Page 20 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

Chapter Sixteen

SLOANE

I toss and turn in bed, the pain pounding in my head like tiny hammers.

Squinting one eye open, I thank God the room is dark. Rolling onto my side, I peer at the tall glass of water and pills next to my bed. Did Logan leave these for me? Barely lifting my head, I swallow them down.

What happened yesterday?

We were at the club, dancing…

I drank too much. That I remember.

I knew I was drinking more than I could handle, but I was so nervous, and the alcohol helped me relax. And then, the way Logan looked down on me pissed me off.

He treated me like a child. Just because he told me to stop, I downed a few more shots. Flashes of me sitting on his lap, grinding against him and kissing him, float before my eyes. An amazing, sensual kiss.

Did I kiss The Dark Lord?

No way. My fantasies must be playing tricks on my mind again.

Shit. I hope so. Or do I?

Glancing down, I notice the black lace dress still clinging to my body. I’m still wearing my dress, and I’m in my room, so we probably didn’t sleep together.

Slowly, I get up, leaning against the wall for a moment until the world around me stabilizes, then stumble to the shower.

I brace myself and peek in the mirror to see my hair hanging around my face in tangled knots, my makeup smeared under my eyes. I look terrible. I’d say I look like a raccoon, but that would be an insult to the raccoon, and I love animals.

I shower, relishing the hot water for long minutes as I scrub the makeup from my face. Somewhat refreshed and dry, I get dressed, comb my hair, and feel like myself again.

My stomach grumbles, demanding food, but I hesitate at the door.

What if he’s still in the apartment?

I have no choice. I’ll have to face him sometime, so I might as well rip the band-aid off.

I open the door and stop to listen. Nothing. Silence. I tiptoe toward the living room, peering around the corner to see if he’s there.

“Looking for something?”

I yelp and turn around. “Jesus! Why are you sneaking up behind me?”

“Me, sneaking?” He twists his mouth. “I just came out of my room. You’re the one plastered against the wall, peeking around like a thief.”

“I thought I heard a burglar,” I lie.

He narrows his eyes. “A burglar, huh?” He steps around me and glances into the kitchen.

“Yes,” I say, straightening. “But there’s no one. It’s fine.”

“Glad to hear it. How’s your head?”

“Better, thanks.” I lower my gaze. “Umm...”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t remember much of last night. Did I do anything embarrassing? We didn’t sleep together, right?”

“Sloane,” he says in a low voice that makes my insides quiver with anticipation, “if we had slept together, it wouldn’t be something you’d forget, I promise you that.”

I press my legs together and swallow hard. He seems to know exactly what to say, how to pluck my strings.

“So, nothing happened?” I ask in a shaky voice. An image of me shamelessly straddling him and grinding against him floats through my mind. Was that real or not?

He locks his gaze with mine, and I hold my breath. The air seems to thicken around us, saturated with desire.

I want to touch him, explore his body with my hands and mouth, but I just stand there, frozen. His clear eyes stare straight into me, looking thoughtful as if weighing what to say.

The silence stretches on for what feels like long seconds before he says, “Nothing happened.”

I release the breath trapped in my lungs. So, the kiss was only in my imagination .

“Great. And what about the deal? Did you close it?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet, but it looks like we’re on the right track.”

I nod, lowering my gaze, and scanning his shoes, then up to his... “You’re wearing workout clothes.”

“Aren’t you observant,” he quips.

I lift my eyes to meet his again. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m going to work out a bit while waiting for Wolfson’s answer. The ball is in his court.”

“Do you run? Can I join?”

“You run?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, sure.” From the fridge to the TV, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, I’m not going running. I’m going to train in Taekwondo.”

I open my mouth and close it again.

“It’s a Korean martial art of kicking and punching?—”

“I know what it is,” I cut him off. “You practice martial arts?”

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“Actually, no.” The way he moves with agility and speed, his lean body without an ounce of fat… The blows he dealt that scumbag without getting hurt... Yeah. It fits. “Can I still join?”

“Why?”

“Just to watch. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t you rather go sightseeing? It’s your first time in London. Why would you want to watch me train?”

I lower my gaze. Yes, I want to explore, but how do I explain to him I’m also so alone? I’m alone at home too, but there I have Emery filling the silences and a few other friends. I have my home and my space. Here, I’m completely on my own.

“What’s wrong, Sloane?” He closes the distance between us, his fingers lifting my chin until my eyes meet his. “Everything okay?”

“Y–yeah, of course.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales loudly before looking at me again. “You’re lying to me. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand and can’t forgive, it’s lies. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” I insist. “Really. I’m not lying, I’m just...lonely.”

“Lonely?” He tilts his head.

“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

I see sincerity in his eyes. He’s trying to understand.

I lick my lips. “I don’t know anyone here.

I’m sightseeing, seeing beautiful things, but I have no one to share them with, and it makes me feel even more lonely than usual.

So, I thought, if you’re going to train, maybe I could watch you for a bit, feel a little less alone. That’s all.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay? I can come?”

“If you really want to. I’m not sure what you’ll do there, but that’s your business.”

I smile. “Give me five minutes to change.”

The sound of the impact makes me flinch, and I avert my gaze. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to accompany Logan here. The sparring looks so...violent. And I feel out of place as I wait for him to change clothes.

I survey the gym. In the center are two rings, one occupied by two fighters wearing uniforms and pads on their chests and shins, their heads protected by helmets. They strike at each other with kicks aimed mercilessly at the head. I’m fascinated and repulsed at the same time.

I turn my gaze to the training area over to one side, where there are several exercise machines and a few human-shaped punching bags. My eyes are drawn to a man punching one of them. He’s not wearing a shirt.

His muscles stretch and contract with each blow, his body slick with sweat. Damn, I must be in a bad state if I’m getting turned on by a sweaty and probably stinky man, but fuck, he looks hot.

“Like what you see?”

I jump in my seat. “Fuck, Logan! You have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. You were just very focused on the...view.”

His lips stretch into a small smile, and my breath catches. He’s so beautiful when he smiles. “You should smile?—”

“All the time,” he finishes for me, but the gorgeous smile vanishes from his face. “Yeah, you already told me that. ”

I tilt my head. “When did I say that? I don’t remember admitting—I mean, saying anything like that.”

He shrugs. “Never mind. Maybe I got confused.”

“So why don’t you smile more?”

“Guess I don’t have many reasons to.”

“That’s sad,” I mumble. “Everyone needs reasons to smile.” I turn my head back to the sparring mats. “Why are you wearing workout clothes and not a uniform like them?”

“Because what they’re wearing is specifically for sparring, and I didn’t schedule a match. This isn’t my home club, and I rarely fight here. Just came for a quick training session. Come on.”

I follow him to the corner of the club, sneaking a quick glance at the shirtless man. If Logan wasn’t here, maybe I’d dare to talk to the guy, but with Logan scrutinizing my every move, no chance.

I sit on the bench against the wall, in a spot where I can watch Logan.

This is weird.

I shouldn’t have come. I look like some groupie following him around and ogling him.

Logan stretches, raising his arms above his head, and I try hard not to stare at the narrow strip of skin exposed to my eyes. Solid, chiseled abs and golden skin.

I cross my legs. Maybe I am a groupie.

From the moment Logan starts training, my eyes are locked on him, and I forget about the man I saw earlier. Logan looks like a lethal panther, moving with grace, executing the familiar motions.

He moves, almost effortlessly, delivering precise kicks to the bag one after another at a rapid pace. The power is evident in his every motion, a veiled threat.

I bite my lower lip as beads of sweat dampen his brow, and he pauses for a moment, pulling his shirt over his head, wiping his face and tossing the shirt to the floor beside me.

My heart rate spikes as his glistening muscles are revealed to my eyes. Fuck. His body is perfect, lean and muscular, but not too much. Just my type.

I stare at his sculpted chest and abs, the way his muscles flex as he performs the movements, dominating the mat and controlling his body flawlessly.

He executes double and triple kicks, appearing to soar through the air. Who would have thought Taekwondo training could be so arousing? Maybe I should learn.

How would it feel to run my tongue over his body? To taste the saltiness of his skin, to be on the receiving end of all that pent-up energy, when his strong arms grip my body, when he slams into me.

God. It’s scorching. I press my legs tightly together.

He finishes the workout and approaches me, and I try to return to reality. He stands in front of me, attempting to regulate his breathing. His chest rises and falls, and glistening beads of sweat trace a path down his neck. I follow it with my eyes down to his sculpted abs.