Page 19 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

My attention snaps to the side as I catch Wolfson and his wife rising. Whether they’re headed for the dance floor or something more private, I’m just relieved they’re looking elsewhere. With the scene heating, losing control seems dangerously close.

Sloane increases her pace, her motions becoming more deliberate as she rubs against me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my pulse rising, and I know I have to stop this now. I know I shouldn’t let her go on like this, but God, it’s so good, I don’t want to stop. No one has touched me for months, and I feel every moment of this abstinence.

But I have to be stronger than her right now because she doesn’t know what she’s doing, and I don’t take advantage of drunk women.

“You need to stop.” I try to grasp her waist and stop her gyrating, but she prevents me.

Sloane pulls back, her lips trailing to my ear. “I haven’t dry fucked someone since high school,” she breathes out, her words heavy with desire. “God, Logan Valeur, you’re driving me insane.”

The way she utters my name—a whisper laden with lust—nearly unravels me. She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder, her breaths quickening, her movements growing more intense .

“Did you come on him? The guy from high school?” I ask, not holding back.

“No. But I let him fuck me afterward. He was my first,” she murmurs, her teeth grazing my earlobe.

Fuck. My chest tightens.

“I’m close, Logan. I want to come with you.”

Damn, me too. A shiver runs down my spine, but I’m not ready—not ready to lose control. Not here—not like this. I lift her, despite her protests, her hands grappling to remain close.

I glance around, relieved to see that we’re still unnoticed. Wolfson and his party are absorbed in their dance.

Sloane’s body is slumped over mine, and she’s panting heavily. My cock twitches in my pants, and I try to arrange it so that it doesn’t hurt. God, it feels fucking awesome. I can’t take it anymore. This is torture.

“Let’s go.”

Sloane lifts her gaze to mine, her eyes shining, pupils wide. Her breath comes in short, eager gasps, and I can tell she’s on the edge. I commit the image to memory for later fantasies.

“Are we leaving?” she asks a trace of hope in her voice.

“Yes.”

Her smile is playful and tempting. “I was hoping we might sneak off to the bathroom first.”

I shut my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of her suggestion. “You’ve had too much to drink, Sloane. We should head out.”

“I’m not that drunk,” she insists, her voice thick with desire. “I want you, Logan. We both need this. Please. I need to come.”

“No. I should get you to bed. ”

Her eyes light up, misinterpreting my intent. “Yes.”

“To sleep. Just sleep,” I clarify as I steady her on her feet. I catch Wolfson’s eye on the dance floor and signal that we’re leaving.

“Leaving already?” Valentina pulls away from a kiss to look at us. “You just got here.”

“Sloane’s pretty out of it,” I explain. “Better to call it a night.”

“Yeah, I need cock.” Sloane’s words come out as a mutter and much too frank.

Valentina laughs. “Okay, I get it. It was nice meeting you both. Let’s do this again sometime.”

Wolfson nods, his attention already drifting back to his wife. “Yeah. Let’s schedule something.”

My brain does a victory gesture. “I’d love to.” I wrap my arms around Sloane’s waist and pull her behind me. She can barely stand on her feet.

I text my driver to get to the entrance. Standing outside, the crisp air seems to clear my head a bit. How did I let things go so far? The guilt sets in. What have I done? This isn’t me, or at least, it shouldn’t be. I’m better than this.

I hold Sloane steady, my mind racing with thoughts of responsibility and the need for restraint.

Sloan leans against me, her nose twitching as she inhales deeply. I furrow my brow, taking a step back to put some distance between us.

“What in the world are you doing?” I ask, perplexed by her sudden behavior.

She tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, just trying to figure out if you smell like sunshine or summer or maybe the earthy scent after a rainfall. ”

I stare at her. “I’m sorry, what?” Her words make no sense. Has she completely lost her mind?

She laughs, waving her hand dismissively. “You know, in the romance novels I read, the hero always has this incredible, intoxicating scent. Like earth, or the warmth of the sun on skin. I was curious if you had a similar scent.”

I lower my voice, leaning in slightly. “So, you think I could be the hero in one of your stories?”

She smirks, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Well, maybe not the hero. More like the villain.” Sloan giggles.

I furrow my brows.

She reaches up, her fingers stretching the corners of my mouth into a grin. “You really should smile all the time,” she declares. “You’re like a completely different person when you smile. More approachable. Sexy. Tempting.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

“Very. I want you,” she admits without a hint of hesitation, her gaze fixed on me with an intensity that’s both flattering and alarming.

I exhale slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I can think of ten reasons this is a very bad idea.”

“And I can think of twenty why it’s a great idea.”

“Sloane, you don’t know what you’re asking of me. You’re not talking sense, and you’ll regret it in the morning.” If you remember anything at all. I hope she doesn’t because I know she’ll be embarrassed as hell.

She puts her hand between her legs, and I hold my breath.

“I’m wet, Logan. Wouldn’t you like that to be your hand inside me right now?

” She pulls out her fingers, and they glisten with moisture.

“This is for you.” She slowly puts her finger in her mouth and licks it.

“Wouldn’t you like to be the one tasting me now?

Or maybe you don’t enjoy eating pussy? God, I would kill for a man to eat me right now. Johnny thought it was disgusting.”

I almost moan and pull at my pants to straighten them. Fuck. How am I supposed to withstand this? I’m not a monk. And whoever the hell Johnny is, I would be happy to kill him.

She reaches for my groin, and I grab her wrists. “Sloane, please stop.”

“I see you like it. I can help you with that. Don’t you want relief?” She goes for my zipper, and I restrain her as best I can without bruising her soft skin.

The car I ordered pulls up beside us, and I let out a sigh. All I need to do now is get her back to the apartment and into bed. Alone. Then I’ll deal with myself.

The ride to the apartment is short, but Sloane is already nodding off on my shoulder as the driver stops for us.

I carefully help her out of the car. She’s still standing but leaning heavily on me, her head drooping onto my shoulder. I’m relieved she’s almost asleep because at least now she isn’t trying anything.

“Have we arrived?” she asks, blinking slowly as I turn on the light.

“Yes, we’re here.”

“I need to throw up.”

“Shit.” I pull her toward the bathroom, getting her there just in time as she leans over the toilet and vomits. I hold her hair back from her face as she hunches over again.

Apparently finished, she plops down on the floor. “I think that’s it,” she groans. “No, not yet.” She leans over the toilet again and retches. I hold her hair and gently stroke her cheek, trying to soothe her .

I wait a few minutes to make sure she’s done, then I help her to her feet and wash her face.

“Drink,” I say, holding a glass of water to her lips, which she empties despite her protests. “You’re still going to have a nasty headache in the morning, but this will help a bit.”

She obediently finishes another full glass of water with her eyes closed.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“Yes, that’s good.” She smiles with her eyes half-closed.

I lay her on her bed, and she pulls me down with her, her soft body colliding with mine. I wait until she drifts to sleep, then I release her arms from around me so I can stand.

Staring down at her, I whisper, “You have no idea how much I want to make love to you, and you never will because it will never happen, and by morning you’ll forget all of this. Good night, beautiful Sloane.” I run my hand through her hair and briefly caress her face.

She sighs softly and stirs, causing my control to waver. I sigh, clench the edge of the blanket in my fist and cover her body.

I tasted her. I kissed her, and now I know how she feels, what she tastes like. And damn, I want more of her.

I head for the kitchen and pour myself a whiskey. I didn’t touch alcohol at the club, unlike the others, because I saw the evening as a business meeting, and I never drink at work meetings.

In fact, I hardly ever drink outside of home. I don’t trust anyone, and even with a little alcohol, a person risks lowering their guard. If there’s anything the past has taught me, it’s that if you lower your guard, someone will take advantage.

I down the whiskey in one gulp and grimace as the liquid burns my throat. I close my eyes and bring up her image—her flushed cheeks, her lips swollen from my kiss, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy. The image shifts, and I watch her licking her arousal in front of me.

I would want to make her climax on me, under me, on my mouth every day. But it must never happen. It cannot happen.