Page 5 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

“You aren’t thinking clearly.” Logan strode back to her. “Let’s just acknowledge some things between us.”

“What things?” Claire watched him warily, taking a step back until the backs of her knees pressed against the sofa cushion. When Logan examined her with that scorching gaze, she felt giddy.

Yes, giddy, ridiculous as that was.

“First of all,” he murmured, skimming the back of his hand across her jaw. “I want you.” Ever so slightly, he turned his hand until he cupped the side of Claire’s face. “And second, you want me. Third, we have fantastic sex together.”

“Oh really?” Claire tried to sound aloof and unimpressed, but her voice gave her true feelings away. “Before, you said it was just nice.”

“Understatement of the millennium,” he said, his other hand cupping the base of her skull, his fingers sinking into her hair. “Don’t you agree?”

Logan’s mouth was so close Claire lost her ability to utilize her common sense. She nodded, knowing she’d agree to anything he said.

He lowered his head, grazing her ear with his lips as he spoke.

“We’re good together. In bed and out of it.

There’s no reason why we can’t enjoy a partnership.

” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making Claire shiver.

“You’re single. I’m single. Think of how well we did together on the Pierpont account.

” Logan kissed the side of her neck, his hot, velvety tongue licking a path to her collarbone. “It can only get better.”

Claire knew one way it could certainly get better. If he kissed her. Through the cloud of desire currently fogging her brain, she knew Logan was trying to seduce her into agreeing to stay at LM. But she didn’t really care right now. She just wanted that brooding mouth on hers.

He began talking again, planting soft kisses on the side of her neck in between words. Claire interrupted him.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?” He stilled, tilting his head back to meet her gaze.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Happy to.”

In the next instant, his mouth was on hers. And it wasn’t a sweet, soft kiss either. It didn’t initiate. It demanded. It was a fiery, hungry kiss that was all about two people who had waited too long to get what they both wanted. Each other.

Logan kissed Claire as if he wanted to consume her, slanting his lips over hers with just enough pressure to make her quiver.

He sucked her lower lip and a tiny moan escaped her.

He crushed her closer to him, his tongue sweeping ruthlessly into her mouth.

Her tongue meshed with his, slipping inside his mouth to taste him.

He tasted like the wine he’d consumed with dinner, sweet and seductive.

In the far corner of her mind, Claire conceded defeat. The two of them together defied description. Being with him, touching him, was more than electric, more than white lightning striking her. When he touched her, kissed her, she became a new woman, a vibrating, sensual, alive woman.

Being with Garrett had always been safe, comfortable even.

But being with Logan was wild, exciting…

frenetic. She’d been sleeping through life, not knowing what she’d been missing in her humdrum existence.

Then Logan Monroe had kissed her lips and showed her a world of passion.

And like a greedy kid opening presents on Christmas morning, she wanted more.

A moan rose in her throat and she reached down to yank Logan’s shirt from his trousers and slide her hands up over his smooth, well-muscled stomach and chest. Somehow, his hand migrated to her breast, cupping it firmly. She arched. He made a low sound of satisfaction deep in his throat.

More, she thought, more. She wanted Logan’s skin on her skin, him on top of her, inside her, in a thousand different ways. In his arms, Claire forgot everything and everyone but him. He became the center of her every sensation, every thought.

“God I want you,” Logan murmured against her mouth. “Now.”

“Yes,” the word hissed from her lips. She kissed him again, her tongue teasing the corner of his delicious mouth.

She tore at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons and popping half of them off as she pushed his shirt to the floor.

Finally, she was free to explore the broad, deeply defined plane of his back.

A shrill noise invaded her consciousness once, twice, then three times.

It occurred to her that the annoying noise was actually emanating from the cordless phone on a nearby table.

With the greatest of reluctance, Claire pulled away from him.

She admired him for a moment, six-foot-plus of half-naked, highly aroused, very gorgeous man.

“I have to get that,” she managed, not quite certain if she was trying to convince Logan or herself.

“The hell with the goddamn phone,” he growled, looking frustrated.

For a brief moment, Claire found herself hypnotized by his beautifully sculpted chest. Then she shook her head. “No. I can’t. It might be my sister.”

Before she could change her mind, Claire turned and grabbed the phone, hitting the talk button without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” She sounded breathless.

“Claire, it’s me,” came an unexpected voice on the other end of the line.

“Garrett.” She glanced back at Logan, who was sporting a murderous scowl. “Now’s not really a good time.”

There was silence for a few seconds as Garrett digested that. Logan bent and retrieved his shirt, stuffing his arms into the sleeves with angry motions.

“I get it,” Garrett said, sounding hurt. “The ink’s not even dry on the divorce papers yet. Is someone there with you?”

“No,” she denied, sending Logan an apologetic look with her eyes. “I’m just tired. Let’s talk later. Please.”

Logan cast her another dark look and spun on his heel, striding from the room. She didn’t want him to leave, not like this.

“I’ll call you,” she told Garrett, barely waiting for his reply before she hung up and hurried after Logan.

And not a moment too soon. His hand was resting on the doorknob when she made it to the entry hall. Her mind and her heart were a jumbled mix of emotions. She didn’t know what she was feeling or why, just that she didn’t want him to leave, not like this.

“Logan, wait,” she called. “Don’t go yet.”

He looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes glittering with intense anger. “I think our business is done. Don’t you?”

She stopped in her tracks, searching Logan’s gaze. “Business?”

“Yeah. Business.” He turned to face her completely. “If I have to fuck you to get you to stay at LM, I will. But next time, make sure your ex-husband doesn’t interrupt us.”

At his harsh words, Claire unaccountably felt tears stinging her eyes. Unnatural emotionalism, she told herself, a known side effect of pregnancy. Still, she couldn’t reconcile this cold, harsh stranger with the man who’d been burning in her arms.

“You’re a jerk,” she said softly, the words carrying the weight of an accusation.

“No.” That single word vibrated with fury as it left Logan’s lips.

He slammed his fist against the closed door.

“I’m not the one in the wrong here. You are.

One second you’re panting for me and the next you drop everything to answer your ex-husband’s call.

Why don’t you quit LM and hide here forever? ”

“I’m not hiding.” Claire glared at him. “Not that my personal life is any of your business.”

“You made it my business.” He looked her up and down scornfully.

That did it. God, it really was amazing how she could be insanely attracted to someone one minute and utterly loathe him the next.

“Leave, Logan.”

He nodded, his usually sensual mouth a tight, grim line. “I’m out the door, but you need to think about some things. Figure out what the hell you want.”

With that parting shot, he was gone.

He shouldn’t give a damn about Claire Morton. He shouldn’t want to touch her, to kiss her, to care about her. On the way home, Logan repeated this mantra to himself over and over again, hoping that if he heard the words long enough he would actually begin to believe them.

Something was wrong with him. He’d never felt this restless before, this unsatisfied and determined to have something he knew he had no business wanting. He needed help.

He slammed his fist into his steering wheel as he pulled up to the black iron gate blocking his driveway. It slid to the side after he punched the remote opener he kept inside his car. His home loomed up ahead, mocking him.

Logan’s house wasn’t really a house. He thought as much to himself every time he drove up the winding, tree-bedecked driveway that led to his imposing, three-story ode to Classical architecture. From the outside, it looked like an overgrown mausoleum, a family crypt on steroids.

He braked as he pulled into the circular parking area at the end of the drive.

Logan killed the engine and sat for a moment, staring up at the well-lit exterior of his home.

It was gorgeous, outside and in. He’d had every last one of the twenty-one rooms inside decorated to the point of extravagance by a Philadelphia designer.

It was incredible to look at, which it damn well should be since it had cost him upward of four million when he’d bought it a few years ago.

The final jewel in his crown.

Yeah, he knew his employees called him King Monroe, and he usually enjoyed the sobriquet.

He had built an empire, so why not revel in his creation?

Why not flaunt the money he’d worked so hard to accumulate?

Looking at his world, from the outside in, no one would guess that he’d once been a dirt-poor foster kid grubbing food from alley dumpsters.