Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (23 page)

Her eyes grew languid, but her brows pinched together. "I've nearly got them all out already."

"You'll never get them all out," he repeated as he tapped against her nub, making her pant out her approval.

Stubborn as always, she plunged on. "I can rent a buffer and it'll look as good as new."

"It makes no difference, because you'll still never get them
all
out," he reiterated while smiling down at her.

She opened her mouth to protest further as if he had challenged her, but he pressed the same fingers from under her skirt to her lips to silence her. He kneeled before her and tugged her by a wrist until she was kneeling with him next to the piano. Confusion shined in her eyes as he positioned himself on his back and slid half of his body underneath the piano.

He motioned for her. "Come look."

Assuming the same position as Logan, Chloe slid next to him.

Logan stared up at the underside of the piano and traced the outline of the etchings he had made twenty years earlier. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Chloe's head turn to see what he was pointing at.

"I call it my blueprints for destruction," he whispered as a slow smile crept onto his face.

Each image that depicted a way in which the piano would be eradicated had been scratched into the wood painstakingly with the pocketknife his father had given him before his death. It was more than a little ironic seeing as his dad's death and everything that came out about him afterwards were the very reasons Logan's mother had bought the piano and forced him to take the lessons.
Therapy,
she had called it. He thought it was a joke at the time, but it had turned out to be quite useful. Go figure.

"This one is my favorite," he said as he outlined the wrecking ball hovering over the piano. "It's to scale, by the way," he proudly pointed out. "I even calculated the pounds per square inch it would take to completely demolish this damned thing. And this," he explained as he outlined another carved section of wood, "this one I made after seeing the classic movie
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
I weighted it down and sunk it."

He glanced in Chloe's direction to see her closely inspecting the etching of his piano being dropped from a skyscraper.

"Logan Evans, does your mother know you did this?"

He turned his head to face her and couldn't resist laughing at her shocked look and motherly tone. "God, no. My mom would've taken a switch to my ass if she'd found it."

Chloe's eyes widened. "Did she do that often?"

More laughter burst out of him. "No. In fact, I don't think she ever actually went through with her threats of doing it. Not that I can remember, anyway, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that. The mention of it happening was more than enough to make me comply to just about anything she demanded—including going to Confession."

Her face beamed with a grin. "Did you confess to your little transgression in this church?"

"Hell no."

Her eyes narrowed and the same look of disbelief he had seen on her face the first day he met her and admitted to said transgression, returned. "Did you really lose your virginity here?"

"Yes."

She turned onto her side and propped herself up onto an elbow. "Was the girl pretty?"

"I thought so."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

"Did you date a lot in high school?"

Logan could feel himself smiling at how ludicrous Chloe's questions were. It was as if opening up to her had let loose the floodgates and she was taking full advantage of it. So be it. The questions were benign enough.

"No, not a lot. I lived in a small town, so there wasn't a lot to choose from."

"Do you keep in contact with that girl?"

Another round of amusement rumbled from his throat. "No."

She opened her mouth to ask God-only-knows what else when he cut her off. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you date a lot in high school?"

She shook her head. "I didn't date at all."

He turned on his side and propped himself up onto an elbow, as well. "Come on. Not at all?" he asked incredulously.

"No. I told you: I was a late …"

"I know, a late bloomer," he finished her sentence.

"It's true. I was overweight, had braces and my hair always looked like a rat's nest."

"I find that hard to believe. Maybe your mom can bring some photos of you to prove that?"

"Oh, hell no!" Her voice boomed.

"So, when did the
transformation
happen?"

"The summer before college my mom bought an elliptical. She said it was for her, but I think it was really for me, though she would never admit it. I had gotten my braces off a few months before, let my hair grow out and started getting on that thing every free minute I had. It worked and the weight came off by the end of the summer. When I got to San Francisco, it was like this strange thing happened: boys suddenly noticed me. It freaked me out. And pissed me off, too, which I wasn't expecting. But I felt like, I'm the same person I've always been, so why do they want to hang out with me now?" She huffed and rolled her eyes. "It didn't take a genius to figure out they only wanted sex. But I wasn't having it. It was all just too much, too fast. I didn't do
the deed
until my sophomore year."

Her eyes drifted as she recalled the memory. "What a sad joke. I don't know what I was expecting for my first time, but it sure as heck wasn't
that.
The handful of times I had sex after that weren't even worth the effort. It was like microwave sex: set the timer for thirty seconds and
ping,
it was done."

Logan bust out into full-blown laughter at Chloe's candidness and comparison.

When his amusement died down, her face was bright red. "I feel weird talking about this with you."

"Why? I love it. Keep going."

She shook her head. "No, it’s your turn. What was college sex like for you?"

"It was fine."

She arched her brows at him. "Fine?"

"You know, there was lots of it but nothing to scream from the rooftops about. It was fine."

She perked up. "Lots?"

"I was never hurting for company, that's for sure. I was a brainy-type, kept to myself for the most part; never went to many parties. I got lucky because it turns out girls like big brains."

She waggled her eyebrows at him. "I love a big brain."

He grinned. "Not to mention a big dick, right?"

"Well, fortunately for you, you've been blessed with good genes and got both."

He didn't want to think about
genes
. He preferred to think he got his intelligence from his mother. As for the other part, he was fine to never know where that part of himself came from.

He glided a hand up her semi-exposed thigh. "You look so fucking tasty in this uniform,
Minou
."

She plucked a few buttons of her blouse open to reveal her cleavage and opened her legs. "Well, then, feast away."

The ravenous look in Chloe's eyes spoke directly to his cock and woke it from its brief nap.

She most definitely needed to
slow it down
when it came to work, but as for everything else about them, it was full steam ahead.

L
ogan had just buried his face between Chloe's legs when she had the sudden urge to be transported somewhere else. Not that having Logan’s mouth on her wasn’t spectacular or staring at his childhood handy-work from underneath his piano wasn’t special, but she needed more.

"Take me somewhere," she mewled as his tongue dipped into her.

"What?" he mumbled against her flesh.

"Take me somewhere, Logan—somewhere like you did before. Show me something beautiful that you've built," she whispered as she tugged his hair to draw his head back so that she could gaze down at him.

"
Right now
?" Frustration laced his words and flashed in his aroused eyes.

"Please?"

His eyes darted between each of hers, then to her mouth and back, and his crooked smile made its appearance. "Okay," he sighed. "But we
are
going to finish this later."

She nodded in agreement. "Absolutely."

He stood, bent down to take hold of her ankles and pulled her out from underneath the piano to help her stand.

"I need to put myself together," she said as she jogged up the stairs to his master bath.

A look in the mirror revealed her hair to be disheveled, her make-up smudged, and her uniform askew. All-in-all, she didn't look half bad. She smiled at herself. Sexed-up was a good look for her.

The unmistakable sound of the piano cover being pushed back and the tinkling of notes caught her attention. Soft, rapid, flawlessly-played notes drifted up the stairs making it impossible for her to resist going to the landing to stare down at Logan. The light from a nearby lamp shimmering off his gold highlights, his toned body leaning over the keys, his eyes closed—he was a vision of pure masculine refinement. It was the most uplifting song he had played yet, and the best part was that she hadn't even asked him to play it.

He glanced up at her and gave her a frustrated smile. “I hate how his music has stayed with me—every note, every measure and chord progression. Damn this photographic memory. Why can't I forget all of this?" he asked as he continued to play.

She descended the stairs to stand behind him. "I'm glad you can't forget," she whispered. She dragged her fingertips across his scalp and tilted his head to the side so that she could press her lips to his neck. "Just like your creativity, the world would be a duller place without your music, Logan," she breathed against his skin. "
My
world would be a duller place without it."

He tipped his head back to meet her gaze and grace her with his half-smile before closing his eyes again.

"Tell me the name."

"
Improvisation on Invention No. 4
," he murmured. "And don't worry—it's a short song," he laughed softly.

The last of the notes floated through the air, prickling Chloe's nerve endings. This time, she wished it had been longer.

He spun around on the bench and reached his hands up to frame her face. His lips parted as if to speak as his eyes roamed over her face, but he said nothing.

****

The drive to where-ever-it-was Chloe was being taken was filled with music of Logan's choice, and longing glances. A song titled
La Belle Femme
began and her eyes zoomed in on him as he mouthed the lyrics to her. The late-day sunlight shimmered through the windshield, highlighting his features and the sky was as diamond clear as his eyes. His perfectly-shaped mouth had been on her only minutes before, his intense gaze focused solely on her, his tongue reaching places only he had ever been able to, and his possessive hands endlessly roaming over her body. With the windows cracked open, the spring breeze ruffled the leaves outside along with Logan's hair. Every time his eyes flicked up and down her body, her insides blazed with desire. The ornery look on his face told her that his mind was racing with different ways he wanted to
destroy
her. If only she had kept her mouth shut, that's exactly what would be happening.

She placed a hand on his thigh. "I still can't believe you did that to your piano."

He laughed. "I thought it was mild considering what I really wanted to do to it. I'm sure you did plenty to get into trouble when you were a kid."

"Not really. Why would you think that?"

He gave her a disbelieving side-glance. "Gee, I don't know—maybe because of your stubborn, take-no-bullshit-attitude?"

Stunned, she stared at him for nearly half a minute before asking, "Is that how I come off?"

"Don't act so shocked."

"It's not an act; I am shocked."

He casually lifted his shoulders. "I don't know why you are. Haven't you figured out what kind of person you are and where your place is in the world?"

"Not really," she whispered as she fingered the hem of her ruffled skirt.

When she glanced at Logan, his eyes darted to hers. "I forget how young you are."

She quickly defended herself. "I'm almost twenty-three."

"Christ, Chloe, when I was twenty-two I didn't have a clue where I fit into things. I didn't know what I wanted in life except to say I wanted to be an architect. Hell, I didn't even know what I wanted in a woman or how to please one. Figuring out who you are and where your place is comes with age and experience. You probably think I'm being a condescending jerk by saying all of this, and I'm sure you're sick of hearing it—but it's true."

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "If it makes you feel any better, you're more mature than I was at your age. You're gracefully humble at all times, headstrong when the situation calls for it, conciliatory when you need to be, and with rare moments of submissiveness when its least expected. It's a powerful combination.
And you're only fucking twenty-two
. If you haven't figured out how much power you hold yet, I can't imagine what kind of force you'll be once you do." He placed his hand over hers as his brows pinched together. "I'm only one in a long procession of men to come for you,
Minou
. It's only a matter of time before you have men falling over themselves to be with you, or to get a little bit of your attention."

Logan's words hit all the right notes. It seemed he always knew the right words to say. They made her feel beautiful and invincible, while at the same time, wistful and sad, and she didn't quite know why. Maybe it was the look on his face that was saying the thought of her being with other men upset him. She didn't want anyone else's attention except his, but to tell him that would surely drive a wedge between them.

With her hand now resting on top of his, she tried to say, without saying, what she wanted—him and
only
him.

"I don't want to be with a long procession of men, Logan. That's not who I am, and that won't ever change—not even with age and experience."

She stared at him, waiting for some kind of verbal response, but got nothing from him except a quick glance that reflected concern, a clenched jaw and a light shake of his head.

Okay, so maybe Logan was right—she was a no-bullshit-kind-of-girl and headstrong. Now that those character traits had been pointed out, she intended to fully embrace them because there was no way this man was going to push her away so easily. Not yet anyway. She had already been pushed away by one man because of his fear of commitment, and this time around, it would take more than a few
issues
to scare her off.

The title of the song he had played on his piano before they left took on a whole new meaning. Everything in life was an
improvisation
—love, art, work and relationships. And so was this thing with Logan. She would just have to learn to improvise with him until things progressed.

*

Chloe squeezed Logan's hand in what he interpreted to be a silent acknowledgement of his struggle before turning to stare out the window. But what did she know about what he was struggling with? He wanted to say so much more, but forced the words down.

Instead, he plucked a new song from his playlist to speak for him:
Rush of Blood
. He could see through his peripheral vision when Chloe turned her head to watch him once the song began, but he kept his gaze steadily pointed forward so as not to give anything away. Hell, he had already given away too much as it was, not to mention
said
too much.
And so had she.

They had only known each other intimately for a few weeks. That wasn't enough time to determine whether or not she wanted to be with other men. A woman like Chloe
should
experience different men—even if the thought of
his
Minou
being with a long procession of men made him ill and want to throat-punch any would-be-suitors. Hell, he'd be happy if he could claim the title of being the only man to guide her down the path of sexual awareness, no matter how selfish a desire it was. He wanted to be
The One
for her
—
any man in their right mind would, but it wasn't the first time he had felt that way about a woman. Could she say the same? Could Chloe say, without a doubt, that if they were to pursue a relationship, he would be the only man she ever wanted? He doubted it.

Monogamy, for all its appeal and romantic idealism, was exactly that—an
idea.
His father had proved that, and Jess had only driven that point home.

Logan had spent countless nights wondering where he had gone wrong with Jess and what he’d done to make her cheat. Countless
years
spent wondering what had happened to make his father do the things he had. Had Jess not experienced enough of life that she felt as if she was missing out? Had he not given enough of himself to her emotionally and physically? All questions that would never be answered; all questions he never wanted to revisit.

"When I was thirteen," she began, interrupting his thoughts as she continued to gaze out the window, "my parents made me go to the junior high dance. I begged them not to make me. You know how kids that age are—they're so cruel. Anyway, they forced me to go, and so my revenge was to sew all of my brothers’ t-shirt sleeves closed."

Logan turned to stare at Chloe, grateful that she had broken his train of thought. When she finally met his gaze, a mischievous smile worked its way onto her mouth.

"I got grounded for a month for that little stunt."

"I knew it," he whispered, making her smile deepen.

"Want to hear one better?" her eyes widened.

He gave her an enthusiastic nod while she gave him a look of hesitation as if contemplating whether or not to share before finally giving in.

"When I was seven, I sat on a cactus to get my mom's attention."

"What the fuck?" He jerked his head to glare at her, not sure if she was being serious or not. When he heard her giggle and saw her cheeks flush, he knew she was being truthful.

"My mom had just had Tyson, my youngest brother. It seemed like she was always busy with my brothers and never had time for me. She was vacuuming and totally ignoring me one day, so I came up with a plan to get her attention."

Logan threw his head back and let out a burst of laughter.

"I clearly remember what I was thinking and my logic at the time," she began to laugh along with him. "But, everything after I sat down on that cactus is where I draw a blank. I think I must have literally blacked out. What I remember next is my parents plucking quills out of my ass for hours."

Logan was left speechless. Chloe was far more stubborn and headstrong than he had imagined, and he couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.

The remaining forty-five minute drive, Logan listened to Chloe ramble on about pattern choices, color schemes, and her take on the art-deco movement. As usual, her enthusiasm was contagious and everything he had been stressed about only minutes before was pushed aside. Her steadfast positivity always seemed to have that peculiar effect on him. It was as if she was unconsciously telling his negative inner voice to fuck off, and it listened.

He was being given this unbelievable opportunity to be in the company of this incredible woman, and his internal turmoil was threatening to ruin it. She radiated a vitality that drew him like a magnet, and he wasn't going to allow his negativity to put a damper on things. Not this day anyway.

A sexy, intelligent woman was nothing new for Logan. Most, if not all, of the women he had dated he considered to be equals when it came to intellect. Not one to ever want to come off as patronizing—it was one of those unspoken requirements on his list of compatible traits in a mate. Yet, the force of Chloe's aura crashed through him like a tidal wave, leaving him mystified. Whether she was sexually experienced or not, none of those women could hold a candle to her when it came to capturing and keeping his attention. Not that he was comparing, but it was hard not to think about past relationships when faced with the tension bubbling beneath the surface of his tenuous bond with the dark-haired beauty seated next to him.