Free Torn from You by Nashoda Rose

after he
made love to me. He’d wake up and kiss me, and I’d be lost within
his touch.
    I felt the ache between my legs as I let my
imagination roam. His thigh resting over mine, hard and warm. Him
on top, the feel of his weight making my desire flood every nerve
in my body.
    His hands caressing my skin, soft then
possessive as if he couldn’t get enough of me. I moaned as I
imagined his fingers playing with my hair while his other hand
squeezed our interlocked fingers. Then his lips kissed my shoulder,
and I nearly leapt out of my skin when the desire shot right
through me, and I realized it was no longer my imagination.
    I scrambled out of his arms so fast that I
fell off the bed. When I came to my feet Logan was lying on his
back an arm casually laid over his abdomen. He turned slightly to
look at me, and I felt the coldness in his gaze trickle over
me.
    “Go shower, Emily.” He nodded to the right
where I saw a door.
    I didn’t think twice about following his
orders as I ran to the refuge of the bathroom, but before I could
shut the door he said, “Leave it open.”
    My hand dropped from the door handle even
though all I wanted to do was slam it shut and lock it; of course
there was no lock to keep him out. Regardless, a deadbolt wouldn’t
keep Logan out. I suspected nothing would.
    In a way, that was partly why I fell for
him. He was determined and focused. Unfathomable. He was confident
with no fear. A steady resolve as if nothing could break him. It
was a scary hot, and it made me feel protected. Now ... it scared
me. Because now I didn’t trust him.
    I started to undo the buttons of my white
nightgown he’d given me to wear, and when I looked in the mirror I
gasped. He could see me. From the bed he watched me in the mirror
undressing. His hands were locked behind his head, and his face was
unreadable as he stared.
    My fingers fumbled on the buttons, and it
took me several tries to get the last one undone. I closed my eyes
as I slid the silk material off my shoulders and let it drop to the
floor. I wasn’t going to look at him, I tried to stop myself, but I
opened my eyes and froze.
    Heat. Blazing desire in the dark depths of
his eyes. He looked me up and down slowly, casually as if he had
all the time in the world ... And he did. He controlled everything
about me now. If he became bored or annoyed with me he could sell
me without a moment’s hesitation. That alone made me do anything he
wanted.
    I lowered my head so I couldn’t see his
expression, and then opened the frosted glass door to the shower
and stepped inside.
    Was he going to come in after me? Would he
touch me? Hold me? Make love to me? What was I thinking? There
would never be making love again, it would be fucking. The question
was whether it would be willing or not.
    I turned on the tap to straight cold wincing
as the freezing water hit my skin. It jolted any desire I was
foolishly feeling over Logan right down the drain.
    I quickly washed my hair then picked up the
washcloth to scrub the stench off my skin. I rubbed so hard that my
skin turned bright red. I lightened the pressure on the back of my
legs and avoided my back, where my skin was still raw. I needed to
get the feeling of Alfonzo and Jacob and Raul off me. Logan? Why
hadn’t I even thought of Logan? Why wasn’t I sick to my stomach at
the thought of him holding me all night?
    “Come out here.”
    The washcloth dropped from my hands as I
looked and saw the outline of Logan leaning up against the counter,
arms crossed.
    I turned off the taps and came out. He
looked me up and down and frowned then reached over and grabbed the
towel hanging on the hook. He came toward me, then began drying my
skin. There was nothing methodical about it either. It was slow and
sensual; he held the towel in his palm, so his thumb could brush
over my skin with each stroke. His hand slid over my abdomen then
lower until his hand rested on my mound. He stopped and looked at
me. “Open.”
    I swallowed.