Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (25 page)

“It’s time for me to show you just how that chair was meant to be used.”

Chloe had barely processed his words when he swept her up into his arms with the same force he had used to pull the robe from her body. In a moment of passion, his firm, wet mouth closed over hers. He broke the seal of their kiss just long enough to deposit her onto the chair she had ignorantly mistaken for a lounger.

Laid out before him, he hovered next to her on one knee, his rough fingertips skimming along her body. He dipped his head down, burying his nose in the valley between her breasts before his mouth drew down over her nipples to tongue, suck and tease them, and leave them glistening from his mouth.

Just as she began to writhe against the vinyl, he stood and reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. As she lay waiting anxiously for his next move, he stripped his clothes off and began to pace back and forth in front of her. The fierce need in his eyes, the shadows falling on the sharp lines of his chest and V of his pelvic muscles, the scent of his cologne and the sound of the music he had queued, all caused Chloe’s heart rate to spike and her breathing to quicken.

Moving to the foot of the chair, Logan’s eyes pierced through her as he stood watching her.

He leaned down and slid a hand between her legs.

“Make yourself come.”

The look on his face was new,
different
, and the urgency in his voice more demanding. The three words Logan had spoken with casual ease sent a shock wave of embarrassment and riot of emotions through her. Sitting idly and uneasily with her knees pulled up and her hands resting on her stomach, blood rushed to her cheeks.

She had never done
that
in front of anyone. Not to completion, anyway. She recalled a few years earlier overhearing a classmate tell about how she and her boyfriend had played with themselves in front of each other. The mortification it had elicited within her was something she remembered well, and a self-conscious giggle floated up from her throat at the thought of someone watching her, most especially the man whose opinion meant everything to her.

Chloe hesitated for only a moment when Logan stood upright and glared down at her.

A gust of wind whipped against the window and momentarily drowned out the man’s voice singing about
Control
. She opened her mouth and when the words
I can’t
slipped past them, Logan pushed her knees apart and kneeled between them to silence her with a finger pressed to her lips.

“She
can’t
,” he whispered with a light shake of his head. His tone was nondescript, and there wasn’t a hint of contemptuousness or sarcasm in his next statement. “Haven’t you figured out yet what makes this thing between us work? What will continue to make it work? Or, should I draw you a schematic or sketch you a diagram?”

Bewildered and taken aback by Logan’s questions and the intensity of his gaze, she awkwardly stretched out on the chair without saying anything. When he stood, gripped his shaft and commented offhandedly in a tone as if he was speaking to a child—
see, this is how you do it
—while slowly stroking himself into a full-blown erection, her face heated with humiliation again.

A moment later, he spoke more purposefully. “I enjoy being with you, but my demands aren’t up for negotiation, so I need you to listen carefully.”
Stroke
. “When we’re together …”
stroke,
“… you do as you're told.”
Stroke
. “As. You’re. Told,” he repeated with calm tenacity.

Doing
as she was told
was a nice idea in theory, but Chloe had serious doubts as to its practical application. During sex, sure—no problem. She liked Logan being in control of her pleasure. But in real life? She wasn’t the kind of woman to
lie down
, so to speak, for any one. Logan was pushing her too hard and too fast in his attempt to try and prove something, but what he was trying to prove was beyond her comprehension. At any rate, her mind was too clouded with excitement to attempt to figure it out.

As she lay tensely waiting for his next move, she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. The burn of heat in their shadowed depths urged her forward and it was as if she was watching herself from above when her hand slid down her belly and between her legs. Fingers glided over her labia and a digit swirled around her clit before dipping inside, she watched as one side of Logan’s mouth tipped into a sated grin.

Logan’s eyes riveted on her. His hands guiding her movements. His mouth devouring her. His voice commanding her. His strategically placed kisses igniting her erogenous zones. Sweat drenched bodies. An orgasm within reach. Begging, pleading to come, but denied. Her saliva-drenched lips wrapped around him, taking all of him until her throat ached. A sinful gleam in the most concentrated eyes. A wicked smile on the most perfect lips. Her back against the curved arch. Her legs draped over his shoulders. Her exhausted arms hanging at her sides. His weight driving her into the vinyl with each powerful, calculated thrust.

In those few seconds that it took to put a smile Logan’s face, in the few hours that it took to keep it there, Chloe knew what made him so dangerous and irresistible—
his control.
With that knowledge, she knew there was no turning back.

N
ervous energy pumped through Chloe’s veins as she drove to the airport. The day had been a busy one with barely a spare moment to think about anything except the next step in front of her. But now, her mind was abuzz with ways to get work done while keeping her family entertained.

Fortunately, the day had been a productive one leaving her with only a few projects to get done over the weekend—namely the chandeliers that would hang from the scissor trusses in Logan’s living area. During the eight hours she had been at the House of Evans, she had managed to interview three students and immediately put them to work with sewing projects and painting, argue with the company who was supposed to have delivered two pieces of Logan’s furniture while getting them to agree to overnight ship them, and unpack a large percentage of the boxes scattered in the living area and laundry room. With so much space now available in the utility room, she was even able to plot out the layout to make it double as a workout room.

She had been energetic upon awakening that morning and the afterglow from the previous night’s
chair time
had left her feeling as if she was floating on a cloud of invincibility all day long.

Finally with a few minutes to relax, she allowed herself the luxury of reminiscing about all that had happened the night before, while the song Logan had texted her during his lunch hour played. The voice was soothing but the lyrics went unheard. Her mind was too foggy with sensual memories to truly hear them.

Chloe flushed from the heat of arousal when she envisioned all the positions Logan had manipulated her body into. She had never felt more safe and cherished than when she lay tucked into the curves of that wonderful chair. The look of utter contentment on his face and the garbled words that had spilled from his lips when he climaxed, created a memory she would treasure forever.

Waiting at the terminal for her family, she forced herself to put any and all sexy images of Logan out of her mind. She hadn’t heard back from him since his text, but she knew he was busy. Anyway, she would speak to him later that evening to get his decision on color and fabric choices for the living area.

As she stood gazing out at a large window at the incoming planes, her mother’s voice was the first to be heard. When she spun around, two-and-a-half smiles stared back at her. She couldn’t decide which was the widest: her mother’s or father’s. The half-smile, of course, belonged to Tyson.

Her mom promptly threw her arms around her. “
Mi hija,
you look so beautiful!”

Her mother’s unsolicited compliment made Chloe blush. When her father pulled them both close in a tight family hug, tears of joy threatened to break loose. Freed from their grips, she pulled Tyson into a reluctant hug. She had missed him too, even if he was a pain in the ass.

Her father held her by the shoulders and looked her over closely. “You look different.” His eyes darted up and down her body as he gave a shake of his head. “Something is different. Are you eating okay?”

Chloe laughed and nodded.

“Are your bills getting paid on time?” He continued his inquiry.

“Of course,” she answered with offense.

“I hope you didn’t spend too much of your money getting us here,” he plunged on as he stared into her eyes.

“It’s all right, Dad.”

“Let the girl alone. We just got here. Let her breathe,” her mother chimed in.

“What are we doing tonight? I checked out some good spots online that we can hang out at,” Tyson spoke up.

“You, too. Let her relax,” her mother sniped as she glared at her younger brother. “She worked all day and now you both expect her to entertain you and answer all your questions?”

Her mother’s disciplinarian tone did little to convince either her brother or father to let up, and Chloe simply smiled. With their luggage in tow, she led the way to the car. When they arrived, everyone’s jaws dropped.

“Chloe Trinity Stephens …” her mom gasped in shock.

“You get a little money and this is what you spend it on?” Her dad griped.

“Sweetness,” Tyson exhaled.

Chloe gave them all a roll of her eyes. Nothing had changed. She would always be a child in her parents’ eyes. She had been living on her own, paying her own bills now for nearly four years, and
still
they didn’t give her an ounce of credit.

“Before you all get your panties in a bunch, this was Logan’s idea. It’s a rental.”

Her mother’s body immediately relaxed, Tyson’s shoulders slumped with disappointment, while her dad had the exact opposite reaction of both of them.

“Who’s
Logan
?”

Chloe opened the back compartment door while avoiding eye contact. “My boss.”
In more ways than one,
she thought to herself with a secret smile.

Her dad kept his eyes glued to her as if trying to read her. It was something he was eerily good at, so she kept her eyes on the suitcase in her hands as she loaded it into the Mercedes.

Chloe finally met her father’s intense gaze. “The man we’re making the chandelier for; the man whose money is paying my bills right now.”

***

After getting her family checked into a nice, but affordable hotel for which Chloe was footing the bill, and their luggage deposited in their room, she drove them to her apartment for a quick tour. They had never seen it. Two years spent living in the dorms had been more than enough for her and she had convinced them to allow her to find an apartment.

As her parent’s ogled all of her collectibles and creations, she recalled their stated concerns for not wanting her to live alone in the big city. How times had changed. Watching them ooh and aah as they walked around her small apartment, they seemed proud. Her father’s statement only proved her correct.

“You’ve really made your place into something special. I don’t think you really know how talented you are, Honey. Your work,” he gazed around, “it’s amazing. Your granddad would be proud to see that you’ve carried on his legacy.”

Three short steps brought her to his side. “He’d be proud of us both,” she said softly as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Her father said nothing, but that was no surprise to Chloe. He never took the credit where credit was due. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, she truly felt at home. Humble as always, stronger than he appeared, stubborn beyond reproach, and loyal to a fault—her father was the kind of man legends were made of. At least in her opinion, and when it came to her dad, her opinion was the only one that mattered.

While she explained some of her pieces to her dad, Tyson sat indifferently in the armchair near the for-decoration-only fireplace with his face and fingertip plastered to his Smartphone looking up God only knows what.

Chloe didn’t have to wonder for long.

“There’s a restaurant not far from here called Stone Street
that sounds good.”

Chloe gave him a pointed stare. Leave it to Tyson to choose the most expensive restaurant in her neighborhood when he wasn’t footing the bill. It had been so long since she’d had her mom’s home cooking, she hoped her mom would cook for them. All it would take would be e a quick trip to the grocery store.

As if her mother had read her thoughts, she bellowed from the bedroom, “Why don’t we just stay in and I’ll cook?”

“Christ on a cracker, we’re finally out of Michigan and you want to stay in? I want to go out. I want see things. Come
on
,” Tyson whined as he drew out the last word.

As irritating as he was, Chloe sympathized with him. She had fled Michigan for the same reason that Tyson was itching to get out—boredom.

Her mother’s presence was felt behind her.

“Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain,” she hissed over Chloe’s shoulder to Tyson.

Tyson huffed and marched to the window with a mouthful of mumbled words.

Chloe couldn’t help but smile. It was just like old times.

****

Dinner had been filled with conversation, mostly one-sided as Tyson rambled on about school, girls and soccer. A drive to the Marina Gallery Center to show off her boss’ handiwork had thoroughly impressed everyone, including Tyson, and they all seemed eager to meet the man who had taken a chance on a new interior decorator. She would have loved to taken them all to his place to further impress them with his architectural skills, but she wasn’t sure it was appropriate or professional seeing as she hadn’t gotten Logan’s approval.

With her family resting comfortably in their hotel room and Chloe back home and finally resting after a long day, she contemplated whether or not to call her
boss
. Other than the one text message, she hadn’t heard from him all day.

Giving into temptation, she dialed his number.

“
Minou
,” his raspy voice cracked when he answered.

“Were you sleeping?”

“Just about,” he said with a yawn.

“Sorry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she sighed with disappointment, as she prepared to end the call.

“It’s fine. I’m awake now. How are your folks?”

Chloe immediately perked up. “Good. Healthy.”

“And you? How was your day? It looks like you got a lot done around here.”

“I did. How was your day?”

The sound of shifting movement kept Chloe on her toes for Logan’s answer. “Busy as hell. Things are moving faster than I expected with the School of Arts development. We have most of the permits we need to get started with the initial phases of renovation, which is a feat. Usually the city moves slow as fuck when it comes to that sort of thing. I’m guessing some of the political connections involved with this project called in a few favors.”

“How exciting. Have you seen the place?”

“Only in photos. I’m planning a field trip soon to get a feel for the place.”

Logan’s padded footsteps on his wood floor could be heard followed by the clink of glass and the pop of a cork.

“Which wine are you opening?”

“Something from my vineyard. The people who run it brought over several bottles as a housewarming gift. I think they’re trying to coax me into extending their lease.”

Chloe eased back into her pillow and listened in silence as Logan took a sip and swished it around in his mouth.

“Describe it,” she said as she closed her eyes.

“Well, it’s …”

She promptly cut him off. “In French.”

Logan laughed and Chloe could almost imagine the smile on his face.

“If you insist. But I have to think about it for a moment as my French is a bit rusty.”

“Take your time. I have all night,” she whispered.

“Damn, your voice is sexy,
Minou
,” Logan countered. “How about you describe what you’re wearing—in Spanish.”

“My Spanish is just as rusty as your French, but I’ll do my best,” she answered with a light laugh. “But you first.”

“No,
you
first,” he ordered.

Chloe pried her eyes open and looked down at herself as she tried to think up ways to add extra zing to the description of her unappealing, oversized t-shirt. When she finally found the words, she spoke in the breathiest, most lusty voice she could manage.

“
Estoy vestida en una
,” she paused as she wracked her brain to recall the foreign words, “
camiseta
holgada rosada
.”

A low rumble in Logan’s throat sent a rush of blood between her legs.

“
Sin nada debajo
,” she added as a teaser.

“I have no idea what you said, but holy fuck, it was hot,” he let out a breathy chuckle.

“I’m wearing a pink, loose-fitting t-shirt,” she clarified with a giggle. “With nothing underneath.”

“God, I can’t wait to get my hands on you,” he murmured. “Speaking of … I thought some of my furniture was supposed to be delivered today?”

“Yeah, about that—I called and demanded it be overnight shipped. It
will
be at your place tomorrow.”

“Demanded, huh?” he laughed. “I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

“You would’ve been proud of me. I really put my foot down.”

“Oh, I believe it. I’ve seen something to that effect already,” he huffed.

Her cheeks heated with embarrassment and she quickly changed the subject. “Now tell me about the wine. In French.”

“Yes, I remember,” he seemed amused. “Let me think,” he said as he took another sip. “
Il est croustillant,
” he said before halting briefly, as if trying his best to remember the language. “
Et lumineux,
” he added after another gulp. “
Et j’aimerais que tu sois ici pour le partager avec moi.”