Free Belong to Me by Shayla Black Page A

Cherry? Keep going.”
    He knew full well it would force her up on her tiptoes, putting her face breathlessly close to his.
    Raising up, Tara grabbed a handful of shirt and yanked.
    Logan grabbed her wrist. “Slowly.”
    Bastard! Her expression screamed it. Her fists clenched.
    He did nothing to help her as she raised the white cotton, dragging it up one arm, then the other, her mouth a bare inch under his own. He could smell mint on her breath. And that cherry-vanilla scent he’d always known as hers wafted between them. His mouth watered.
    Her gaze fell on the bold black tattoo she’d revealed, etched permanently on his ribs from armpit to hip.
    Logan tensed. “You read Japanese?”
    She shook her head. “What does it say?”
    “Never quit,” he lied. The truth would freak her out.
    Finally, she jerked the shirt over his face, then stepped back the instant the cotton cleared his head. That wouldn’t do.
    With one hand, he grabbed the garment and tossed it to a far corner of the room. With the other, he latched his hand around her neck. “You never back away from me without permission.”
    “You going to spank me again?” she challenged.
    No way would he give Tara the perfect means to ditch him. “Lie down on the bed, back flat against the mattress, legs spread.”
    Though she didn’t gasp or betray herself, her shock rippled across the tense silence. He could almost read her thoughts whirling as she wondered, worried, what the hell he was going to do.
    “Cherry, is there a problem?” He repressed a smile and crossed his arms over his chest.
    Slowly, Tara dropped one knee to the bed, then caught her weight on her outstretched hands. After a pause, she turned over, until her back hit the cool sheet. She hissed at the unexpected chill, arched, then settled.
    Fuck, all that red hair spread out across black silk, along with the sweet purity of her pale skin. Incredibly, he got harder. His dick would have a permanent zipper imprint if he didn’t get his leathers off soon.
    Tara was, no doubt, the fantasy he’d harbored all these years—only better. As a teen, she’d been a little shy. He’d never understood why she lacked self-confidence; from his perspective she’d had it all. Tara now knew who she was, wasn’t afraid to exert her independence. She was still clever and a bit of a mystery . . . but Logan still knew her, felt her.
    Right now, her trembling apprehension and anticipation damn near stole his breath and strangled his cock. Shit, he’d better get himself under control and seduce her into quitting or obeying, or he’d forget his purpose and do whatever it took to steal her for himself.
    As before, saving her life was more important than saving his heart.
    “I don’t remember you ever having trouble following directions, Cherry. There’s one more part of the instruction.”
    She had to be mad enough to spit nails. But she hid any anger or apprehension fairly well as she complied, slowly drawing her slender thighs apart, revealing the inside of her knees, the creamy expanse of skin up the inside of her leg. More . . . more, until the little birthmark appeared on the inside of her left thigh, exactly as he remembered.
    Satisfaction roared through him. Rightness. No matter what happened, a part of him would always belong to Cherry—and she to him.
    Finally, she eased her legs far enough apart to show every bit of the pink, swollen heaven he was dying to sink into. Sheer fucking orgasmic heaven awaited. He belonged there. Connected to her—skin, breaths, hearts.
    Logan edged closer and lowered himself to the bed. With his heart racing, he rolled beside her and propped his head on his hand. Cherry’s guarded brown gaze met his. Oh yeah, she was dying to know what he had planned.
    He could ease her into his touch, and if he was playing for keeps, that’s exactly what he’d do, give her a slow, sweet ramp up to an undeniable arousal that would have her gasping and clinging and begging to follow