Page 83 of Snared Rider

And this I believe. I would tell him so if I could breathe enough to speak words, but my brain is melting. The only coherent thought I have is this is wrong and can’t happen because I have Alistair, because I’ve moved on from Logan.

It is the thought of Alistair that breaks through because I’m not a cheater and I’m not about to let Logan add that to the list of transgressions I’ve already racked up. It’s bad enough I’m still in love with another man while I’m with someone else.

“Stop,” I choke out.

“Stop what?” His voice is so soft, so compelling, I’m drawn to him like a magnet. There are mere inches separating us and I can see he’s all strong lines and hard angles. I swallow hard, pulling back from him.

“You know what.”

“I told you, Beth: I want you.”

“I have a boyfriend,” I remind him.

“Dump him.”

I double blink at his words.

“Why? So you can use me and ditch me as soon as you get bored?”

Anger flashes in his eyes.

“That’s not what happened.”

That’s absolutely what happened, but I don’t argue. What would be the point?

“I don’t want you, Logan, not anymore.” The lie comes easily but it hurts to see the flinch that works across his face. “I’ve moved on; you should too.”

I’m proud of the strength in my voice; I sound assured as I deliver that blow. Unfortunately, it has no impact on Logan.

“You’ve moved on? With Alistair the wanker?” He snorts. “Don’t make me fucking laugh.”

This pisses me off. Alistair may be a wanker at times (translation: most of the time), but he has never once hurt me like Logan. In fact, Alistair could never hurt me like that because Alistair is not Logan. He doesn’t have that power.

Well, shit.

That realisation hits me like a wrecking ball to the gut.

“He’s not a wanker,” I hiss, keeping my voice low. I avoid thinking about the epiphany that’s just hit me full force and concentrate on getting away from Logan.

I also concentrate on doing this as quietly as possible. Wade is still in Logan’s office and the last thing I need is an audience to my humiliation. Truthfully, it’s a miracle he hasn’t come out already; Logan isn’t exactly using his inside voice.

“Alistair’s a good man,” I snap, “and he’s good to me, which is more than you ever were.”

Logan flinches at my words as they hit a nerve. Good. Let him feel the pain I felt—the pain I still feel.

I turn to leave, but he seizes my wrist again. I round on him, furious.

“Let go of me,” I hiss.

“I get that I hurt you, really I fucking do,” he grinds out, his dark eyes hardening as he takes me in. “Believe me that was not my intention, but I told you I’m done apologising for that shit. We’ve got to find a way to deal with this because you yelling at me all the time is getting really fucking old, really fucking fast.”

I roll onto the balls of my feet and get right in his face. Then, I yell, “You're done apologising? Fuck you, Logan! You didn’t hurt me, you ruined me! And, what? I'm supposed to just forget it? Move on? Well, I can’t!”

“Beth—”

“No!” I drag free of him and shove at his chest. Surprisingly, he rocks back on a foot, all six-foot-four of him. “No! You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to swarm back in to my life after years of acting like I don’t exist and pursue me.” My voice cracks as my arms wrap around my waist, protectively. “This isn't a game, Logan; I'm not a game. You can't take me out of the toy box when you want to play and then put me away when you're bored.”

He starts towards me, his roiling emotions clearly playing across his face. I don't let him close that gap. My hands come up, warning him to give me space. He does stop, but I see his reluctance.

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