later, her body belonged to him.
* * *
Logan struggled to open her eyes. Her head hurt. Her thoughts kept scattering. She was being carried up and up. They were moving, climbing, but climbing what? She could hear breathing as well as the sound of heavy, even thudding close to her ear. She was warm. The arms holding her were warm. She battled to open her eyes, needing to focus, wanting to remember.
She stared hard at the face above her, noting the jaw, a very strong, angular jaw with a hint of dark beard. He had a slash of cheekbone and a firm mouth. And then he looked down at her, and the sardonic hazel-green depths sent a shiver through her.
Rowan.
And then it started to come back. Joe saying there was a problem. Something with her father and then Rowan appearing...
She stiffened. “Put me down.”
He ignored her, and just kept climbing stairs.
Panic shot through her. “What’s happening? Why are you carrying me?”
She wiggled to free herself.
His grip grew tighter. “Because you fainted, and you’re bleeding.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. You smacked your head on the edge of the stage when you fainted, probably have a concussion.”
“I’m fine now,” she said, struggling once again. “You can put me down. Now. Thank you.”
“You won’t be able to make it up the stairs, and we’ve got to get out of here, so don’t fight me, because I’m not putting you down,” he said shortly, kicking the door to the roof open. “And if you don’t like being carried, then next time don’t be clumsy. Faint somewhere soft.”
“Where’s Joe? I need Joe!”
“I’m sure you do,” Rowan gritted as they stepped into the dazzling California sunshine. “Don’t worry, he’s following with your things.”
“My things? But why?”
“I’ll fill you in once we’re in the air. But enough chatter for now.” His cool gaze dropped and swept from her face down her neck to the swell of her breasts. “You’re not as light as you like to think you are.”
But before she could react, they were at the helicopter and the pilot was jumping out and opening the door. Rowan was putting her in the helicopter in one of the passenger seats but she turned in his arms, leaning past to find Joe.
“Logan,” Joe said, trying to reach her.
Rowan kept his arm up, blocking Joe from getting too close. “Put her things down,” Rowan directed, “and step back.”
But Logan grabbed Joe’s sleeve. “Handle things at home, Joe. Please?”
Joe’s dark eyes met hers and held. “Where are you going? When will you be back?”
“She’ll call you,” Rowan said drily. “Now say goodbye.”
“Tomorrow’s event,” Logan said.
Joe nodded. “We’ll make it work. I’ll make it work. Don’t worry.”
And then Rowan was climbing into the helicopter and the pilot began lifting off, forcing Joe to run backward to escape the intense wind from the churning blades.
“Nice boy,” Rowan said, shutting the door as Joe scrambled to safety. “Definitely on the young side, but so much more trainable before twenty-five.”
Logan shot him a furious glance. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Your lover, whatever.” He shrugged. “It’s not for me to judge what you do with your father’s money—”
“I don’t have a penny of my father’s money.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t his money. His embezzled billions.”
She ground her jaw tight and looked away, chest aching, eyes burning, mouth tasting like acid. She hated him...she hated him so much...
And then he leaned over and checked her seat belt, giving it a tug, making the harness shoulder straps pull tight on her chest.
She inhaled sharply, and his fingers slid beneath the wide harness strap, knuckles against the swell of her breasts.
“Too tight?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers, even as her nipples tightened.
“With your fingers in there, yes,” she choked, flushing, her body now hot all over. The linen and cotton fabric of her cream dress thin enough to let her feel everything.
He eased his hand out, but not before he managed to rub up against a pebbled peak.
And just like that memory exploded within her—his mouth on her breast, alternately sucking and tonguing the taut tip until he made her come just from working her nipple.
Her response had whetted his appetite. Not content with just the one orgasm, he devoted himself to exploring her body and teaching her all the different ways she could climax. It had been shocking but exciting. She’d been overwhelmed by the pleasure but also just by being with him. He’d felt so good to her. She’d felt so safe with him. Nothing he did seemed wrong because she’d trusted him—
Logan bit into her bottom lip hard to stop the train of thought. Couldn’t go there, wouldn’t go there, not now, not when her head ached and the helicopter soared straight up, leaving the top of the old Park Plaza Hotel building so quickly that her stomach fell, a nauseating reminder that she still wasn’t feeling 100 percent.
She put a hand up to her temple and felt a sticky patch of blood. She glanced down at the damp crimson streaking her fingers, rubbed them, trying not to throw up. “I know you specialize in rescue and intelligence, but isn’t the helicopter getaway a bit much?”
Rowan thrust a white handkerchief into her hands.
She took it, wiping the blood from her fingers, hoping she hadn’t gotten any on her dress. This was a new dress, a rare splurge for her these days. As she rubbed her knuckles clean she could feel him watching her. He wasn’t amused. She wasn’t surprised. He didn’t have a sense of humor three years ago. Why should he have one now?
“I just meant, it’s a little Hollywood even for you,” she added, continuing to scrub at her skin, feeling a perverse pleasure in poking at him, knowing he’d hate anything to do with Hollywood. Rowan Argyros might look like a high-fashion model, but she’d come to learn after their—encounter—that he was hardcore military, with the unique distinction of having served once in both the US Navy and the Royal Navy before retiring to form his own private maritime protection agency, a company her brother-in-law had invested heavily in, wanting the very best protection for his Greek shipping company, Xanthis Shipping.
Even more bruising was the knowledge that Morgan and Drakon were such good friends with Rowan. They both spoke of him in such glowing terms. It didn’t seem fair that Rowan could forgive Morgan for being a Copeland,
