Linger by Lauren Jameson Page B

greatly tonight.” Unsure of what to do, Scarlett crossed to the chair where Logan stood. She felt like she should make some kind of grand gesture, but what, she had no idea.
    â€œMay I?” When he held out his hand for hers, she cocked her head, curious.
    When he lifted it to his lips, turned it over to place a warm kiss in the center of her palm, her knees threatened to give out on her.
    â€œThank you,” he said again, walking backward to the door. “For everything.”
    And then he was gone, leaving Scarlett feeling decidedly out of control.
•   •   •
    A fterward, Logan slumped over the bar in the main area of the club, wrapped his fingers around an icy brown bottle of beer and hoped that the chill would help to wake him up.
    Get a grip, Brody,
he chastised, tilting his head back to take a long pull of the glacial liquid.
It was just a scene. Just sex.
    But that wasn’t ringing true. Somehow, despite his best efforts, the coolly elegant brunette with the face of an angel had stomped his barriers to the ground. She’d made him feel things he hadn’t wanted to feel and had made him
like
it.
    Trying to gain control of himself, to reerect the walls that the woman—damn it, she had refused to even tell him her real name—had sent crumbling to the ground, Logan cast his gaze around the club, looking for a scene that would hold his attention, take his mind off of what had just happened.
    Instead he found his stare drawn back to the door to the room he’d exited. He watched, waited for Mistress S to exit.
    When she did and the crimson lights of the main room played over the raven tones of her hair, Logan felt his breath catch. She looked so sweet, even dressed in the bustier that offered up her creamy breasts, the skirt that showed off those long, long legs.
    How had she managed to skillfully unearth those feelings that he’d long ago buried?
    â€œGoddamn it.” Setting down his beer, Logan scrubbed his hands over his eyes. When he opened them again, Bren—that motherfucking bastard—was again kneeling in front of Mistress S. She had her hand cupped under his chin and a smile on her lips.
    He knew,
he knew
that she’d said she didn’t feel a connection with the other man. But possessiveness washed over him in a flash of blinding white.
    She was
his
Mistress. He didn’t want her touching anyone else.
    Before he could think his actions through, Logan pushed away from the bar, then crossed the room in large, purposeful strides. Mistress S turned just before he reached her, and her eyes widened for the briefest of seconds.
    And then his mouth was on hers, his hands working her hair loose from the smooth, controlled knot where she had it tamed. Her felt her startled intake of breath when his tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, demanding entry, then the soft sigh as she started to kiss him back, the need to dominate clearly warring with the pleasure of his touch.
    As he took her mouth fiercely, his movements leaving no time for protest, a roaring filled his ears, the result of his blood heating, rushing through his veins. He groaned, sank his teeth into her lower lip, and tugged gently at her hair as he fought the urge to devour her whole.
    He wanted to please her more than he’d ever wanted anything. And yet, somehow, by being just the way he was, he thought he was doing just that.
    Logan hadn’t nearly gotten his fill when Scarlett broke the kiss, gasping. He felt a hint of smugness when he saw that her pupils were dilated, her lips swollen—no matter how cool she played it, he affected her just as much as she affected him.
    Then she pulled her knee up between his legs. He had to admire her strength and balance as she held it there, pressing it into his crotch just hard enough to cause his painfully engorged balls to tighten even further.
    Fury suffused her ivory skin, but mixed with it were signs of the same