Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (32 page)

Her bottom lip trembled. She already didn’t want any other man. Didn’t he know that? Hadn’t she made that abundantly clear?

Slowly, he dipped his fingers in to tease her yet again, bringing her to the brink of release only to deny her. The way he had done to her from the very beginning.

“Say
yes,
” he cooed.

Stroke
.
Swirl
.

“Say it,” he repeated, his look of insistence betraying the tenderness in his voice.

Somewhere between disbelief and disenchantment, Chloe shook her head. He had no right to demand this of her. Not in this way. Not by cruelly manipulating her and offering her a slice of heaven only to snatch it away if she didn’t comply with his demands.

Hungry for his touch but knowing that it came at a cost, she feebly tried to free herself, even while knowing it was impossible.

When Logan dropped to his knees and thrust his tongue into her while his thumb began to circle around her clit, she bucked him away with her hips.

“Unbind me!” she suddenly shrieked, startling him. When he stood and stared back at her as if confused by her sudden rampageous reaction, she thrashed harder against the cross. “I said let me loose! I want off this thing!” she yelled.

In a flash, the cuffs on all four of her limbs were loosened. Tearing away from Logan as he approached her, she darted toward the front door while simultaneously trying to realign her lingerie and skirt, and button her blouse. Grabbing her bag in hand, she threw the front door open.

Logan bolted toward her. “Chloe, wait …”

As she jogged to her vehicle while fumbling inside her bag to find her keys, an upsurge of emotions tore through her. He reached for her, but the expression on his face said he wanted to conquer her, not comfort her. Even in the semi-dark, the blush of displeasure that colored his cheeks was visible. The sudden tormented expression on his face and his physical withdrawal when she pushed him away made her want to cry, but she refused.

“You told me to help you not be a jerk. Well, here’s a newsflash: that was a jerk move. You don’t get to just take what you want,” she whispered, as her throat tightened painfully. “You don’t get to blackmail me with sexual pleasure to get me to agree. Even if you feel you feel guilty about how you handled asking me to that damned dinner, or because you’re too proud or afraid to admit how you really feel about me
.
”

D
irt and rocks kicked up a small dust storm as Chloe sped down Logan’s driveway, only driving home the point she had just made. He had tried his best to make her to see things his way, and all he’d managed to do was push her farther away.

Now would be the perfect time to just walk away from her and let things be; to just let her float away like she had in his dream, but just like in the dream, he kept reaching for her even while knowing his efforts were useless.

He had used his power over her like a weapon and taken her submission for granted—something a month ago he would’ve sworn he would never do to a woman. But this time, no amount of fear would stand in the way of his trying to make it up to her. Back and forth, this struggle between them was growing old, always his fuck ups, always her calling him out and, yet, forgiving him. Always unable to resist her pull and him going back for more only to screw things up again. Would this non-thing never end between them? He had no idea and he was too pissed at himself for the way things had played out to try and figure it all out.

Back inside, he showered, redressed and used his trusty old GPS tracking app to locate Chloe. His presence would no doubt be unwelcome, but he didn’t give a shit. As hurt and angry as she’d been when she left, he feared she would do something uncharacteristically drastic—like drink too much. Or worse yet, she might accept the advances of another man. God, he couldn’t bear the thought. No, he would be there to catch her if she fell and to steady her, even though he could barely stabilize himself.

The forty-five minute drive to Chloe’s location was fraught with the fear that he would be too late to stop whatever revenge Chloe was planning.
If
she was planning revenge. It was probably unlikely that the intelligent and beautiful young woman whose grip was so tight around him he could barely breathe would resort to something that juvenile, but he just couldn’t chance it. Knowing that he had somehow driven two women to cheat on him would be more than his ego could withstand.

When he found the location marked on his GPS, all of the air expelled from his lungs in one sigh of relief. The
bar
to which she had referred, wasn’t really a bar at all, but a quiet, upscale restaurant. Upon entering it, he scanned his surroundings. It didn’t take long to find her. Even amongst the wealthy attractive women patronizing the establishment, her striking beauty stood out readily.

He stood back and watched as she spoke to her classmates for only a brief moment before moving to the bar. She was sulking.

On a mission to make her feel better, he cautiously approached her. The bartender had no sooner placed a martini with extra olives in her hand when he seated himself next to her.

“I didn’t know you liked martinis.”

He inwardly rolled his eyes at his lame attempt to make conversation. But what else was he going to say?
Hey there, kiddo, sorry I fingerfucked you to the edge of orgasm only to deny you just so you would go out on a date with me. That’s right. A DATE. The very thing I said this thing wasn’t. Because I’m a jackass like that.
That would go over real well.

In a heartbeat, Chloe spun on her stool to stare wide-eyed back at him. The look of unadulterated outrage on her face almost made him laugh out loud. Not because it was particularly amusing, but because she looked at him the way he felt about himself and his actions—fucking appalled.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she finally answered after a moment of silence.

She was right. After all this time together, they still hardly knew anything about each other. Of course, that was no one’s fault but his. Though that was neither here nor there. Then again, maybe it was
here
and
there
, and every-fucking-where.

“I know that you’re stubborn as hell,” he countered, trying to joke.

“I’m not going with you tomorrow. If you’ve come here to try and …”

Logan swiftly cut her off. “I came here to make sure you were safe.”

Disbelief radiated from the shimmering depths of her eyes. “Safe from
what
? The only thing I need protection from is you.”

“Ouch,” he whispered. Seemingly embarrassed, Chloe blinked hard and averted her gaze to her drink, giving him the courage to make a different kind of offer. “How about we get out of here—go somewhere and talk.”

As if mulling over his offer, her lips parted before she ultimately shook her head. “I haven’t been here that long,” she said, looking past him.

“The firm just finished another property last week. It hasn’t been staged yet. I was thinking maybe I could put in a good word for you with the real estate agency.”

He gave her his best smile, but it elicited nothing from her except a look of caution.

“In exchange for what?” she asked as her eyes narrowed.

He had no sooner touched her elbow to reassure her that he didn’t expect anything in return and respond to her question, when an attractive male several inches and years less than himself approached them.

“Is this guy bothering you?” the dark-haired man eyed Logan contemptuously.

Before Logan told the asshole that was standing too close his
Minou
to go fuck himself, his eyes darted between Chloe and the stranger to gauge whether or not they knew each other.

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Taylor. Logan is my client—that’s all.”

Chloe’s statement scorched through him. He had uttered nearly the same words to her father, and he could only imagine how they had made her feel. It couldn’t be much better than the feeling of heavy, sodden dullness now overtaking him.

*

Twice in a matter of a few minutes, Chloe’s words had clearly cut Logan. God, she hated being this person—bitchy, snarky and cold. Yet, she couldn’t seem to stop. Immediately regretting her tone and cruel responses, she slid off her stool to distance herself from him before she made any more unkind remarks.

“This is the guy who hired you?” Taylor immediately perked up. “It’s great to meet someone willing to take a chance on a newbie,” he thrust his hand in Logan’s direction.

Begrudgingly, Logan shook it while his eyes continued to dart between her and Taylor. When she walked away, she was horrified to see Taylor towing Logan back to their table.

“This is the guy who hired Chloe. I asked him to join us. It turns out he’s an architect,” Taylor explained right before introducing Logan to the five others in their group.

Taking the only available spot, Logan seated himself across from her and next to Kristin, the bubbly, platinum-blonde beauty whom Chloe was surprised had managed to graduate considering how bad her grades were.

“An architect?” Kristin’s already cheery mood brightened. “Chloe didn’t mention that about you. In fact, she didn’t say much at all.”

Logan shot her a look of disappointment. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

When Kristin promptly began chatting up Logan, Chloe’s nerves prickled with unwanted jealousy. Maybe it was the way he was watching her so intently. Then again, perhaps it was the amount of liquor she had in her system. She was a lightweight and having already consumed two martinis in a short period of time, her brain was buzzing. When she took a large gulp of her third drink, she heard Taylor laugh next to her.

“Slow down, Mama. You don’t want to be so
pompette
that you don’t remember who you’re going home with.”

Chloe stared in bewilderment at his suggestive remark and his use of a word she had never heard before.

“I’d never allow that happen,” she heard Logan grumble from across the table. “And you’ve got your French all wrong, Taylor,” he said, repeating her own words. Sort of. No,
his
own words. Chloe shook her head at the disoriented sensation settling in the back of her eyes and making her vision blurry.

“You’re getting
pompette
confused with
déchiré. Pompette
refers to being mildly intoxicated. Like when you drink enough to get the bed spins, but not enough to regret anything—like kicking the ass of some mouthy asshole who deserved it.
Déchiré
means being wasted. As in—lights out—get ready for the walk-of-shame tomorrow morning for having had your ass handed to you because of a drunken moment of inappropriateness.”

The intensity blazing in Logan’s eyes had everyone at the table staring in silence at him for several long seconds, and Chloe swore she heard the other women’s panties dripping underneath the table.

“Where did you learn to speak French?” Kristin asked as she scooted her chair closer to Logan.

“My mom,” he answered. “She was born and raised in Louisiana, and grew up speaking the language. She’s spoken it to me my whole life.”

Chloe gritted her teeth at his sudden burst of candidness with Kristin, a complete stranger. She had been struggling for every inch of intimacy with him from day one, and here he was, sharing freely with a woman he had just met.

When she heard Kristin comment about her lack of experience, Chloe chimed in.

“I’m sure Logan would be happy to put in a good word for you with the real estate agency his firm works with. How about you take her to that place your firm just finished?” Chloe asked with a sarcastic lift of her brows.

Logan’s eyes narrowed down to slits when Kristin squealed her approval. He glanced in the blonde’s direction and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Chloe has spoken out of turn.” He shot her a look of disapproval before turning his attention back to Kristin. “I’m only allowed to make those kinds of offers to people close to me.”

Is that what she was—
close
to him? He sure had her fooled. The look of defeat on Kristin’s face combined with the stern expression Logan was throwing her way spoke of spankings, and it made Chloe slump in her seat. She was being
that girl
again. Tired and
mildly intoxicated,
she stood and reached for her handbag hanging on the back of the chair.

“Sorry, folks, but I’m calling it a night.”

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Taylor declared.

“She already has a ride home,” Logan growled and stood in response.

“Yes, I do,” she interjected, her eyes darting between Taylor and Logan. “The trolley.”

“Like hell …” Logan began when Kristin also stood and captured his attention.

Seizing the moment, Chloe exited the restaurant quickly. Standing on the street waiting for the next streetcar, she felt Logan’s hand on her shoulder.

When she turned around, Logan was holding one of Kristin’s cards in his hand.

“Why the hell would you tell that blonde that? And who the fuck is Taylor? Did you sleep with him?”

Staring down the street, she prayed the trolley would arrive quickly.

“Answer me,” Logan demanded.

Facing him, she tried to focus on the blurry image of his face. “I figured since you were so eager to share your past with her and you two hit it off, she could be your next interior decorator. Or fuck. Or whatever it is that you’re looking for. As for Taylor, no.”

Logan stared at her a moment as if decoding her response. When he realized he was still holding Kristin’s card, he flung it onto the ground. “I’m not looking for another decorator, or anyone else to … I’m not interested in anyone else but you.”

She glared back at him. “Yet, you’re not
really
interested in me, are you?”

When her question went unanswered, she turned back toward the street.

“You’re
not
taking the trolley,” he griped.

“I
am
,” she countered with a sigh.

“Seriously, stop being so damned stubborn,” he insisted loudly when the streetcar arrived.

“See you on Monday,” she tugged out of his grip and hopped onto the trolley.

Gripping the rail, she let the cool night air sober her up a bit. The bright lights, the slightly dirty smell of the city, and the stars shining overhead brought on a sense of nostalgia from a time when her love life was less complicated; a time when her life in general was less complicated. A time when the biggest thing to worry about was when her next exam was; a time when a ginger architect wasn’t clouding her vision and judgment.

The loud blare of a horn brought her out of her fugue state just long enough to catch a glimpse of Logan’s car zooming up quickly behind the trolley she was riding on. Weaving in and out of traffic, he stayed on their tail, always watching her closely. Turning away from him, she tried to concentrate on the people standing near to her and listen in on their conversation, but it was no use. Logan’s gaze could be felt and she was unable to resist glancing at him time and time again.

If only he was
this guy
all the time. The one so concerned with her safety that he felt compelled to seek her out and follow her home; the one who had tried to defend her honor; the one who claimed to not be interested in anyone else but her. But he wasn’t. He was the guy who only wanted to fuck her.