“Fuck, the taste of you.”
Their gazes met. Logan gave her a crooked smile that was so sexy she almost jumped out of the tub and tackled him.
It hit her then, the magnitude of what she’d just accomplished. Not the orgasm, though it was certainly stellar, but the fact that she had a man’s hands on her. In her. Bringing her pleasure that led to an orgasm. Plus, she’d closed her eyes. Surrendered not only to the incredible feelings Logan brought her body, but to him.
She trusted him, plain and simple.
And maybe, just maybe she trusted him enough to try even more with him. Another laugh almost escaped. Good thing she wasn’t seeing a therapist at the moment. They’d probably have her committed. Here she was, contemplating the possibility of sleeping with someone she’d already slept with a number of times.
The manner in which they had sex was the question of the hour. Could she trust him enough to have sex without tying him up?
Logan sighed and the smug look disappeared from his face. “Shit,” he said running a hand through his hair. “Wish I could watch you soak all afternoon, but Copper wants to meet with you. It’s the real reason I came looking for you during your workout. He wants to fill you and the rest of the ladies in on what exactly is going on with the lockdown and what the plan is from here.”
And pop. There went the bubble of happiness, burst by the sharp point of reality.
Fuck reality.
Chloe sat forward, shivering as she left the warmth of the water.
Logan rose and vacated the bathroom. Fifteen seconds later, he reappeared with an oversize towel. Well, oversize for her, probably just right for most of the giants in the MC. He reached out to her then hauled her up when she placed her hand in his. Before she’d even stepped out of the tub, she was engulfed in soft terrycloth. “I’m gonna run down and let Cop know you’ll be ready in few. You okay to get dressed and meet us down there?” As he spoke, he rubbed his large hands up and down her towel covered back. Worked wonders for chasing away the post-bath chill.
Chloe nodded. “Am I late?”
“Nah, you’re good. No rush.”
“Okay.”
With that, he gave her one of his infrequent genuine smiles. She filed it under rare and precious in her memory. Right up there with unicorns and fairytales. “Take your time. Copper can wait.” Then, to her complete and utter shock, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.
She blinked, stunned by the intimate move. It was such a loving gesture; one he’d never come close to doing before.
Wait…holy shit…they’d had sex half a dozen times, he’d made her come twice as many and they’d only kissed that one time in the diner. Their relationship was seriously fucked up.
Long seconds ticked by before she realized she was standing alone in the bathroom, shivering beneath the towel.
Might as well get dressed and head down to see what the head honcho wanted from her. Her stomach twisted. Copper couldn’t be pleased she was hiding out in his clubhouse. She was the girl who was supposed to stay far, far away from his MC. Not land at his doorstep engaged in some kind of complicated relationship with one of his men.
Silently, she worked a pair of black leggings up her slightly damp legs then shrugged into one of Logan’s Hell’s Handlers T-shirts. The thing was too large but smelled of him and gave her the childish impression she was wearing some kind of shield.
Depending on Copper’s mood, she might need it. She was a TV watcher. She knew the president of an outlaw motorcycle club could be ruthless, lethal, and cold as ice.
After sliding her feet into her favorite Toms, she reached for the door only to stop dead in her tracks.
“Oh, my God,” she said aloud. She was a first-rate bitch, worrying only about herself and wondering if the big bad president was going to growl at her.
Rocket was the one who’d been a step away from stalking her for the past few months. There was no way Copper would condone their relationship. What the hell would his punishment be?
Pins under his toenails? Balls in a vice? Cleaning the clubhouse toilets?
She wrinkled her nose and opened the door, stomach twisting and turning around on itself. As much as she feared the wrath of the MC president, she wasn’t about to let Rocket take the blame for her being there. She was going to stand up for her man.
Her man? If by her man, her brain meant the man who pity fucked her, then she guessed he was her man.
Sounded kinda nice.
Her man.
Crap, she was in so much trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE MOMENT CHLOE entered the room, Rocket’s senses popped and fizzled, making him acutely aware of her presence. Not something he’d ever attempt to unpuzzle. He simply accepted that he seemed to have developed Chloe-dar. It wasn’t a tangible or explainable concept. Just a feeling. A tingle arose at the base of his spine and along the back of his neck, alerting him to her presence. Sounded like voodoo shit he’d have busted a gut over should any of his brothers have claimed the same thing with regards to a woman, which meant he’d be keeping his trap shut about it. He glanced at her and had to swallow a groan. Did she have to wear his T-shirt? Now all he could think of was his scent coating her skin, sinking into her pores the way he wanted to sink into her body.