Dirty Ties

Sitting sideways on his lap, I pushed my hands through the gelled-up hair above his ears and tipped his head so I could see his face. “Keep going.”

He looked at me with shock then licked his bottom lip as if he wanted to kiss me. His eyes shut, opened. “My mother told me once to take her diary and disappear if anything ever happened to her.” He traced a finger along my bicep, watching the movement with unfocused eyes. “So I did. Ended up on the streets in Chicago. Eventually got picked up and put in a boys’ home. I’d read her diary by then and knew I had to keep my identity a secret.”

He was just a boy when he watched the slaughter of his mother. Forced into a nightmare of choices alone. God, I hurt with him, my breath tightening around the burn in my throat.

To think Collin and I were raised by the hand responsible for his pain, yet we didn't suffer for anything except our parents love. Logan had to fight for everything. He put himself through MIT. Became the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Though he acquired the job—my job—through blackmail, he’d earned the qualifications required to lead. Really fucking amazing, actually.

I lay my cheek on his shoulder, my arm around his chest, and listened to his rumbling voice as he detailed the contents of his mother’s diary, the leads she’d scraped together, and her plan to go after Trenchant.

His hand moved to my leg as he talked, his thumb tracing the seam of my pants along my inner thigh. I bit down on my lip, trying and failing to ignore the flutter he produced inside me.

He shifted deeper into the chair, pulling my side closer to his chest. “Trent didn’t know he had another son until I gave him that envelope five days ago. I have no idea if he shared the news with your family.”

Collin would’ve told me if he knew. “Why did you tell him you’re his son? He has no loyalties to his family. No qualms about sending Collin to prison.”

The natural arch of his right eyebrow twitched. “I presented myself as the bastard son who feels entitled to his father’s wealth and power. It was a motivation for my blackmail, one he relates to and therefore doesn’t question.”

When our gazes met, I saw the real reason he was here. The deep, angry pain beneath the shadowy lines of his brow. The need for revenge possessed him, controlled his life, and drove him to succeed.

If Trent sent Collin to prison or had him killed, how far would I go to get even? Just thinking about it made me see Logan’s anger in a new light. The sense of loss I’d felt over the past five days paled in comparison.

He had no one through his childhood hardship. I had Collin through my five-day scorn.

But I didn’t have Collin in the way Logan was looking at me now.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my jaw. “I’ll never grow tired of looking at you.”

My eyes threatened to close, so I locked my concentration on the tension in his thighs under mine, the steady breaths pushing past his lips, and the swallow crawling beneath his tie. When I glanced up, the desolation and longing in his eyes reflected my deepest ache.

An ache that he’d exploited to get what he wanted. A bitter thought whispered through my head. I could seduce him, use him for my own pleasure, and toss him away. Right now, I was the one with the power to hurt.

But I didn’t want to add to the heartache in those molten-gold eyes. I’d rather challenge him. Tease him just enough then stand back and watch him burn. And maybe, just maybe, his burning need for me would turn into the fight he promised.

I shifted my body to straddle his lap. His mouth opened immediately, reaching to take mine. I gripped his face, held my parted lips an inch from his, and gloried in the push and shove of our clashing breaths. His lips were so close they heated mine, but our mouths didn’t touch.

The longer I held that tenuous inch between us, the harder our breaths pumped, neither of us relinquishing eye contact. His fingers dug into my hips, my muscles wincing from the punishment. But another sensation rolled through my body, an intoxicating heat, chasing away the cold emptiness that lived inside me.

He pushed his face against the hold of my hands, trying to close that final inch. I leaned back when he shoved forward, a back and forth battle of open mouths and wet exhales, his desperation to kiss me a heady aphrodisiac. His body surrounded me with an invigorating warmth of energy, his chest so fucking hard I wanted to strip his suit and tie and worship the rough-hewn sculpture of his muscles.