dropped. Unprepared for Logan’s frigid response and abrupt detachment, Chloe sat motionless, her lips upturned in an idiotic, frozen smile. The influx of blood to her cheeks and the sudden urge to cry left her reeling. But she wouldn’t cry. Not for
this guy.
The one who loved to keep her perched on a bed of eggshells. This grown ass man who couldn’t make up his mind about who or what he wanted. This mule of a man who made his intentions as clear as mud.

She was done.
Done.
She screamed the words to herself in silence, yet her heart refused to acknowledge them.

With her smile and hopes for anything other than a sexual relationship with Logan now a distant memory, she stared wordlessly back at him for what felt like an eternity before she stood and reached for her overnight bag.

“Well, can you go with me?” he asked as if he hadn’t just crushed her spirit.

“I have to check my schedule,” she whispered through blurred vision when she finally found the courage to speak.

“Your
schedule
?” he asked in shocked disbelief. “Where are you going?” he called out to her when she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and strode out of his room and down the stairs.

“Home. I’m waiting for a phone call from my parents,” she answered through a tear-smothered voice. To hide the tears hovering on her lashes, she quickly swung the door open and stepped out into the dark.

“And you can’t take that phone call here?” he asked as he stood at the top of the landing staring down at her.

“It’s a video call. And I wouldn’t want my parents to get the wrong idea about us.”

“Oh, yeah,” she barely him say as she shut the door behind her.

Chloe had no sooner climbed into the SUV when she yelled a string of obscenities. Half of them were aimed at Logan, the other half at herself. But she would
not
cry—not matter how badly she wanted to. When a tear leaked out and streamed down her cheek, she angrily swiped it away with the back of her hand, threw the car into reverse, and tore down Logan’s gravel driveway. As soon as the wheels hit pavement, she rolled down every window, and turned the radio to full blast. She
would not cry.
Her mind was always lost in the swimming future, and now was not the time to drown in her sorrows. The night was too beautiful, the scenery too magnificent, her life too blessed to feel sorry for herself. The time to tell herself that Logan would either come around or he wouldn’t, had passed.

With a dazzling leap of logic, she saw everything in perfect clarity, and knew precisely what she had to do.

 

****

 

Chloe had busted her ass trying to get as much done as possible on Thursday. With Logan’s office painted and the plans for his décor sketched out, it was simply a matter of a handful of man hours, or in her case—superwoman powers—to get everything into place. The extra hands had saved her at least half-a-dozen hours that day. After putting her interns to work, they had moved the patchwork chair and ottoman that Logan had purchased from her into the bungalow, and carried the St. Andrew’s cross into the spare room. With the rest of his furniture ordered and paid for, she felt a sense of accomplishment, even if it would be several weeks until everything was completed.

How she would keep away the enigmatic man who seemed to know exactly how to get her off, she had no idea. Hell, she didn’t even particularly feel like keeping him away. She liked him between her legs. Since apparently all he wanted was sex, why too shouldn’t she be allowed to be pleasured with nothing more in expectation?

Okay, so that was immensely delusional on her part considering how deeply she had grown to like him. Dare she say even
loved
him?
With a stomp of her foot on the floor, she yelled
no.
The last remaining intern glanced over at her with a perplexed look, making Chloe blush and shrug it off. This whole situation with Logan Damned Evans was making her act like a lunatic. It was bad enough the night before had been spent with emotional fits ranging from acceptance to denial to anger to near-sobbing.

As she looked around at the work accomplished, she was surprised she had been able to keep her head on straight enough to make his home look as damned good as it did. In the end, she might have failed at trying make this particular horse drink from her well, but at least she would leave an indelible mark on his home that even he couldn’t deny.

Physically exhausted from her productive day and emotionally drained from her incessant inner dialogue as to why she should or should not give Logan another chance, she gave in and collapsed onto his old loveseat. Logan wouldn’t be home for another hour, and she just wanted to rest. As she gazed down at the worn piece she was sitting on, she wondered how many women Logan had taken there. Dozens? More?

She ran her palm along the slightly dirty fabric and leaned her head back as she gazed up at the massive beams far above her. Light from one of the floor lamps barely reached the high ceiling and dark shadows fell against the stairs and second level. This home really was an accurate representation of Logan—prominent peaks, beautiful curves, hard lines, and dark shadows. She hated to admit it, but she had grown to love the House of Evans. It couldn’t be helped. She had learned so much there, including what kind of power she held. The power to create. The power to captivate. The power to please. But the one thing she wanted most, the power to
keep,
had slipped through her fingers.

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