His Fantasy Girl (Things To Do Before You Die)(10)

By: Nina Croft

God, she couldn’t even remember his name, couldn’t remember her name, or why she was here, or why she shouldn’t be doing this…

He pushed two fingers inside, stroking her inner walls, but that wasn’t where she needed him. Her clit throbbed, so swollen and sensitive that if he would touch her there she knew she would—

He swiped the pad of his thumb lightly over her and she let out a little squeak. Withdrawing his fingers from inside her, he circled the swollen nub until she almost screamed with need, teasing her, while he sucked and kissed her neck. Her hips were rotating in little circles, right up until the point he flicked a finger over her, and she went instantly still.

“You like?” he murmured.

She shook her head, unable to answer, but this went way beyond liking. He chuckled against her skin as though he understood what she was thinking, then his fingers moved, pushing inside her again while he massaged the little nub with the heel of his hand. She clamped her eyes shut tight, as the pleasure coiled up tighter and tighter inside her until she thought she couldn’t take any more. He pressed harder and finally she snapped, shattered, breaking her into a million pieces, lights flashing behind her closed eyes.

She was hardly aware as he pulled his hand free, stepped back from her, gripped the hem of her skirt and tugged it up over her hips. A hand in the small of her back pressed her down across the back of the sofa, as a thigh pushed between hers, spreading her legs. Fingers gripped in the top of her panties and she knew any second he’d rip them from her and she’d be exposed, ready, desperate…

He went still. “Fuck.”


A knock sounded on the door, directly in front of her. The handle turned as Logan grabbed her shoulders, stood her up, and pushed down her skirt. She reached out resting her hands on the back of the sofa, took a deep breath.

“Looks like the governor’s back, sweetheart.” Logan’s tone held a wry amusement. “Why the fuck didn’t I lock that door?”

Her legs were shaking and little tremors of residual pleasure raced through her body.

A man appeared in the open doorway. Déjà vu. Tall and handsome, he was an older version of Logan, minus the tattoos: Rory McCabe, Logan’s father, and the same man who had caught them last time.

Could this get any worse?

“Am I interrupting something?” Rory asked.

“Yes,” Logan snapped.

“No,” she said at the same time. No way could she go through with this now. She’d have to go away, build up her defenses, arrange to see Logan in a public place, and then she’d tell him about Jennifer. But right now she was so out of here.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “but I’m late for work. I have to go, I…” She clamped her lips closed. There was nothing else to say. She shuffled around the sofa, giving Logan a wide berth, grabbed her handbag from where he’d dropped it, and headed to the door—fast. Rory McCabe stepped aside for her. Nearly out, but as she went through the door, she couldn’t resist one quick peek back. Logan was watching her, hands shoved in his pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face.

She really didn’t want to know what he was thinking. Instead she made a dash for freedom.

Chapter Three

Logan stayed behind the sofa, where the fact that he was about to burst out of his jeans would perhaps go unnoticed. She’d come looking for him. He’d really thought she’d never turn up here. A grin tugged at his lips.

Rory closed the door and turned to face him, brows drawing together. “You look pleased with yourself.”

Logan probably looked like a grinning idiot. So, maybe she wasn’t the wild woman he remembered, but she’d felt good in his arms, hot and wet and so sweet.

“Who was that?” Rory asked. “She looked vaguely familiar.”

That was interesting. Somehow he doubted Rory would remember her from eleven years ago, which meant he had seen her someplace since. Had she come looking for him before this, and maybe chickened out or simply not found him? “An echo from the past.”

“And what did your echo want?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair. He’d presumed she’d had a rethink after he’d left yesterday. Decided she wanted to see him again. Now in hindsight, he wasn’t so certain. She’d said she needed to talk to him, but he hadn’t exactly given her a chance. Just jumped on her. But Christ, how many long nights had she kept him company, how many times had he jerked himself off to her image in his head. He knew it was partly because she’d been the last woman he’d slept with before his life had turned to complete and utter shit, but it was also more than that. They’d shared something pretty special and he’d meant to track her down and do it all over again. How, he didn’t know, as she’d only told him her first name, but he would have found her somehow. Except he’d never gotten the chance. “I don’t know what she wants.”

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