Chapter 160: Behave
"Yep. Restraints."
That’s all the warning I get before I’m airborne. The mattress catches me with a soft bounce, and a high-pitched sound escapes my throat—something between a yelp and a gasp.
I scramble to get my bearings, heart racing in my chest. "Um, Logan, I don’t think restraints are really necessary right no—w?!"
The cold snap of leather around my left wrist cuts my protest short. My eyes widen as I register what’s happening. The restraint is already secured to the bedpost—butter-soft leather with satin lining and what looks like silver threading along the seams.
Holy shit. These aren’t cheap novelty cuffs. These are the real deal—magical and custom-made, with craftsmanship screaming expensive.
When the hell did he even get these? Our conversation wasn’t that long ago!
Before I can wrap my mind around it, he’s moving to my right side. Another snap, and my other wrist is caught.
"Logan! Take these off!" I try to sound indignant, but there’s an embarrassing breathless quality to my voice, betraying my arousal easily.
"Nope," he says, with such casual confidence it sends all kinds of shivers down my spine.
He climbs onto the bed, his knees on either side of my hips, his arms bracketing my face. His eyes move slowly over me—studying my lips, my hair, lingering on my eyes, then dropping to my neck. I tilt my chin up, offering my mouth to him.
Instead of taking it, he groans softly and sits back on his heels, dragging his hands down his face.
What. The. Actual. Hell.
I’m immediately offended, for real this time. My wrists yank at the restraints as I flail beneath him. "Are you seriously not following through right now?"
Logan runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in frustration spikes. "It feels like I’m cheating on you," he mutters.
I stare at him, dumbfounded. I blink once, twice. Then my gaze deliberately drops to the very obvious bulge straining against his pants.
"Well, your body’s on board."
A beat of silence fills the room.
Logan exhales harshly. "That’s not fair."
"Neither is throwing me on a bed, cuffing me up, and not doing anything about it." I jerk at the restraints to emphasize my point.
"You’re not even you right now," he says under his breath, looking away.
"I am me. You know I’m me." My heart pounds harder, but not from arousal anymore. This is about something else again—something cutting deeper than lust.
His eyes meet mine, conflicted. "I know you are. But I don’t see you. Not the you I..." He trails off, and I can see him struggling with words he’s not ready to say.
"Come on, Logan. You aren’t going to be like this the entire time, are you?" I shift against the restraints. "What if I needed plastic surgery after an accident?"
"That’s not the same." His jaw tightens.
"Why? Because I’m skinnier? More athletic?" I challenge him, heat rising in my cheeks. "Come on. I could get really into lifting weights. Are you not going to fuck me if I lose weight in fear of hurting my feelings?"
Logan grumbles something about being romantic and loyal, and I can’t help the groan that escapes me.
"Hurry up and put your dick in me before I find another one to—"
He growls.
A big growl. Not a sexy, I’m-gonna-fuck-you one, but an if you don’t shut up I’ll make you kind of growl.
So I snap my mouth shut.
Okay, maybe threatening to find some other man’s dick was not
the smartest way to handle this conversation..."You aren’t fucking anyone else, Nicole. Not in this body. Not in any body."
Oh, boy.
What does that even mean? Does he want this body or not? Or is it just a random possessive claim?
And am I supposed to be turned on or offended?
Because I’m kind of both. And really fucking horny.
I opt for turned on.
I stretch a little beneath him, letting the motion arch my back slightly. "You liked my mouth before," I murmur.
His gaze drops to my lips again. For a second, he sways toward me—just enough I think I’ve won.
Then he jerks back like I slapped him. "Don’t."
What the fucking fuck.
His hands clamp around my hips again and he leans down so our foreheads touch. "You keep talking like this is a joke. Like this body means nothing. But it’s not nothing to me."
I open my mouth to respond, but he tightens his grip. "No. Not yet."
The growl that follows isn’t a threat this time, and I go all kinds of damp between my thighs as his breath brushes against my mouth.
But he still doesn’t kiss me.
Still.
"Logan—"
"Shut up, Nicole."
So I do. For about half a second, before I say again, "Logan—"
"Nicole."
The way he says my name this time...
It’s not teasing. Not commanding. It’s raw—frustrated and thick with something scraping at the edge of sheer desperation.
I still.
We’re forehead to forehead, his fingers curled tight on my hips, like letting go would mean falling apart. Pheromones are thick and heavy in the air, with lust so sharp it’s practically carved into the air between us.
He wants me.
But he’s still not kissing me.
And something in me—something stubborn and feminine and very, very done with this—decides enough is enough.
"This isn’t nothing to me, either," I whisper, feeling him flinch. "You think I don’t know? Don’t feel it? I’m walking around in a body that isn’t mine, Logan. You think I don’t feel fake? Gorgeous and wrong at the same time?"
His jaw tightens. His grip shifts, just slightly, like he’s trying not to pull me closer.
"But this body doesn’t change who I am, Logan. You know me."
He tenses.
"So if you don’t want me anymore," I continue, softer now, almost daring, "say it. Don’t act like my body’s the problem."
His eyes flick open. Bright green and burning.
And then something breaks.
He crashes into me—mouth slanting over mine, bruising and hungry and raw, his lips devouring me like they’ve been starved for a taste.
I gasp against him. He swallows it whole.
My wrists pull against the restraints, but he doesn’t release me. Doesn’t even hesitate.
"Goddamn it," he mutters, breath hot against my mouth, then kisses me again, harder. Deeper. Tongue sliding against mine with the kind of fury that says fuck logic.
And of course his phone starts ringing.
Incessantly.
"Don’t answer it," I hiss as he jerks his head up.
He bites at my lower lip before sliding off the bed, leaving me still cuffed to the bed. "Behave, Nikki. We’re not done yet."