Of Love & Regret (Madison & Logan 1)

“Answer my question,” he demanded, his jaw clenched. In that moment, he looked like a stranger to me. At one point in my life, I had thought I knew him so well. I knew what he looked like when he was happy, and I knew what he looked like when he was upset. The person in front of me was unrecognizable. He looked like someone hell bent on self-destruction.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said, trying to snap him back to his senses. “You said yourself that you wanted us to be friends. How do you expect that to happen when you ask me questions like that?”

“You still haven’t answered me,” he taunted, his eyes darkening. “Tell me you’re okay with it, and I’ll let you leave.”

“I’m okay with it!” I sputtered furiously. “I couldn’t care less whether you fuck her ten times a night! Now, get out of my way!”

I shoved his chest with my hand, furious that he was playing games with me. I had stupidly believed he truly wanted to be friends. Now I knew better.

Unfortunately, my attempt to physically remove him from my escape path was as effective as a flea pushing against a mountain. I made a sound of frustration, but when I glared at him, there was a look on his face that made me step back.

I took another step back when he advanced forward to match my retreat, but he just kept coming closer. I stopped when the back of my legs hit the bed. I put out a hand to warn him not to come any closer.

“I don’t know if you’re drunk right now or just being an asshole. Either way, you’re starting to really piss me off.”

Logan ignored me, and didn’t stop until he was just inches away. I felt captive as I tipped my head back to meet his gaze. I intended to show him how disgusted I was with my withering stare, but instead I swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement when I saw the way he was looking at me.

“Logan, I—”

Whatever I had been about to say was cut off when he lifted his hand and lightly traced the flesh just above the neckline of my dress with one finger. I sucked in my breath, far too affected by his touch. I had thought my dress was fairly modest, but now I felt completely exposed as he brushed his finger back and forth across the top of my breasts that were revealed by my dress.

“Stop,” I said weakly, not knowing what else to do.

“You look beautiful in this dress,” Logan said in a low voice. “Did you think about me when you put it on? Did you wear it to please me?”

“No, of course not!” I said emphatically, but my face flushed at his accusation because he was right. I had purposely chosen this dress because I thought he would like it.

“Liar,” he muttered, but his attention was focused on the finger that still swept leisurely across my chest.

Goose bumps rose all over my body, and I couldn’t deny the rush of heat his touch brought between my legs. I had to resist the urge to press my thighs together.

I tried not to react when he hooked his finger under the neckline and continued to lazily brush it back and forth. My hardened nipples were evident, even through the layers of my bra and the fabric of my dress. Logan seemed entranced as he continued to caress the flesh beneath my dress. I could barely suppress a whimper when he pushed in deeper so that his finger burrowed beneath my bra and brushed against my pebbled nipple. My clutch fell from my numb fingers and made a soft thud on the floor.

“Logan,” I choked out. “This isn’t right.”

My words had no effect on him as he focused his attention on my right nipple, sweeping his finger back and forth against it, igniting a fire in me. Each brush of his finger made it ache even more and it took everything I had not to fall back against the bed.

“Do you remember how it was between us?” Logan whispered, his eyes lifting to meet mine. His gaze was intense as he continued to tease my nipple. “Do you remember what it felt like to have me inside you?”

I couldn’t answer him. I was lost in a vortex of sensations that I had long forgotten. Only Logan could make me forget everything with one caress.

I gasped when he pulled down the neckline of my dress, exposing my right breast to his hungry eyes. Logan smiled grimly when I moaned as he flicked my nipple with his thumb, sending shockwaves of desire to my core.

“What do you want?” he asked in a guttural voice.

I shook my head, confused by his question. Everything—his apartment, the party, Emily and Kristina in the living room—receded into the background until there was nothing except me and Logan.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded in a raspy voice.

“I don’t know what you mean.” My voice was breathless and strained as panic started to mix in with my desire. What was happening right now? What was I allowing to happen?

“Do you want me to take your nipple in my mouth and suck on it? Do you want me to lift up your dress and press my tongue against your pussy? I bet it’s already wet and dripping. Do you want me to fuck you until you beg me to come inside you?”

I couldn’t deny the rush of wetness that his words produced, but I also felt like a bucket of cold water had been overturned on me. There was no real caring or desire in his words. He was just using me; getting even with me. This must be some sort of sick ploy to pay me back for all the pain I had caused him in the past. I was sorry for what I had done to him, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him play me for a fool.

I shoved hard against his chest, and he stumbled, taken off guard. I quickly pulled my dress up with trembling hands so I was no longer exposed to him. I felt so angry and betrayed that I was afraid I was going to burst into tears, but I swore I wouldn’t let him see how much he had hurt me.

“I don’t know what kind of sick and twisted game you’re playing rig