Текст книги "Crush "

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

“Why swans?” she asked.

I’d done my research and grinned at the fact that I knew the answer. “They were inspired by the opera Lohengrin, in which real-life swans pulled a boat carrying a knight on a mission to rescue a beautiful maiden. Paget couldn’t use the real swans, so he decided to camouflage his boat operators with the shape of a much-larger-than-life swan made from copper.”

“I love the romantic notion behind it.”

Romance was never my thing, but if she thought this was romantic, who was I to tell her otherwise? I pointed to the platform of waiting people. “Riding on one is a rite of passage here in Boston.”

“Then by all means, lead the way, my knight.”

More excited than a boat ride should have made me, I smiled at her. “I’m not sure I’m a knight by any definition.”

She tugged on my hand. “Well, you’re mine.”

I didn’t respond to that. I couldn’t. I was no knight. I still wasn’t sure I would be able to protect her in the way she needed protecting. A change of topic felt best. “So it’s probably best that I confess right now that I’ve never ridden on one.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “You said it was a rite of passage.”

My shrug might have been a little cocky. “It is, but I’m a half-breed Bostonian so it doesn’t apply to me.”

She got a little flirty and took the lead, leaping in front of me. “It doesn’t apply to me either then, but I’m still going to board first and beat you to the title.”

I laughed. “I’ll let you have this one.”

“Last call,” the operator yelled and we both picked up the pace, speeding to the pavilion, where I quickly paid the nominal fee and we crossed the wooden platform.

We were the last ones on, so we had to sit in the back row. That was fine with me. With my arm around her shoulder, the boat started toward the southern end of the lagoon and then slowly circled the edge. It was quiet and relaxing, almost making my life feel a little normal.

“Can I ask you something?” Elle whispered.

Calm and steady for the first time in so long, my gaze slid her way. “Yeah, sure, anything.”

“When I was at your apartment in New York, you had photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge on your walls. Why?”

An emotion I’d buried deep within myself long ago wormed its way up. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. “It’s stupid really.”

Her chin was on my shoulder and her breath was a whisper. “Tell me.”

I turned my head to see her. “When I was a sophomore in college, I took a photography class and one of our assignments was to photograph something that represented hope to us. I picked the Brooklyn Bridge. Having grown up being shuffled between the Upper East Side and Beacon Hill, my hope was that someday I’d find a place I could call home.”

The feel of her hand on my back was comforting as she rubbed it. I’d never had this from any other woman, not even my mother. “That makes sense. But why Brooklyn?”

I loved that she cared to ask, but I shook my head. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

My eyes met hers and I felt like I could share anything with her. “My college roommate in my freshman year was from there and he used to take me home with him once in a while. His family had a huge loft and they seemed really happy there. Everything appeared so simple. I guess I kind of envied that kind of life.”

She kissed my cheek. “I think we both yearn for the stability we never had in our lives. For me, my hope came in the prospect of visiting a new place, like maybe this would be it, a place I could call home; for you it came in the form of a bridge. I get it.”

Straightening my back, I pulled her to me. “Yeah, I guess we are a lot alike.”

The rest of the ride was nothing earth shattering, but being beside her and doing something out in the open that new couples do made it feel like so much more.

Just as the boat began to pull back to the platform, I placed my hand on her thigh and then whispered, “Can I follow you home and bid you a proper good night?”

She snorted laughter, either at the old-fashioned way I asked the question or the fact that I asked at all. “I’m not sure.”

My fingers squeezed her thigh and my other hand cupped her shoulder as I leaned even closer, close enough so that I was touching her ear with my lips. “What aren’t you sure about? How good I’m going to make you feel or waiting to get home to have me?”

She shifted in her seat, and I leaned back and watched as her cheeks flushed. “Logan!”

“What?” I shook my head as if innocent, giving her a sideways smile. Before me, Elle wasn’t big on sexual innuendos or anything to do with sex for that matter, other than the act. She hadn’t allowed talking and didn’t do repeats. We were both very similar and very different in that respect. I didn’t do repeats, but the only way I had of connecting with women was by talking during sex.

Her tongue snuck out and licked her bottom lip. “Be a gentleman.”

With a shrug, I smirked, “I tried that, but when I asked if I could see you home and it got me nowhere, I had to up my game.”

The boat docked before she could say anything and as we were in the last row, we were ushered out first. I passed by her, and stepped up and then offered my hand.

She smiled at me. It was a sexy, playful smile, but it still revved me up. When her feet were on the platform and we were safely out of the way of others, she grabbed me by my belt loop and tugged me flush to her. “Being a gentleman isn’t getting you nowhere, not by a long shot,” she purred.

My smile was wide and I could feel every heartbeat in my cock.

It looked like I’d be seeing her to her door, and inside her door, and up her stairs, and then all the way to her bed.

Who knew—just maybe I was a gentleman after all.

DAY 16

ELLE

My heavy lids fluttered at the incessant singing of birds outside my window.

Squinting, I pried my eyes open.

It was early, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. I had way too much on my mind. Still, today was a day to dread and I wished sleep would pull me back in.

With a small sigh, I rolled over and then couldn’t help but smile when I saw the man I had come to love in such a short period of time sleeping soundly beside me.

Our relationship hadn’t had a conventional start. We’d met under less than ideal circumstances. A situation neither of us had chosen to be involved in.

At first when we met, I thought we were on opposite sides, but I soon found that wasn’t the case. And in the midst of the turmoil, we were drawn to each other in the most intimate of ways. Although we tried to fight the magnetic pull, we couldn’t. Shortly after meeting, we sought comfort in each other, and soon discovered it was a comfort we’d never felt with another.

The man I silently called my protector, my white knight, stirred at my slight movement but didn’t wake. Exhaustion must have taken its toll.

The sight of him, all long, muscled limbs and smooth skin, curled my fingers in anticipation of touching him. Guilt held me off. I knew he hadn’t slept through the night in days. Worry over me had consumed him. Sure, he played a good game. Made like everything was going to be okay, but I could see beneath his tough exterior to the gentle, terrified man beneath.

Logan McPherson had been raised in two worlds. Shuffled between the wealthy elite of New York City and the brutish Irish Mob of Boston, he had become a man with two sides. The one seen by most was the dauntless, strong, confident man who knew how to take care of himself and everyone around him.

The protector.

The other side, the one he camouflaged, was a man who was drowning in the sins that surrounded him. Only through small glimpses had I seen the toll the violence that surrounded him had taken over the years.

The victim.

All I could do was be there for him and hope that with Tommy Flannigan in jail, all the chaos would soon be put to rest so he could begin to heal.

Placing a soft kiss on the scar beneath his eye, I carefully slipped out of bed. As soon as I tugged his white button-down on, his clean, fresh scent assaulted me and I had to turn back for another glance.

Hair the color of expensive milk chocolate that he wore brushed forward looked slightly more rumpled than usual. Where normally his beautiful hair feathered against his forehead and cheeks, now it was sticking out everywhere.

Bed head suited him, though.

The sheet had fallen away and my eyes greedily scanned his body from the twin dark circles of his nipples, to the ridges of his ribs, down to the narrow cut of his waist, and then stopped on hip bones that jutted out beneath the sheet.

Long and lean.

Powerful and strong.

Dauntless.

Covered by the soft cloth was all the rest of his magnificence, but also covered was the scar that ran down the inside of his thigh. That one, along with the scar under his eye, was a constant reminder of the danger he faced when in the presence of a woman, which was the source of his constant worry over me.

My worries were on many things, that included, but I tried to downplay it for his sake. Although I was confident I could take care of myself, I was also certain Logan would keep me safe. Besides, the state-of-the-art security systems Miles had installed in my house and boutique made them both seem impenetrable.

With those grounding thoughts in my mind, I tiptoed out of the room. The house was quiet, with pearly dawn light peeking through the blinds as I made my way down the stairs.

The row house, which had been in foreclosure when I first laid eyes on it and then managed to purchase with Michael’s help and by mortgaging it to the hilt, backed up to a small park, and it was a place I had to have. To me it was the first place I could call home.

In the early hours of the morning everything around me was peaceful and quiet. The soft gurgle of the coffeemaker was the only sound to break the silence. As I waited patiently for the pot to brew, I stared out the kitchen window into the small park behind me. My eyes drifted to anything that might take my mind off what today was. The dread was beginning to loom and I wanted to lose myself in something else, even if only for a little while.

The dew that coated the grass.

The trees that were starting to sprout leaves.

The purple horizon with a small yellow glow popping over it.

Strong arms gripped the lip of the sink on both sides of me, caging me in. The feel of his stubbled cheek against the sensitive skin of my neck sent tiny fissures of excitement through my veins. “Good morning. You’re up early,” he said in that sleepy, sexy voice that made my stomach flip in excitement every time I heard it.

With the air around me suddenly feeling thicker, I leaned back against his strong bare chest and twisted my head so I could kiss him. “Good morning. I tried not to wake you up.”

His lips brushed mine and electricity flared through me. “You shouldn’t be up either. Come back to bed.”

Not a question, a command, laced with a whole lot of promise.

I found myself licking my lips. “I don’t have a lot of time. I need to be at the police station at nine and then to Michael’s by ten so we can ride to the service together.”

His hands whisked under the hem of my shirt and went right between my thighs. “We don’t need a lot of time.”

Oh, God.

His hands, his fingers, they were magic. The shudder of my breath officially became louder than the residual dripping of the coffeemaker. “What did you have in mind?” I teased. This distraction was more than welcoming before the start of what I knew would be a dreadful day.

Hot breath blew in my ear. “I want to make you feel good,” he paused as he pressed his palm against my sex, “right here.”

My eyelids fluttered for the second time this morning, but this time for an entirely different reason. He knew how to rev me up. That was for sure.

When we first met, I had two rules when it came to sex—no talking and no repeats. One failed relationship had left me burned and I wasn’t interested in another. But with Logan, everything changed and those rules went right out the window. It might take me a while to truly push through my childhood issues, but Logan was being patient. The memories of hearing my father tell my mother he had to be inside her almost every night for years was strong within me. However, the memory of how much she disliked the act was stronger. And the truth was, what Logan and I were doing was mutually pleasurable. We both gave as much as we took.

Knowing this, I was trying to compromise and found myself more than okay with the way Logan chose to let his emotions out. I sometimes found it embarrassing. I called it dirty talk. He preferred the term communicating. The simple fact was that even though I’d come to embrace this part of who he was, Logan knew my limits, and after learning about my aversion he had been careful never to say those words my father said to my mother. His efforts to tread lightly warmed my heart. I found them endearing and charming and sexy as hell all at the same time.

Fingers fondled me in the most delicious way, and then he slid one a little lower. “And right here.”

The stroke of his flesh against mine, and the rumble in his voice, sent my body into overdrive. “Go on,” I whispered breathlessly, pressing myself back against his hot, thick erection.

His breath caught and he had to suck in air before he said, “I don’t think I need to explain any further—you’re already dripping wet.” On his last word, he plunged that single probing finger deep inside me.

The tension in my lower belly coiled so tightly, I thought if he moved a little more or added one more finger, I just might come right here.

But he didn’t. Instead, he kept teasing me.

Unable to withstand the torture another moment, I turned around. For a moment, the world stopped spinning and it was just he and I, and what we felt for each other.

With a smile that I couldn’t help, I ran my hands up his bare, smooth chest. He was standing there in black boxers, body ripped with strength, lids heavy with desire, eyelashes thick, those hazel pools bright and those lush lips parted. My hands reached his shoulders and then my nails dragged down his back. I thrilled at the feel of his rock-hard muscles under my fingertips. I never wanted to stop touching him.

Logan pressed against me. Backing me up against the sink, his leg eased between mine. My heel hooked around his leg, drawing him even nearer. His mouth was greedy on my neck, sucking, licking, kissing. My fingers were in his hair, caressing, tugging, pulling. We were all mouths and hands and tangled limbs.

“Take me back to bed, unless we’re staying down here,” I demanded impatiently.

His smile was wicked and wild, and without hesitation he took my hand and led me back up the stairs.

My guess was fifty-fifty as to whether he’d fuck me on the counter or on my mattress. There were times he was soft and gentle and we made love. And there were times he was wild and raw and we fucked like animals. Most of the time, I allowed his mood to determine the pace we took and at other times, I directed it.

Today, I was leaving it up to him.

We passed the threshold into my room and he kicked the door shut behind us. As soon as I heard the click of the latch his mouth was on mine. Our bodies melded in the perfect way that only we fit together. Not holding back, he started backing me up. Our kisses were hungry, deep. Delicious.

Slow steps were taken in sync until my knees hit the bed, and then somehow the two of us made it onto the mattress without either of us crashing down.

At first he was hovering over me but within moments we were rolling, and then I was on top of him and my knees were straddling his hips, squeezing them, letting him know just how much I wanted him. Moving quickly, he unbuttoned my shirt—his shirt—and discarded it. And then his hands were on my breasts, pinching my nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and fingers in a way that made them instantly hard.

Leaning down, I let my tangle of messy hair tickle his bare chest as I kissed my way up to the curve of his jaw. Stopping along the way to nip and bite where I saw fit.

With a hiss, he growled, “Watch it. Two can play at that game.”

I sat up straighter and grinned at him. The upward curve of my lips was an undeniable, come-and-get-me smile.

At thirty, I’d only recently come to learn just how affected my body could be by small things, like how a little bit of pain could make the pleasure all the better. Small things, nothing too extreme. If I was sitting on the lip of my old-fashioned tub with his face between my legs, the tighter I gripped the rim, the more the lip rubbed against my skin, the more intense my orgasm. Or if Logan held my hands over my head while he fucked me, the inability to move and the tight grip around my wrists sent me spiraling. And then there was the way he could bring me to the edge and deny my tipping over it until I thought I might go crazy. I wasn’t looking to use whips and chains or anything like that, but a small bite here or there certainly was fun.

His hiss morphed into a groan when I struck first. Inching back, my hands drifted to the black fabric that separated us and I pressed down on it. With the feel of his erection beneath my fingertips, I stopped playing around and rocked forward.

Logan’s eyes shined with desire. He, too, had obviously decided to abandon the games, because he shot up and pulled me on his lap.

“You have too much on,” I whispered and rose on my knees.

Doing the same, he tugged down his boxers with quick efficiency, kicking them off and onto the ground in no time. Finally, both of us were naked and ready for this.

Heartbeats apart, we were both on our knees gazing at each other. When my eyes cast down onto his perfectly erect cock, I licked my lips.

He noticed my response and then in one of the most erotic moves I’d ever seen, he took his cock in his hand and held it for a beat of two.

My heavy breathing gave way to how much it turned me on.

His eyes watched me as he gave himself a little stroke. “You like that?”

I nodded, my breathing coming way too fast—I was practically panting.

Logan dipped his chin to look down, and then he stroked himself again, this time pushing his hands forward and thrusting his cock into his fist.

In a rush, I moaned his name. “Logan.”

With a desperation only I understood, he quickened his pace.

Fascinated, I watched, taking notice of the way his muscles corded in his arms, the smooth skin of his cock and the way his hand easily glided over it, the pre-cum that glistened on his tip.

But my show was not for long because before I knew it, he’d stopped stroking himself and started stroking me with that cock, that delicious cock that was still in his hand. My clit pulsed and my muscles clenched in response. Full of need, my eyes found his.

“Come closer,” he said, and I did.

Lowering himself so his knees were now beneath him, he grabbed my hair as soon as I leaned in, pulled me onto his lap, and then captured my mouth with his. Giving me hard, wet, breathtaking kisses that made it impossible to breathe.

When I pulled back, my hands moved to his face. His hair had fallen forward and he looked rakish—impossibly sexy—as I pushed it from his eyes.

Logan didn’t waste any time as he gripped my hips.

My desire for him was so fierce I was wet long ago. There wasn’t any need for any further foreplay. Rising slightly on my knees, I lowered myself down onto his lap. Onto his cock. Slowly. Inch by inch. A little at a time. Exquisite pleasure started to surge all the way from my core. I didn’t stop until he was fully inside me. For a moment, I didn’t move, wasn’t sure I could without coming.

Logan took over for me, surging his body upward and taking control of mine with his hands on my hips. I drew in a shuddering breath and wrapped by arms around his neck. He pumped slowly at first and I found myself leaning in to kiss his mouth. I kissed him hard, and he returned my kiss with the same strength. We were all lips, teeth, and tongue. Wild. Frantic. And soon the energy transferred to our bodies. He started to fuck into me, faster, faster still. Abandoning the kissing, I pushed myself upright and began to ride him, matching his pace.

Cries of pleasure sputtered from his throat, rough, gravel-like, filled with a rumble. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. That’s so good. That’s it. Oh, fuck, I’m going to come.”

Words that sent me right over the edge.

He pumped faster and faster and I followed in that rhythm that existed only between us. Unable to hold on any longer, I arched my back and closed my eyes. Pleasure filled the space in my head where my mind no longer was. In the space that should have held thoughts was nothing but flickering lights, small bright stars in a far distance, and colors of the rainbow. I rode out my orgasm in that place, not allowing coherent thoughts to reenter my mind until I had exhausted every ounce of pleasure that was coursing through my body from head to toe.

He murmured my name. My heart, which was already pounding, skipped a beat. Without opening my eyes yet, I answered with his name. “Logan,” I breathed.

In response, he rolled onto his side and his hands found mine. Lacing our fingers, he pulled me flush to his chest. “Come here.”

At the sound of his voice again, I opened my eyes and looked at him. If it was possible for your heart to be so full of love for someone that you felt it might explode, that’s how I was feeling. We hadn’t expressed our love in words since that dreadful night, but we both knew how the other felt. Those three little words didn’t always have to be spoken for someone to know it. Besides, how many times were those words spoken among people in an empty, meaningless way? “I love you” could be said without really meaning it. But showing it, that meant everything.

Satisfaction filled the air. We were both breathing loudly when Logan propped himself up on his elbow. I turned as well, folding my arm under my pillow.

Gently, he ran his fingers through a stray piece of my hair that had fallen to the side. When he tucked it behind my ear, he sighed. “I want to come with you today to your sister’s funeral.”

Treading cautiously, I grasped his hand tighter and brought it to my lips. “Logan, you know you can’t.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there—I did. But those calls frightened me and I didn’t know what they meant but knew they had something to do with Michael and I. For now, Logan and I would have to remain a secret.

Taking his hands from mine, he flopped onto his back and put them behind his head. “I want you to tell him.”

I moved closer, stroking my fingers over his chest. “You know I want to, but the calls are freaking me out. What if they have something to do with Michael? Or what if when I tell Michael that I’m involved with someone, with you, it doesn’t go over very well?”

Logan was quiet at first, and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

“Hey,” I whispered.

Instead of answering, he looked over at me with a blank expression on his face.

“Michael not knowing about us doesn’t change anything. You know that, right?”

He scowled. “Yeah, sure I do. It’s just, it’s bad enough we have to be concerned about being seen in public. I hate that you have to tiptoe around him because you’re worried about him finding out.”

“Logan, even if the calls weren’t an issue, it’s too soon to tell him. Too close to everything that has happened. Think about it: what if I did tell him and then he started thinking about the drug bust? He’s not stupid; he could figure things out.”

Logan ran his hand down his face. “Even if he did, what does it matter? It’s not like he’s going to go to the cops.”

I willed my racing heart to slow down as I sat up and pulled the sheet with me. It was time to be honest. “Logan, I haven’t told you everything that happened those first three days we were apart that first week.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The threat of Clementine being kidnapped wasn’t the only reason I agreed to help Michael.”

Practically his entire body went taut. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly enough to keep his anger at bay. “It’s not what he did. It’s what he said earlier that same night he asked me for his help.”

“You mean the night when he asked you to commit a felony,” Logan said through gritted teeth.

“Logan, we’ve discussed—”

He held up a hand. “Just go on.”

I flinched at the coolness in his tone. “Well,” I stuttered before pulling myself together and just spilling it. “He alluded to the possibility that he could cut me out of Clementine’s life, forbid me from seeing her. And Logan, I can’t allow that to happen. You have to understand, I can’t do anything that might jeopardize my role in her life.”

Logan sat up abruptly. “What the hell are you talking about? He knows how much you love her. Why would he do something like that?”

Emotional warfare, I thought but didn’t say out loud. That would really send him reeling. My fingers curled into my palms as I spoke. “Before he told me anything about his plan, he let me know he was going to report Lizzy missing and then file for divorce. Then he said he thought it would be a good idea with everything going on if he named Erin as Clementine’s guardian.”

“His sister, the one with four kids? Not you? I don’t—” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, and clenched his fists. “Did he blackmail you?”

I shook my head. “No, not exactly. He was much more subtle about it. He started with the guardianship and then moved on to what he really wanted. He tried to convince me that Clementine’s safety was in jeopardy and that was why I needed to help him. But I saw through his words. The reason he told me about possibly naming his sister as Clementine’s guardian was so that if the kidnapping threat wasn’t enough to make me say yes, the hope of ensuring my place in Clementine’s life would be. And it worked, because I did help him. I had to. For her.”

Logan was up and out of bed faster than I could blink. Punching his legs into a pair of track pants that were folded on top of my dresser, he yanked them up and then started pacing the room. “You understand for any guardianship to be invoked something would have to happen to Michael, so all of his talk is a bunch of presumptive bullshit.”

The lawyer in him was taking over.

“I do understand that, but it was more than just the dangling of awarding me possible guardianship. There was an undertone to his words.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tangling my fingers together, I admitted what I hadn’t even really admitted to myself. “I just got the feeling that he was giving me a choice to make and if I made the wrong one, he was going to cut me out of Clementine’s life altogether.”

Logan slammed his fist against the wall. “Motherfucking piece of shit. That’s it. I’m done with this charade.”

“Logan, calm down. Please don’t do anything stupid. Don’t jeopardize what I have with my niece,” I begged.

The pacing started back up. “And the fundraiser, did you go to that under the duress of a threat as well?”

I shook my head. “No, he asked me to go with him as a favor. I didn’t say yes until I got that first call.”

The muscle in Logan’s jaw twitched.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place. I knew how you’d react.”

He stopped at the foot of the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “Knew how I’d react to the man you’re spending so much time with threatening you? Using an innocent child as a pawn? A man who might be a killer? How should I react? Sit down and have a drink with him?”

I threw my hands up. “Logan, stop it. You have to calm down. Michael has all the cards. I have to play by his rules. And if you do anything that pisses him off, makes him doubt my loyalty to him, he will cut me out of her life, I know he will.”

Hands on his head, he paced. After a few moments his breathing seemed to relax. “So you did what he asked. Has he done what he underhandedly dangled before you and named you her guardian yet?”

I shook my head. “That wasn’t something he actually said he would do.”

“Did he name his sister?”

“I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed any of this since that night.”

“Fucking son of a bitch.” His mouth quivered, that’s how angry he was. “You have to trust me when I tell you, he’s dangerous.”

My feet reached for the floor and I stood on the rug that used to belong to my mother. “No, he’s not dangerous. He’s manipulative. There’s a difference.”

Logan took the two steps between us in one stride and gripped my arms. “No, Elle, in his case, there’s not.”

I sighed in exasperation. “Please don’t start with the you think he killed my sister talk again. He might be many things, but he’s not a killer.”

Logan drew in a breath and huffed in frustration. “I know how important Clementine is to you and how important keeping her in your life is, Elle, but you have to start thinking more clearly.”

This conversation was going nowhere. “I have to get ready,” I said and started to walk toward the bathroom.

Logan grabbed my wrist. “I’m going with you today.”

Determination showed in my face when I spoke. “No, Logan, you’re not.”

With certain gentleness, he let go of my wrist and grabbed some clean clothes. “Fine. I’ll stay out of sight but I’ll be there, and then tomorrow I’m going to see Tommy to find out what the hell he, Lizzy, and O’Shea had going on.”

“Logan, no, you can’t go see him. It’s too dangerous.” My pleas went unheard.

The door was slamming behind him before I could even voice my concern. Two seconds later I heard the hallway bathroom door slam as well.

I hated this.

I wanted to talk reasonably.

But we both needed to calm down.

Listening to the water run, I knew he’d be showered and out of the house before I even took my bath.

Talking would have to wait.