Chapter 14
CONNOR ESCORTED ME TO the door of my loft. It was still early. A little after ten. The bar was packed. I waved at Cook as we passed through the kitchen. He jerked his chin once in greeting while treating Connor to an appraising glance.
“Care for some fried pickles?” I offered, motioning to the kitchen.
“Thanks. I’m full. But that’s pretty cool—having a short order cook within shouting range.”
“Yes and no. My arteries may not thank me after this summer.”
I invited him up after unlocking the door, deciding this might be a good time to clear the air and establish that we were just going to be friends. Once we cleared the top, the opportunity came sooner than I expected though when he tried to kiss me.
I pressed a hand to the flat of his chest, noticing how much softer it felt compared to Logan’s. And not nearly so broad. “Connor, I can’t . . .”
He sighed and shook his head. “Friend zone, huh? Not the first time it’s happened.”
I winced. “I enjoy hanging out with you . . . and working together.”
Nodding, he held up a hand. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not going to turn into a bastard when we work together. You’re still a hell of a lot better than Gillian.”
I snorted. “Not much of a compliment, but I’ll take it. We can still hang out, right? We can be friends. Our relationship doesn’t have to be strictly work.” I’d enjoyed being around him so far this summer. It was nice to have someone to catch a movie or bite to eat with. Pepper and Emerson were busy with their relationships and work.
“Sure.” He flashed me a smile that didn’t look too pained. “Like I’m going to say no to hanging out with a cute girl. Besides, you can always change your mind. Especially once you realize how much I enjoy to shop.”
I wasn’t going to change my mind, but I just laughed lightly and smiled at him. It was kinder than digging the blade in deeper and insisting that I wouldn’t change my mind.
“And I couldn’t help noticing your friend Suzanne,” he added. “She’s cute . . . and single, I gathered?”
I patted his shoulder. “I’ll let you know about that.” I wasn’t about to toss Suzanne at him until I asked her if she was even interested.
I walked Connor back down and said good night. Closing the door after him, I locked it and sighed, falling back against the flat expanse. For several long moments, I just stared unseeingly ahead. Then with another sigh, I shoved off the door and ascended the steps. Once in the loft, I kicked off one heeled wedge and then another.
A knock on the door below had me turning around. Walking back down stairs, I opened the door, expecting to find Connor there. Maybe he had changed his mind about those pickle chips.
Instead Logan stood there, one hand resting on the edge of the doorjamb, his blue eyes dark and avid in a way that made my chest squeeze to the point of pain.
I stepped back up on the stairs like his presence was too much, his nearness a flame, burning hot and bright. He lowered that arm and I couldn’t help noticing the way the sleeve bunched, hugging the nicely muscled bicep.
He stepped up on the top step and shut the door after him. It felt like the stairwell was closing in on us. Our proximity was too much. Turning, I hurried up into the loft.
Maybe I shouldn’t have. Naturally, he followed me. But my brain only half functioned around him. My body did all the thinking, reacting on its own. My skin tightened, every nerve ending tingling and prickling in a way that made me want to puke or dance for joy. It was pretty much the same sensation.
“You invited him up here.” The words fell on the air like an accusation, but there was a tightness to his jaw that told me he hated even uttering the words . . . like it pained him to get them past his lips.
“You told me to fuck him.” For once the profanity slid easily off my tongue. It’s what he had said to me and I wasn’t even going to try to paraphrase. He hadn’t cared. I blinked suddenly burning eyes. Treacherously burning eyes. After kissing me and . . . and all the rest, he hadn’t cared what I did with another guy. It shouldn’t have stung. He wasn’t my boyfriend. But it had stung. It still did.
“Did you?”
I opened my mouth and then shut it with a snap. I didn’t owe him an explanation.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving my face. He started to move again, stalking me. I backed up into the kitchen area, deliberating avoiding the bed and futon. He followed.
“I hate that you might have been with him. That I taunted you into it. I want him to eat my fist if he even touched you, but it won’t change anything between us either.” His chest lifted on a breath. “I want you, Georgia.”
I sucked in a ragged breath. I’d backed up into the kitchen area. The table bumped the backs of my thighs.
“I-I wasn’t with him.” I didn’t have to tell him this, but the starkness of his gaze, the bluntness of his words compelled the words from me.
His features eased with relief. His eyes roamed my face and his voice came out hoarsely. “Tell me to leave.”
I blinked, confused and bewildered at the request. He stepped forward another pace until we were chest to chest.
My senses reeled, overwhelmed at his closeness, the push of his chest against my breasts, the breadth of him surrounding me.
“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his hands reaching for the hem of my dress. His gaze held mine for a fraction of a second, but I couldn’t find my voice.
In one swift move, he pulled my dress over my head, leaving me pressed between him and the table in nothing but black panties and bra.
The only sound was the distant hum of the bar below us and the rasp of our breath.
“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his voice harder, his eyes like flint.
When I didn’t say anything, his mouth covered mine and he simultaneously lifted me up on the table. He broke away for a split second to pull his shirt off, not giving me nearly enough time to appreciate that sight, and then his mouth came back down on mine, kissing me so hard that my head bent back.
With a move I could hardly process, he flicked open the clasp of my bra at my back. The black satin straps slid loose off my shoulders and I released my hands from where they clung to his biceps to shrug it free.
My legs came around his hips and his bigger hands were under me, cupping my bottom.
His lips moved against mine with the same request. “Tell me to leave.”
CONNOR ESCORTED ME TO the door of my loft. It was still early. A little after ten. The bar was packed. I waved at Cook as we passed through the kitchen. He jerked his chin once in greeting while treating Connor to an appraising glance.
“Care for some fried pickles?” I offered, motioning to the kitchen.
“Thanks. I’m full. But that’s pretty cool—having a short order cook within shouting range.”
“Yes and no. My arteries may not thank me after this summer.”
I invited him up after unlocking the door, deciding this might be a good time to clear the air and establish that we were just going to be friends. Once we cleared the top, the opportunity came sooner than I expected though when he tried to kiss me.
I pressed a hand to the flat of his chest, noticing how much softer it felt compared to Logan’s. And not nearly so broad. “Connor, I can’t . . .”
He sighed and shook his head. “Friend zone, huh? Not the first time it’s happened.”
I winced. “I enjoy hanging out with you . . . and working together.”
Nodding, he held up a hand. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not going to turn into a bastard when we work together. You’re still a hell of a lot better than Gillian.”
I snorted. “Not much of a compliment, but I’ll take it. We can still hang out, right? We can be friends. Our relationship doesn’t have to be strictly work.” I’d enjoyed being around him so far this summer. It was nice to have someone to catch a movie or bite to eat with. Pepper and Emerson were busy with their relationships and work.
“Sure.” He flashed me a smile that didn’t look too pained. “Like I’m going to say no to hanging out with a cute girl. Besides, you can always change your mind. Especially once you realize how much I enjoy to shop.”
I wasn’t going to change my mind, but I just laughed lightly and smiled at him. It was kinder than digging the blade in deeper and insisting that I wouldn’t change my mind.
“And I couldn’t help noticing your friend Suzanne,” he added. “She’s cute . . . and single, I gathered?”
I patted his shoulder. “I’ll let you know about that.” I wasn’t about to toss Suzanne at him until I asked her if she was even interested.
I walked Connor back down and said good night. Closing the door after him, I locked it and sighed, falling back against the flat expanse. For several long moments, I just stared unseeingly ahead. Then with another sigh, I shoved off the door and ascended the steps. Once in the loft, I kicked off one heeled wedge and then another.
A knock on the door below had me turning around. Walking back down stairs, I opened the door, expecting to find Connor there. Maybe he had changed his mind about those pickle chips.
Instead Logan stood there, one hand resting on the edge of the doorjamb, his blue eyes dark and avid in a way that made my chest squeeze to the point of pain.
I stepped back up on the stairs like his presence was too much, his nearness a flame, burning hot and bright. He lowered that arm and I couldn’t help noticing the way the sleeve bunched, hugging the nicely muscled bicep.
He stepped up on the top step and shut the door after him. It felt like the stairwell was closing in on us. Our proximity was too much. Turning, I hurried up into the loft.
Maybe I shouldn’t have. Naturally, he followed me. But my brain only half functioned around him. My body did all the thinking, reacting on its own. My skin tightened, every nerve ending tingling and prickling in a way that made me want to puke or dance for joy. It was pretty much the same sensation.
“You invited him up here.” The words fell on the air like an accusation, but there was a tightness to his jaw that told me he hated even uttering the words . . . like it pained him to get them past his lips.
“You told me to fuck him.” For once the profanity slid easily off my tongue. It’s what he had said to me and I wasn’t even going to try to paraphrase. He hadn’t cared. I blinked suddenly burning eyes. Treacherously burning eyes. After kissing me and . . . and all the rest, he hadn’t cared what I did with another guy. It shouldn’t have stung. He wasn’t my boyfriend. But it had stung. It still did.
“Did you?”
I opened my mouth and then shut it with a snap. I didn’t owe him an explanation.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving my face. He started to move again, stalking me. I backed up into the kitchen area, deliberating avoiding the bed and futon. He followed.
“I hate that you might have been with him. That I taunted you into it. I want him to eat my fist if he even touched you, but it won’t change anything between us either.” His chest lifted on a breath. “I want you, Georgia.”
I sucked in a ragged breath. I’d backed up into the kitchen area. The table bumped the backs of my thighs.
“I-I wasn’t with him.” I didn’t have to tell him this, but the starkness of his gaze, the bluntness of his words compelled the words from me.
His features eased with relief. His eyes roamed my face and his voice came out hoarsely. “Tell me to leave.”
I blinked, confused and bewildered at the request. He stepped forward another pace until we were chest to chest.
My senses reeled, overwhelmed at his closeness, the push of his chest against my breasts, the breadth of him surrounding me.
“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his hands reaching for the hem of my dress. His gaze held mine for a fraction of a second, but I couldn’t find my voice.
In one swift move, he pulled my dress over my head, leaving me pressed between him and the table in nothing but black panties and bra.
The only sound was the distant hum of the bar below us and the rasp of our breath.
“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his voice harder, his eyes like flint.
When I didn’t say anything, his mouth covered mine and he simultaneously lifted me up on the table. He broke away for a split second to pull his shirt off, not giving me nearly enough time to appreciate that sight, and then his mouth came back down on mine, kissing me so hard that my head bent back.
With a move I could hardly process, he flicked open the clasp of my bra at my back. The black satin straps slid loose off my shoulders and I released my hands from where they clung to his biceps to shrug it free.
My legs came around his hips and his bigger hands were under me, cupping my bottom.
His lips moved against mine with the same request. “Tell me to leave.”
