Beg for Me (Be for Me 2)

“Why no toys?”

“P-premeditation.”

“So if it’s spontaneous, it’s okay?” he laughed again. “Seems a very strange set of rules to me.”

“The full p-penetration thing is different. It just is.” She shrugged, determined to keep her cool. “Maybe more for women than men, I don’t know. But it’s d-different for me.”

Well, it would be with Logan, she just knew it. He’d turned her on more than any other man just with his tongue, if he wielded the full might of his experience on her, she wasn’t sure she’d come out with her heart intact.

“Fair enough.” He looked thoughtful. “And is this going to work both ways? Or is it just me doing things to you?”

“I’m n-not sure,” she said vaguely, trying to banish the sudden vision of straddling him and licking her way down those rock-hard, ridged abs. “I guess that’ll depend on my mood. It’ll all depend on my m-mood.”

“So it’s all within your control.” He chuckled. “You like to play more than you want to admit.” He lifted his hand and tugged her braid so her head tilted back, baring her throat to him. He leaned in, pressing his weight against her. “You think you can play with me like a cat does a canary?”

Oh she so wasn’t the cat in this situation. But right now she wanted to taste him. Except she’d better not. She’d be sliding onto him before she realized what she was doing. She was not giving him what he wanted.

For once Logan wasn’t getting it all too easy.

“So I can kiss you and touch you as much as I like so long as I don’t shove my cock inside you, have I got that right?” he asked.

Oh, did he have to be so blunt? And say such things when he was standing so close she could feel his breath brushing over her lips?

“If I’m in the m-m-mood, then yeah, that’s pretty m-much it.” Breathless she looked up at him as she whispered. “But if you don’t want to do anything, that’s fine too.”

As if she could take it or leave it? As if she weren’t desperate for him to touch her again—to kiss her. Like everywhere?

“It’ll be really interesting to see how long you last before you try p-p-pushing me to breach my boundaries,” she said, getting in before he could. She just knew he was sizing her up and having a private bet on how long she’d last before she was begging him to take her all the way.

“I don’t think I’m going to need to push very hard,” he said softly. “I think you’ll be begging me to fuck you all the way in no time.”

“I never beg.”

He smiled.

She rolled her eyes. “And of course you take that as a challenge.”

“Because you meant it as one.”

Had she?

“Because you’re challenging me,” he added. “You don’t think I can last long without trying to get my cock inside you.”

She shook her head, of course she didn’t. She could feel his cock right now, pressing hard against her belly. Impressive it was too. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“You still think I can’t control myself?” He ground his hips against her in a slow circle that almost made her moan aloud. “I can hold out babe, you have no idea what my self-control is like. So I take up your challenge. I’ll make you come again and again. But I won’t come unless I’m inside you. And I won’t come inside you until you beg me to. Breathlessly beg me to fuck you.”

“Those exact words?”

“Please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me,” he said soft and fast and punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips against hers. “That’ll be acceptable.”

Oh like she could ever do that? It would take her five minutes to stammer that out and the heat would have so fizzled.

Like it had just fizzled now. She felt like iced water had been thrown over her.

“In your d-d-dreams,” she stammered. “J-j-jerk. We’ll see how long you last.”

“Longer than you.” He walked away from her. “I won’t have to wait long at all.”

Chapter Twelve

#NeedAnotherColdShower

Logan stood under the shower and let the frigid water sluice down his burning body. It hurt. Hardening up wasn’t an option. He couldn’t get harder.

But he’d felt worse pain on the ski-slopes, he wasn’t letting this woman get to him. She wasn’t winning this war.

He could respect her boundaries. Of course he could. Totally lame-ass boundaries though they were. But he’d play this game to its inevitable conclusion.

She didn’t think he’d last more than a few hours. And he didn’t blame her—not when he’d said he wouldn’t kiss her and then sucked her off only hours later.

But she was wrong on this.

Ms Mass-of-Contradictions was the one who wouldn’t last more than a few hours. So hot, so keen, yet so silent. Even as she’d come she’d stayed quiet. But he wasn’t letting her win. Next time he’d make her scream for him.

Beyond begging.

When he emerged from the shower, she wasn’t in the office. Her bedroom door was shut, he guessed she was taking a shower to cool down too.

Damn if that didn’t get him to thinking.

He prowled into the kitchen, needing a displacement activity. Something to put his creativity to use with, because his brain was sending him all kinds of inappropriate ideas. Ways to fall in with her ‘rules’—ways that would have her crying for him to break them even as she came.

Ten minutes later she walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans, ugly slippers and a giant sweater. Like she was trying to hide her assets?

Too damned late.

He too had donned denim, needing the firm fabric to keep himself in check. But he hadn’t bothered with shoes, and had pulled on a light tee. She seemed to like him in those.

She halted halfway into the kitchen, eyes narrowing in suspicion as she looked at him. “You’re actually cooking this time?”

“You look so surprised.” Theatrically he pressed a hand to his chest as if she’d mortally wounded his heart. “Haven’t you learned anything about me in the last twenty-four hours or am I still just the dumb model to you?”

Something hot flashed in her gaze but then she glanced away, scoping the piles of chopped veg on the counter. “I know you can blend.”

“Oh I can bake too, babe. And I can burn.”

“How appetising,” she said slowly, her chin lifting in determined defiance of his so-lame innuendo. “Charred f-f-food is carcinogenic.”

“And of course you’d never risk trying something that might be bad for you? So sad,” he shook his head dolefully. “So stifled…”

He watched her iron out her mutinous expression with a determined glint in her eyes.

“But I have just the thing.” He smiled when her gaze sharpened on him again. “We’re heading out of town tomorrow. You’ll need enough clothes to last a weekend. And you’ll need a party dress—you got something with you?”

“P-p-party dress?” She looked so aghast he had to bite the side of his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh.

“Yeah, you have one? We have time to shop in the morning if not.” He waited to see how that idea would sit with her.

She looked stunned. “You n-n-never said anything about g-g-going away?” Frustration carved lines into her forehead.

He ignored the stutter, knowing she was thrown and mad about it. “Didn’t I?” he asked innocently. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“What aren’t y-y-you…” She drew in a deep breath. “Telling me? Why the d-d-dress?”

Logan watched her, his amusement dying. That hunted expression in her eyes? Doubts flooded him as he saw that.

“It’s okay,” he explained, dropping all tease from his manner. “It’s just a weekend away… at Summerhill.”

She swallowed. “Your family ski resort?”

He nodded, he’d give her the finer details of the whole nightmare when she wasn’t so freaked. “Just a couple nights.”

“Why?”

&n

bsp; “I have to go.” And he so didn’t want to.

She picked up the cutlery he’d left on the counter, fiddling with jerky, nervous fingers. “I don’t need to go with you. I could stay here.”

“You’re coming.” For once he didn’t smile at that lame innuendo. Nor did she.

“Why?”

He hesitated. “There’s a party I have to go to, they’ll expect you to be there.” And he needed her at his side.

She paled. “A p-p-p...?”

She looked like he felt about it—sick.

“We don’t have to stay for long,” he said. “Just show up for a while and make a quick exit.” He pulled on a smile. “We act like we can’t keep our hands off each other and have to go somewhere private within the first hour.”

Now color flooded her face and she turned away. “You d-don’t want to go.”

“I have to.” He watched her shoulders lift slightly as she drew in measured, calming breaths.

“How long have you known about it?” she eventually asked.

He didn’t answer.

When she turned back to face him her expression had hardened. “Ages?” She stomped towards him. “Is this why you insisted on this whole fiancée fiasco?”