Page 21 of Logan

Not sexual, my ass.

I remove my jacket and drape it over a chair. I sense her gaze lingering on me, observing my every move. Her legs are pressed together, a subtle gesture that doesn’t escape my notice. Maybe I wasn’t mistaken earlier.

Despite knowing that nothing will ever happen between us, the notion of her entertaining the idea is gratifying to my ego.

I comply with her instruction, lying down on the sofa on my stomach.

“Try to relax,” she suggests.

I close my eyes as Sloane’s hands work their magic, kneading the tension from my tight shoulder muscles. Damn, she’s good. With each firm squeeze between my shoulder blades, a low moan escapes my lips.

“Can I touch your hair?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

With my mind foggy from pain, I can only manage a low growl in response. At this point, I’d agree to anything if it means she keeps those skilled hands on me.

Sloane’s hands glide into my hair, her touch gentle yet firm as she massages my scalp. Then she pulls.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This is amazing.

“Where did you learn to do that?” I mutter, my voice thick with relief.

“Like I said, my mother suffers from headaches. Is it helping?” Her tone is soft, filled with concern.

“Damn, that’s great.” I exhale, and the tension in my muscles melts away. The throbbing ache in my head persists, but it’s dulled now and manageable.

“You’re completely seized up. All your muscles are tense.”

It’s been a stressful period lately, to say the least. The weight of the company’s future rests on my shoulders. The pressure is almost suffocating.

Sloane takes my arm and places it in her lap, her skilled fingers working their way from my shoulder down to my armmuscles. I’m grateful for the barrier of my shirt, yet her touch still ignites a fire within me.

I sense her arousal, can practically taste it in the air. If I were to make a move, she’d welcome it with open arms, I’m sure of it. The temptation is undeniable, and I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have her beneath me. And damn, the thought of being with her sends a surge of desire coursing through me.

But she’s my employee. Crossing that line would be a huge mistake.

With a sudden resolve, I sit up. “That’s enough. Thanks.”

She looks at me with her doe eyes wide open and brimming with emotion, the pull of her desire outweighing any apprehension.

It’s fascinating how transparent people can be, how they lay their feelings bare for someone like me to exploit. If I were anyone else, she’d already be naked beneath me.

“Thanks. I’ll go get some rest now.” Grabbing my jacket, I make my way to my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stare at the untidy sheets she left behind. Her scent lingers in the air, a heady mix of roses, vanilla, and desire.

They say that sexual attraction is heavily influenced by scent, and right now, I can’t help but agree.

My sheets carry her essence, but indulging in fantasies about her is a slippery slope fraught with complications. It’s best to push those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand.

Chapter Seven

SLOANE

The bedroom door slams shut, and I bury my burning face in my hands, overwhelmed by a flood of regret. What did I do wrong? Well, besides the obvious slip of insulting him.

I shake my head, unable to believe the words that escaped my lips. Calling my boss a son of a bitch? It’s like I’m begging him to fire me.