Page 23 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

Chapter Eighteen

SLOANE

I rise from the bed, wincing at the soreness between my legs. Damn, he was right. There’s no mistaking what we did last night—it was intense. But fuck, it was worth every toe-curling, back-arching moment.

Logan spoiled me rotten, bringing me food and letting me rest and recharge. But round two proved even more hardcore than the first.

The insatiable man wasn’t satisfied with wringing just one mind-melting orgasm from my quivering body or limiting our encounters to a single time.

This man knows how to fuck so goddamn well.

I’m officially crowning last night as the best, most explosive sex of my life. Granted, I’m not exactly a woman of vast experience, but Logan definitely secured the top spot on my shortlist.

It baffles me he’s gone so long without touching a woman. With his skills, he should dole out earth-shattering orgasms all day, every day, leaving a trail of lucky, satisfied ladies in his wake. Womankind is seriously missing out.

I spy Logan’s crisp button-down shirt draped over the chair and narrow my eyes, an idea taking shape. That’s what I’ll wear.

Just like in all the romance books, the oversized shirt will hang nearly to my knees, and then I’ll go make cereal in the kitchen, and he’ll wake up and think I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on, looking all rumpled and tempting in his clothes.

Brilliant plan.

I slip the shirt on and start buttoning it up, my tongue poking out the corner of my mouth in concentration.

Fuck.

Whoever designed this shirt clearly didn’t account for breasts larger than mosquito bites. I suck in a deep breath and tug the shirt harder, trying to force the stubborn buttons to close over my generous breasts.

No luck. It strains without budging.

Determined, I suck in my stomach until the muscles quiver and squish my boobs, huffing and puffing from the effort as I barely fasten the buttons.

Success! I can barely breathe, but who cares about oxygen when you look this good, right?

The rustle of sheets has me glancing over my shoulder. Logan lies on his side amidst the tangled bedding, propped up on one elbow, watching me with an amused glint in his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m borrowing your shirt. Hope you don’t mind. ”

“All your clothes are in the other room. Why do you need my shirt?” One dark eyebrow quirks upward.

“Because it’s sexy?” I strike a little pose, one hand on a cocked hip.

His eyes rake over my body, taking in the obscene way the fabric pulls across my chest. “Hmmm...”

“What? Not sexy?” Frowning, I stride over to the mirror and examine my reflection. The poor shirt is stretched drum-tight, looking ready to burst at the seams, the perilous ledge of my breasts threatening to spill out at any moment.

He’s right, I look ridiculous, not alluringly rumpled and tempting like I’d envisioned.

I exhale in a loud gust...and one straining button finally surrenders under the extreme duress, popping right off and pinging across the hardwood floor.

I stare after it, my eyes wide and mouth agape, as it rolls and rolls, disappearing into the dark void under the bed. “Dammit.”

Behind me, Logan erupts into deep, uninhibited laughter. Real, genuine laughter that shakes the bed and fills the room.

I whirl around to face him, astonished. “What is that sound?”

“What?” he asks between chortles.

“That sound you’re making. I’ve never heard it before. Are you okay? Are you sick?” I press the back of my hand to his forehead in mock concern, fighting to suppress my grin.

“Haha,” he drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes even as his lips keep twitching.

“Damn, you need to laugh like that all the time.” I lean in close until our lips almost touch, my hair falling around us in a curtain. “It’s such a fucking turn-on hearing you laugh,” I murmur, closing the scant distance to capture his smiling mouth in a searing kiss.

He responds immediately, his tongue delving past my parted lips to stroke against mine as he pulls me down onto his chest.

Mmm , the man can kiss. I lose myself in the sensual slide of lips and tongues, desire warming my blood.

The atmosphere shifts, thickening with renewed hunger as our heart rates rev to a gallop. Without breaking the kiss, I hurry to undo the remaining buttons straining across my chest until the shirt falls open.

Well, we’ve already established that we’re going to spend the day fucking like wild animals, so I might as well take advantage of every single second. Besides, this man is a god amongst men in the sack...and our time together is limited.

Logan trails his lips down the side of my throat, his teeth nipping sharply before his tongue soothes the sting. “You’re insatiable, you know that? Horny all the damn time.”

“And you fucking love it,” I gasp as he finds a sensitive spot behind my ear. “Admit it.”

“I do. I fucking love it,” he agrees shamelessly, sliding his hand up my bare thigh. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth, still laden with another piece of the heavenly bacon Logan fried up for me this morning.

Who would have thought mind-blowing sex would awaken such a ravenous appetite? And hot damn, the man can cook too. I can’t stop eating, savoring each crispy, salty bite. How is it possible that everything he does is so flawless?

Logan furrows his brow, his chiseled features pinched as he gazes at his phone screen. “Valentina had such an incredible time the other night that she wants to have us over for dinner at their place.”

“And that’s a problem?” I eye the plate of food in front of him after demolishing my own.

“I don’t know. Are you willing to play the game for one more evening?” He glances at me, then pushes his plate toward me.

I take it and begin devouring his portion of the bacon. “Are we still playing?” After the number of orgasms I’ve experienced, I’m pretty dizzy. It doesn’t feel like a game anymore.

“We’re not a couple, Sloane. Just sex partners.” He studies my face. “I knew we shouldn’t have?—”

I set down the fork and place my hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I know we’re not a couple, and I didn’t mean it that way. I can play along for one more evening for the sake of the deal.” And for the orgasms afterward.

Logan nods, some of the tension draining from his posture. “Alright. So, we’ll go to dinner with them tomorrow night, then.”

Logan’s phone buzzes. His jaw tightens when he checks the screen, and he excuses himself from the table. Despite trying not to eavesdrop, fragments of his heated conversation drift over.

“You’ve gone too far this time... No, Lucas, this isn’t like your usual situations...” Logan’s voice rises sharply before dropping to a harsh whisper. “He’s making you do what? In this century?”

There’s a long pause where I can see Logan’s knuckles turning white around the phone.

“The board meeting on Friday... Yes, I know about the photos, but there has to be another way... For God’s sake, Lucas, just talk to Dad properly...”

When he returns to the table, his expression is darker than I’ve ever seen it.

I pretend to be absorbed in my food, but my mind is racing.

What kind of arrangement could be serious enough to make the carefree, playboy Lucas Valeur sound so desperate?

And what photos could be bad enough for their father to step in?

Logan’s phone buzzes again with a text. He glances at it, sighs, and turns his phone face-down on the table with unusual restraint.

The rest of breakfast passes with Logan more distracted than I’ve ever seen him. I catch him glancing at his phone several times, worry etched in the lines around his eyes.

Apparently, even the infamous playboy Lucas can’t charm his way out of whatever storm is brewing in the Valeur family.

“So, where are we going today?” I ask, excitement buzzing through my veins at the prospect of spending the day exploring London with him.

“You’ll just have to wait until this evening to find out,” he replies with a mysterious half-smile, his eyes glinting.

“Ugh, fine. Keep your secrets.” I pout. “So...seeing as we’re going to pretend to be a couple one more time, can I ask you some more getting-to-know-you questions?”

“Questions? ”

“Yeah, to continue our little question game from before. If we’re going to keep up this ‘couple’ charade, maybe we should continue to learn about each other. Dinner at their house sounds like something that will require actual conversation to pull off.”

“Fair enough,” Logan concedes with a slight dip of his chin. “Fire away.”

“Well, for starters, where are we going later?” I try again, batting my lashes in a terrible attempt at coquettish flirting.

“Nice try,” he snorts, rolling his eyes. “I already answered that question. Wait. Until. This. Evening.” He over-enunciates each word, his expression hardening into a facade of sternness. “And you just wasted a question.”

I stick my tongue out at him. “That’s not fair.”

Logan chuckles, a rich, warm sound that sends pleasant shivers cascading down my spine. “Not my fault,” he says with a shrug. “What’s your idea of the perfect date?”

“Are you asking because you don’t have plans for tonight and want to know what to do?” I finish the last piece and place my hands on my stuffed belly.

He remains silent, pinning me with his gaze.

“Fine. The perfect date... I’m pretty romantic at heart, so it would have to be romantic.”

“Yeah, I think I figured that out already.”

“A night under the stars. Soft music playing, maybe some slow dancing. Delicious food and wine. And then just lying together on a blanket, gazing up at a velvet sky full of twinkling stars while…” My voice hitches.

“While my head rests on the chest of the man I love as he holds me close and whispers sweet words in my ear.” I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat, embarrassed by the raw yearning bleeding into my voice. “That would be the best date ever.”

Logan just watches me, his expression simultaneously soft and shuttered, giving nothing away.

“Okay, my turn now,” I say, desperate to lighten the moment. “What’s more important to you—love or money?”

“Money. Obviously,” he replies without hesitation, his face a stoic mask once more.

“You’re not serious.” I straighten.

“I’m always serious.”

“But… how can you possibly value cold, hard cash over the warmth of real love?” I shake my head.

“Because the brutal truth is most people will never experience that kind of deep, true love. Oh, they might convince themselves for a while that they’ve found their soulmate, but it’s just a pretty illusion that inevitably crumbles in the end, leaving nothing but scars behind.”

Weariness settles over his handsome features like a shroud.

“I always thought my parents had that coveted once-in-a-lifetime love, you know? But then, in those final few years before the accident, my mom could barely stand to look at my dad anymore as if the mere sight of him caused her physical pain.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, grief and long-buried anger warring in the depths of his haunted blue eyes.

“I learned the hard way that love, even the strongest one, is a volatile, fleeting thing. A mirage that slips through your fingers like smoke, no matter how desperately you try to hold on.”

“But money can’t buy happiness either,” I counter softly, reaching out to cover his fisted hand with my own. “And it sure as hell can’t fill the empty spaces in your soul.”

Logan huffs a mirthless chuckle, his mouth twisting into a pained approximation of a smile.

“No, I suppose not. But at least money is a tangible constant you can depend on. Love? Love is just a pretty fiction I’ve long since stopped aspiring to.”

My heart clenches at the resignation and loneliness saturating his every word.

“Let’s say I had the power to grant you one wish, right here, right now.

Anything your heart desires. What would you wish for?

” I whisper, desperate to give him…something.

Even if it’s just a moment of wistful pretending.

Logan’s gaze locks with mine, his sinful lips parting on a sharp inhale. Several moments tick by in charged silence as he wars with himself, the muscles of his neck corded with strain.

Finally, he wets his lips and rasps a single word. “Belonging.”

“‘Belonging’?” I echo, something hot and tight lodging itself in my chest. “Belonging…where?”

A bleak hint of melancholy dulls the vivid blue of his eyes before he blinks and shuts the emotion away. The glimpse of raw, aching vulnerability disappears, hidden once more behind his usual unreadable mask.

“Just forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter.” He pushes away from the table, his chair scraping across the tile with a harsh screech and straightens to his full imposing height. “I have some errands to run before tonight. I’ll see you later.”

And just like that, he strides away, his broad back rigid and his footsteps hurried. Fleeing before I can draw a breath to respond.