Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (19 page)

After he pulled her shoes off and placed a blanket over her, he went back to the kitchen to put their dinner in the refrigerator. The time was nearing nine o’clock, but he was wide awake. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Chloe was sleeping in the next room, or maybe it was the changes that were happening so quickly within his house.

When he couldn't take the silence any longer, he went into the master en suite and ran a bath. When it was ready, he crept into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed. After pushing the hair away from Chloe's face, he stole a kiss. Without doubt, it was wrong of him to do in her slumbered state, but her pull was irresistible. He imagined that
pull
must have been what Prince Phillip felt when faced with Sleeping Beauty. It was ironic considering that the one and only time his mother had read him the story as a child, he’d thought the man was a fuckwad for having taken advantage of the vulnerable princess.

As he lay next to her, a familiar emotion swept over him—the same unwanted one as before. The same damned one that had gotten him in trouble and his heart stomped on.

What the hell had gotten into him?

Chloe was no princess and he was no fucking prince charming.

*

Possessive touches. Hot hands. An insistent mouth.
The dream was familiar, only it wasn't a dream. Chloe opened her eyes to see the most beautiful eyes staring down at her. But that look was back. Before she opened her mouth to speak, she rose from the bed. She had made the mistake of falling asleep and evidently, Logan wasn't happy about that. It hadn't been intentional; she was simply exhausted.

She took a moment to regain her dwindling spirits before asking, "Did you see the kitchen?"

"It's amazing. Wait—not," he corrected himself with a shake of his head. "That doesn't adequately state what it is. It's incredible, Chloe. You’ve really outdone yourself."

His words bolstered her self-confidence and she offered him a smile. She stared down at her feet for a moment unable to recall taking her shoes off.
Had she been that tired?
When she reached for them, she heard a soft laugh from Logan. Glancing up at him, his look of unease was gone and replaced with amusement. She was too tired to play his game of emotional indecisiveness.

"I’m glad you're happy with it. I'll be back early tomorrow to finish the bedroom. Your kinky furniture should be here sometime …"

She didn't have time to finish her statement before Logan was out of his bed and in front of her, silencing her with a kiss.

She made no attempt to push him away, but instead, drew him closer. It couldn't be helped. He smelled so good. He
tasted
so divine. His arms felt so wonderful wrapped around her. His body was putting off enough heat to power a small city, for Pete's sake. How could she say no when everything about him felt right? And even if it was unclear if this thing with him would be more than only short-term, how could she turn him away?

"I've run you a bath. You could use it," he reached a hand up to wipe at something on her face.

A bath sounded amazing, but … Logan Evans was so damned frustrating. Just when she found the courage to object, he took hold of her hand and promptly guided her to the bathroom.

Slowly, he undressed her, taking care to undo the braid at the back of her head. Standing completely naked before him as his eyes roamed over her body, she felt momentarily abashed under the bright lights.

When his gaze met hers, a crooked smile graced his furrier-than-usual face. "You don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, Chloe—or with anyone for that matter. You're flawless. Can't you see that?" He turned her body toward the large mirror as he stood behind her. With his hands on her shoulders he leaned into her ear. "Look how beautiful you are. How intelligent, talented and funny you are. Embrace your sexuality,
Minou
."

She stared at the reflection of herself and watched the slow pink hue on her cheeks turn to a full-body blush. His words, kind and unsolicited, had the opposite effect he wanted, making him laugh.

She turned away from her image to face him. "How am I funny?"

"We can save that conversation for another time. Right now, I want you in that tub."

As she climbed into the steaming oversized bathtub, Logan queued a song on his phone. The notes, lyrics and heat immediately enveloped her, and she let out a moan of sheer happiness. Her apartment only included a shower stall, and it had been years since she had enjoyed the pleasure of taking a hot, bubble bath. Lowering herself into the water until it reached her chin, she pried her eyes open to see Logan seated on a nearby bench, watching her.

"Sorry," he shook his head as if embarrassed at being caught ogling her. "I'll give you some privacy," he stood.

She sat up and reached a wet hand out for him. "No, don't go. Join me." His mouth parted but he stood frozen to his spot without saying anything. "Help me to embrace my sexuality," she murmured and batted her eyelashes at him.

A slow smile worked its way onto his mouth and he let out a breathy laugh. "You're killing me,
Minou
."

"W
hat is this song?"

Logan's answer came as he pulled his tie loose and slipped his slacks down his legs.

"
Sway.
"

As he continued to undress, he kept his eyes riveted to Chloe. She was watching him and her eagerness was radiating off her in waves. She really was killing him. Every single fucking time he made up his mind to pull away from her, she yanked him back. And every single fucking time, it was harder than the time before. The pull from her statement about helping her embrace her sexuality had been so strong that it had nearly brought him to his knees.

Was it intentional on her part? He doubted it. She was simply being Chloe: charismatic, alluring, and sexy to a degree so immeasurable that it seemed pointless to even try to gauge or resist. It was also senseless to try and predict her actions. Hell, she probably didn't even know what she was going to do or say next.

Ah, to be young and impetuous.

He remembered those days. Once upon a time he had been reckless and hotheaded, but his time of impulsiveness had come and gone.

What a fucking joke.

Here he was climbing into the tub where a nude twenty-two-year-old sat gazing up at him as if she wanted nothing more than to be taken hard, and he was trying to convince himself that he was no longer irresponsible. What he was doing epitomized irresponsibility and recklessness.

Fuck it.

She was too damned beautiful for him to say no. He'd live the rest of his pathetic, lonely life in regret if he didn't take the opportunity to bathe with this temptress.

With his clothes lying in a pile next to Chloe's, he climbed into the hot water with her. She turned her body in the large tub so that she was facing him, and pressed the soles of her feet against his.

"I've never taken a bath with a man before," she stated, grinning as she dragged her toes across the arches of his feet.

Logan lowered himself until the water covered his lips to hide the lewd, proud smile on his face.

"Wait," she recanted, shaking her head. "I take that back. When I was little, my mom used to give me and my brother baths together, but that doesn't count."

He lifted his face out of the water long enough to ask a question. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Two younger brothers. Do you have any?"

Technically, yes, he did, but he wasn't about to admit that. A lie was easier. Anyway, it wasn't really a lie; it was simply his version of the truth.

"None."

His short answer gave her pause as her eyes darted between his irises and scanned his half-hidden face as if trying to read his expression, but she quickly plunged on. She grabbed a bottle of body wash and squirted a large amount onto a sponge that sat on the ledge of the tub.

"Consider yourself lucky. Mine are a pain in the ass. Did you ever want a brother or sister?"

Something in Logan’s brain signaled a warning. Chloe was prying into matters that were none of her business. If he told her about his reason for not wanting any brothers or sisters, he would then have to explain that it didn't matter what he wanted, because he had them anyway. Then he would have to explain why he had just lied to her.
Fuck that.

Her question went unanswered but she paid no mind and reached for his foot.

When she began scrubbing at it, her next question came. "You mentioned you grew up in Nebraska. Where exactly?"

Damn her questions.
Questions always demanded answers. And answers about his past would most likely garner sympathy; something he neither wanted nor needed.

The rapid swirling motions of her efforts made him tear his foot away from her.

Her eyes widened. "Ticklish?"

Again, he came up just long enough for a one word response. "No."

Chloe's expression rapidly changed from curiosity to confusion, and circled around to irritation.

"Stop hiding behind those bubbles," she griped as she splashed water in his face. "If you don't want to talk, just say so."

*

Logan was infuriating and Chloe was done with his inability to have a simple conversation about something other than architecture. The look on his face reflected agitation mixed with surprise, and she was glad. She hoped calling him out about his cagey behavior would make him act like a normal human being, even if it was just
acting.

The song Logan had chosen couldn't be more accurate. Being in his presence was like being on a swing—back and forth, up and down, swaying in a torrential wind.

She quickly scrubbed her body with the soapy sponge, and then dipped her head underneath the water to soak her hair. She rose quickly, grabbed a towel and her clothes from the floor.

"Wait," Logan called out.

Impatient to flee the House of Evans before nausea from all the swaying set in, she refused to acknowledge him or the panic in his voice. She had just dried her body and put one leg into her pants when Logan came barreling out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet.

"Just wait."

He reached out to her, but she pulled away. "I should have your bedroom done by tomorrow."

"About that." His deep voice and stern statement made her face him. "You're working too fast."

Unable to process what Logan had just said, she stared back in bewilderment before asking, "What?"

"I thought you would take longer."

"I'm not working at an hourly rate, Logan. Whether I get done in a month or a week, I'll get paid the same."

His brows slammed together in a frown. "It's not about the money."

A sigh of frustration fell from her lips. "That's about the only thing you've made clear."

Tired of trying to figure out what he wanted, she turned to leave, but a hand on her shoulder halted her.

"Dance with me."

Was he kidding?
When he spun her around, the serious look on his face said he wasn't.

He thrust a hand into her damp hair and tipped her head back so that he could ghost his lips across her jawline.

"Please, just dance with me."

"Fine," she narrowed her eyes at him, "but I'll pick the song."

Descending the stairs, she retrieved her phone. The song of her choice was anything but romantic, but it would get her freakin' message across. Remembering the Class t-shirt he had been wearing the previous day, she had no doubt he’d recognize the song, and may its lyrics would hit home.

When she saw Logan appear at the foot of the stairs wearing only unbuttoned jeans, she hit the play button. The moment
Should I Stay or Should I Go
began playing, his demeanor changed.

The feral look he’d had when he pressed his shaft to her lips was back and in two long strides, he was on her. With one hand on the nape of her neck and the other around her waist, he pulled her flush against his body.

"This is terrible dancing music," he breathed against her mouth as he tugged on the hair at the back of her head to draw her gaze onto him.

"That's a matter of opinion," she pressed her hands against his chest to free herself from his grip.

She threw her arms up, spun around and wiggled her ass in an attempt to prove him wrong with her less than graceful dance moves. Logan stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her dance solo for the duration of the song. Though he said nothing, the smile on his face gave away his amusement. At least it was a change from the look of annoyance he’d thrown her way in the tub.

When the song ended, he grabbed her phone and within a matter of seconds, a completely different song was playing. Nina Simone's familiar voice immediately put her at ease. With an arm wrapped around her waist, Logan hauled her into his embrace and buried his face in her damp hair. She draped her arms over his shoulders and floated along the wooden floor with him, basking in the serene moment and the smells of clean bodies and fresh paint.

The way he danced, with commanding self-confidence, was how she imagined he carried himself in life. With the words to
Here Comes the Sun
flowing over her and his nonchalant grace and scent all around her, a current of sexual electricity raced through her so quickly that it left her light-headed and wanting more than just a dance.

Why couldn't he be this man all of the time? The man holding her as if she had always belonged in his arms; the man unabashed of his romantic side; the man whose air of authority demanded instant obedience—obedience she was more than happy to give if he would only show some sign that he was willing to open up.

The song was too short. In less than three minutes their moment was over, leaving her grasping for more, as was always the case when it came to Logan.

Perhaps she
was
working too fast. Perhaps she would just have to draw out this project as long as feasibly possible. At least then she could spend more time getting to know the mysterious architect under the guise of work—a man from whom she had gotten the distinct impression was lying about having no siblings. She could be wrong, but she was usually pretty good at spotting a fib when she saw one. Why someone would lie about something so inconsequential she had no idea, but finding out was all the more reason to pace herself.

*

When the song was over, Chloe retreated from Logan. She seemed to be doing that more frequently. Then again, she was withdrawing because he was pushing her away. He had acted like an ass in the bathtub and already regretted having ruined her first time taking a bath with a man. What could've been something sexy had been spoiled by his mistrustful behavior.

But their time wasn't over yet. He wanted another taste of Ms. Stephens. She bore his scent after using his body wash and he wanted her to bear his mark.

"Dinner is waiting," he stated bluntly, gripping her wrist and pulling her into the kitchen.

Before she had a chance to decline, he reheated the food and placed it and a glass of wine before her. It only took one whiff for her to dive into the sweet coconut fried prawns with mango, cucumber and greens that he had chosen for her.

While they devoured their food, he told her about his upcoming project: the restoration of the San Francisco School of the Arts. When he spoke of the historical landmark located in the Golden Gate Park and how it had been forced to close due to storms, Chloe was all ears.

"This is right up your alley," she said as she took a sip of wine.

A smile formed on his lips. She was right. It was. The conservatory and its impending complications would prove to be a true test of his architectural aptitude, and it was a challenge he was up for.

This project's success would also prove McDaniels wrong for thinking he could be so easily dismissed. He would thoroughly enjoy proving that jackass wrong, along with a certain someone else whose name he didn't feel like repeating—the same someone who had screwed him over in the worst way. Her parting words had stung when she’d said that he would be nothing without her, despite the fact that he didn't really believe that. Though he’d excelled in his career for himself and as a way to prove to himself that he was worthy of all his accolades, there was still that small part of him that wanted to shove his success in her face.

Professionally speaking, anyway. To find someone who surpassed Jess in every way, most especially when it came to beauty and talent, would be a far greater form of revenge. He knew of only one person who fit that bill, but using Chloe to settle a score was juvenile, even for him.

"You're going to kick this project right in the butt, Logan."

A laugh rumbled in his throat. Chloe was sweet and her words of encouragement touching, no matter how sophomoric they were.

Speaking of revenge
… Chloe was about to experience a little lesson in orgasm denial after her usage of the word
Sir
and the response it had caused. When the evening was done, she could once again claim her time with him had been
educational.

With the last bite of his braised lamb shank gone, he pushed their containers and wine glasses aside. The unmistakable gleam in Chloe's eyes told Logan that she knew he was a man on a mission.

He stood and swept her up into his arms to carry her up the stairs, but she promptly put a stop to it.

"I need to get home, Logan. It's late and I have a lot planned for tomorrow."

Her solemn expression was like a sucker punch to his ego. He held strong, not giving in until she wriggled in his arms, making her wishes undeniably clear.

Gently, he set her down.

His lips parted and a look of hopefulness flashed across her face, but the words, demands and questions that lingered on his tongue went unsaid. When he snapped his mouth closed, her expression of somber exasperation returned as she let out a loud sigh.

She gathered her bag and keys, and just as she opened the front door, she turned to face him.