Page 49 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

‘It’s not about money, Logan.’

His frown deepened. ‘Then what is it about?’

She got off the bed, wrapped her arms around her waist as she stared out into the night. The Northern Lights still flickered on the horizon, the magical play of colours over the forest so beautiful it hurt.

But the life he lived here wasn’t a real life. Not for her. She would tumble the rest of the way in love with him, sink so deep she could never get out again. He would bind her to him, with sex and affection—something she had yearned for without even realising it—and she would want to save him. Just as her mother had once wanted to save her father, from the demons that had turned him into a cruel and bitter man.

Logan wasn’t cruel or bitter. He was a good man, even a tender man in his own way. Forceful and possessive in another. But he was a damaged man.

A damaged man who had no desire to face his demons either. She wasn’t even sure he understood that he had demons too. How much good would she really be doing him by helping him avoid them?

She heard him come off the bed behind her. He stroked her hair, then banded his arms around her waist and pressed his face into the back of her neck.

She leaned back against him, because she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

It felt so good to be in his arms, so right. But how could it be, when he was still hiding from the world, and he wanted her to hide too?

‘Don’t complicate this, Cara, when it can be simple,’ he said. ‘You said you loved me, why is this not what you want?’

She spun round, her heart cracking open in her chest at the forthright expression on his face. ‘Logan, you have refused to talk to me for two days... And you still can’t bear to be around people. Can’t you see why that’s a problem?’

‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘Because all that matters is that I can bear to be around you.’

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, agitated now, and heartsore. And desperately frustrated with the intractable expression on his face. He wasn’t listening to her, because he chose not to.

‘But can’t you see, if I went back with you, if I lived with you, I’d want to talk about everything,’ she said, trying one last time to make him understand. ‘Because I’d want to know you,reallyknow you.’ She cupped his cheek, felt the muscle bunch under her palm as he stared back at her. ‘Not just who you are now, but also that little boy, who you’re still punishing.’ He flinched, but she forced herself to continue. ‘And I’d want you to know me. All my flaws and weaknesses. As well as my strengths. Because love is curious and demanding, emotionally as well as physically. Can’t you see that?’

He placed his hand over hers, pulled it away from his face then said softly, ‘Why does it need to be, when what we have is already so good?’

Good for you, she thought, and the ripple of bitterness was surprising, but there, nonetheless. Couldn’t he give her anything? Not even an indication that with time things might change?

‘You’re asking me to give up too much, Logan. I’d lose myself, and my independence. One day, I might want to have children, a family of my own...’ It wasn’t something she was thinking of right this minute, but when she felt him stiffen, she suddenly understood. He wasn’t going to budge about any of it.

‘Mightis not important,’ he said, grasping her elbow, pulling her against his body. ‘Nothing in life is guaranteed. We have only the now. What we feel, what we want. And I want you and you want me. That is enough.’

It was hopeless. Logan was a fatalist, a man bound to his past. Who couldn’t break those chains. Wasn’t even prepared to attempt to break them.

‘I can’t live like that, Logan, I won’t.’

‘Really?’ he asked. ‘You would deny us both this?’ he said, then covered her mouth with his, kissing her with the furious hunger she recognised. And responded to always.

Her body quickened as he grasped her bottom, thrust the thick erection in his shorts against the melting spot between her thighs, rubbing her clitoris with expert intensity through the thin layers of cotton. His fingers sank beneath the waistband of her shorts, finding the slick nub and working it with ruthless efficiency.

She gasped, sobbed, the brutal climax already too close.

‘You are wet for me, always, Cara,’ he said, his lips devouring her throat as she rode his fingers, unable to deny his mastery over her body. Or the tearing pain in her heart.

Somehow she managed to scramble back, to push him away. ‘Don’t, Logan.’

He stopped instantly, his face flushed, his eyes dark, the muscle in his jaw clenching.

‘It won’t work, not again,’ she said, even as her body yearned for him. ‘Sex isn’t the answer—not this time. I need more than that. If you can’t give it to me, that’s okay. I understand. But I can’t stay with you on your terms.’

He grunted as pain slashed across his face. He turned away from her, to stare out at the night sky, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his breath heaving. Everything inside her gathered. The stupid, foolish hope building again. Maybe, just maybe, she had broken through to him, to the man she suspected lay beneath that wall... The man she’d had tantalising glimpses of over the past two weeks. The man who enjoyed her company, who wanted to please her, and protect her, who she knew would be lonely without her... The man who had denied himself so much because he blamed himself for his parents’ deaths.

But as the seconds ticked past, she saw the veil come down again. His breathing evened out, and his arms relaxed, to fall back by his side. And when he finally turned back towards her, the need, the desperation, the confusion were gone, until all that was left was the same implacable mask—tinged with impatience and frustration—she remembered from when she had first met him. He had retreated back into the shell where she couldn’t reach him.

He nodded. ‘I will sleep downstairs. We can talk again in the morning.’

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