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CHAPTER 18

SLOANE

I woke up, orgasming. Logan was braced on his forearms in between my legs, licking and sucking my clit.

“Ohhh,” I whimpered, pleasure surging through me as I writhed against his tongue.

I was gasping for breath as I came down, and he looked up at me with hooded eyes, his lips shiny with my arousal as he smirked at me.

“Good morning,” he groaned. “Hope this is okay…I had to taste you. I’ve been thinking about eating this sweet pussy all night.” He licked slowly up my slit, circling my clit as two of his fingers pushed inside me.

It felt…so good. How had he done that? And while I was asleep?

I stared at him in amazement…and a little awe…as his fingers lazily slid in and out. Like he was just playing with me.

“Round two.” He hummed, withdrawing his fingers and pushing my thighs farther apart as he suddenly sucked on my clit.

“I can’t wait to get inside this gorgeous pussy,” he growled, holding me still as I squirmed against his mouth. His tongue pushed inside my core, and I whimpered as he hit that perfect spot I’d heard about but never experienced for myself.

This was some kind of witchcraft. Last night had been hot, but I hadn’t really believed he could do it.

But he definitely was.

Logan shoved one of my legs over his shoulder, moaning into my slit as his mouth moved back to my clit, and he slid three huge fingers inside me.

I thrashed underneath him, and he groaned. “Fuck. You taste so fucking good.” His tongue licked through my folds, circling my clit, while his fingers continued to move. I tried to rock against his mouth, but he held me tightly so I couldn’t move.

My insides were clenching…just a little more. I locked eyes with him and that was it, another orgasm tore through me, and my cries filled the room. His expression was so possessive…so hot as he continued to lick and suck. Goosebumps broke out on my arms. My pulse quickened, my breath caught, and I closed my eyes, my head falling back into the pillow as wave after wave of pleasure surged through my insides.

This was so much better than any orgasm I’d ever given myself.

Ugh. Why did he have to be so perfect?

Logan lowered my leg and crawled up my body, pressing a deep, rough kiss against my lips that had me tasting myself. I loved that. I wanted him to carry me with him everywhere, a sign to everyone that he belonged to me.

The idea of that made me want to cry, because it was far-fetched…so out of reach.

I could feel his hard length between us, and my mouth watered just thinking of how amazing it was going to feel if he was this adept of a student with his tongue.

“That’s so good,” he whispered against my lips, his hands rubbing up my sides. “So good, sweet girl…you’re incredible.”

I soaked in his praise, liking it for the first time. Wanting to please him—not because it was my job, but because it was him.

My lips quivered against his, and he paused. “I know, baby. I know. Me too,” he murmured. “Me too.”

I wrapped my arms and legs around him, holding him as close as I could. Later, I’d use this memory when I was alone and he was gone, when it was business as usual. I’d use it to remember I had one bright, sparkling moment in my useless life.

“I have something for you,” he said, rolling off me to grab something out of his closet.

“You got me something?” I asked, a strange, light feeling spreading through my veins.

He reappeared, holding up a box, a warm gleam in his eyes. Biting down on my lip, I studied it for a second. I’d gotten gifts before from my clients, but this felt different.

A present from him felt like more .

“Open it.” He grinned as I finally took it. “And don’t be so scared. You’re going to have to get used to this. Presents all the time. It’s a boyfriend thing.”

I steadfastly ignored the fact that he’d just called himself my boyfriend, and I cracked the box open, my breath catching when I saw what was inside. Nestled on black velvet was a necklace—thin, delicate, with a teardrop-shaped diamond at the center that caught the light like it was made of magic. It wasn’t just gorgeous—it was overwhelming.

“Logan…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp, watching my reaction like a hawk.

“Like it?” I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “This is…I mean, it’s stunning, but?—”

“No ‘buts,’” he interrupted, sitting up and taking the box from my hands. He pulled the necklace out and let it dangle from his fingers, the diamond swinging slightly. “I want you to wear it.”

My chest tightened. “Logan, it’s too much.”

“It’s not,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. He leaned closer, brushing my hair to the side as he reached around to clasp the necklace around my neck. His fingers skimmed across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“There,” he said, pulling back to look at me. “Now, you’ll wear it all the time, and you’ll know I’m always thinking about you.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing against the diamond that now rested against my skin. “That’s…really sweet,” I admitted, my cheeks heating.

“Do you really like it? Because if you don’t, I can get something else,” he said, leaning in, his lips brushing mine in a way that was soft but insistent.

“I love it,” I murmured as he pulled back, leaving me breathless and more flustered than I cared to admit.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, Logan swung his legs off the bed and stood up, stretching like a cat and showcasing a set of abs that I wanted to lick. I took in the sight of him shirtless, wondering if he would notice if I grabbed my phone and took a picture.

“Now, I’m making you breakfast,” he announced, walking toward the door.

I blinked, still clutching the necklace like I couldn’t quite believe it was real. “You cook?” I called after him, the disbelief evident in my voice.

He turned, flashing me a devilish grin. “Mrs. Bentley cooks. But I’m very good at heating things up.”

“Who’s Mrs. Bentley?” I called after him, but he didn’t answer me. He disappeared from the room, leaving me alone with a necklace that was far too beautiful and a heart that was beating far too fast.

* * *

Logan had tried to convince me to stay at his apartment while he was at practice, but I’d refused. That felt too close to a “girlfriend” thing.

So now I was trying to find distractions back at my place, which suddenly felt cold and empty…and lonely. I ended up in my studio, which I never visited while I was in the middle of a job. But I was here, and I was feeling…strangely inspired. This piece was different from my others, more hopeful. Even when I was painting landscapes of places I’d traveled to, I tended to drown the paintings in dark colors, sunny days becoming stormy nights.

But not today.

Today I was painting a field of ranunculus flowers I’d seen at Carlsbad Ranch when I was visiting San Diego last year. And today , the sky was staying sunny.

The elevator out in the entry dinged, and I stiffened, all the sparkles Logan had given me, disappearing like they’d never existed at all. The only one who had the code to get up here…was Everett.

Fuck.

I set my paints down and wiped off my hands, knowing that I wouldn’t be in the mood to paint anymore after finishing with him. Walking out of the room, I took a deep breath as I caught sight of him, sitting on my couch like he owned the place.

Which I guess…he did.

In his tailored suit and crisp white shirt, he looked every inch the powerful man he was. His eyes swept over me, calculating as ever, and a familiar chill crept up my spine.

“Everett,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

“What a way to greet your uncle. Want to try again?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he continued to eye me.

I smoothed my hands down my top, wishing that I was dressed appropriately for one of his visits.

“Uncle, what a pleasant surprise,” I said obediently, pasting a practiced smile on my face.

He stared at me unnervingly for a second. “Better.” Everett glanced at this watch. “It’s been a few days, Sloane,” he said. I bit down on my lip. Everett liked to keep a close eye on his…girls. “Why haven’t I heard from you?”

“Just busy with…Mr. York.” For some reason it tasted wrong on my tongue to talk about Logan with Everett.

“I’ve been worried about you, Sloane. Something’s different. Anything you want to tell me?” He was using his voice that usually succeeded in getting information out of me. But today it wasn’t making me want to give him…anything.

My skin felt clammy, and I clasped my hands in front of me, trying to steady myself. “Nothing new.”

He continued to study my face, and I was terrified he could see all the chaos of my thoughts.

Everett stood up, glancing around like he was assessing how I’d been taking care of the place he’d provided for me. When he finally turned back, his expression was unreadable. “You’ve got another job.”

I fell back a step and then quickly recovered, cursing myself for having a reaction. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, forcing my features to relax. “Another job?” I echoed, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.

“Yes.” He straightened his cuffs, his movements deliberate. “Tonight. Eight o’clock sharp.”

My stomach churned. Logan . His voice was in my head again, low and certain. If another man touches you, I’ll kill him .

“I—I thought that I was booked with Logan for the whole week.”

There was a long pause, and I knew I’d just shown my cards. Fuck.

“It almost sounds as if this other job is a problem for you,” Everett said coldly.

“No. That’s not what I?—”

“Do I need to remind you that everything you have is because of me?”

I held up my hands. “Everett?—”

“Do I need to remind you that without the opportunities I’ve given you, you’d be out there struggling, working yourself to the bone just to have food on the table? Do you want to go back to how you grew up, Sloane? Is that what your tone means?”

I bowed my head. “No, Uncle.”

His footsteps were slow and methodical as he approached me, and then he was tipping up my chin until I was meeting those brown eyes of his, the ones that always reminded me of my mother.

And how much she would hate what I’d become.

“Remember, you chose this…and remember, this is all you’re good for.”

With those words he released my chin and walked to the elevators. I didn’t bother to watch him leave.

All you’re good for .

It was the reminder I needed to dig out the tendril of light that Logan had infected me with.

Maybe a better woman would have cried. Maybe she would have screamed. Instead, I sat on the couch, staring at nothing, as the reality of my life closed in around me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slowly pulled it out, not surprised to see the instructions on the screen.

Everett: JS. 8 PM. Plaza Hotel.

For a second—just a second—my mind drifted to Logan. To that one perfect moment this morning.

And then I stood up and went to my bedroom to get ready.

Walking into the closet, I grabbed one of the dresses—black, fitted, something that showed off my body in all the ways it was supposed to. My hands moved on autopilot, slipping the fabric over my skin, zipping it up without thinking. I sat down at the vanity, brushing out my hair, applying my makeup, covering my heartache with just the right amount of concealer.

My phone buzzed again. This time, with a call from Logan.

The brush trembled in my hand as I stared at his name on the screen, the weak part of me wanting to pick it up, to hear his voice…just one more time.

I silenced the call, ignoring the tear falling down my cheek. He wouldn’t want anything to do with me after this.

But it was better this way—to ghost him. It would be torture now to hear his voice and see his face.

I already missed him.

Setting down the makeup brush, I stared at my reflection. My heart felt heavy, but I shut the feeling down, putting the image of him in a vault I wasn't going to think about again.

Standing up, I smoothed out my dress, and grabbed my purse. The Plaza Hotel. Eight o’clock.

I wasn’t allowed to be late.