to take a woman like her to bed anyway? He could have a woman who was enthusiastically on board with everything, rather than little miss prim and prissy.
Thankfully, they weren’t actually that far from her little house.
He saw the little half stone wall with the reflective address number on it and turned in. He followed the main drive for a while, then took a right, where he knew the road led to Olivia’s cottage, rather than to her parents’ house.
He pulled up in front of the little white-and-yellow cottage, illuminated by the small light on the porch, and didn’t even bother to put his truck in Park. Just pressed his foot down on the brake.
“See you later,” he said.
“Sure,” she said, opening up the passenger door, the overhead light casting a glow on her face.
She was pale. More than that, she looked terrified. Not just angry. But honest to God scared.
He groaned, putting the truck in Park. Then he reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “Olivia...”
For a moment she froze. For a moment she just stared at him, and he could see a small war being waged behind those pretty brown eyes. Then she jerked away from him, away from his touch. “Don’t.”
She shook her head, climbing down from the truck and slamming the door, clutching her purse and her sweater to her chest as she walked up to her front door. He watched until she was safely inside, and then shook his head, throwing the truck in Reverse and pulling out of the driveway too damned fast. But if he didn’t leave now, he was going to be tempted to go after her, and he knew that would be a bad idea.
His heart was raging like he had just run a marathon, his whole body so on edge he had a feeling a strong breeze could push him over.
No. Only Olivia.
He gritted his teeth against that thought. That regrettably true thought.
There was no point wanting her. There never had been. She was Olivia Logan, of the Logans of Logan County. As close to royalty as you could find in rural Oregon.
He did not have an inferiority complex. That wasn’t the issue. He was sure on her end those would be on her list of issues. As far as his went... She wanted love. She wanted marriage. She had made that abundantly clear. She was twenty-five years old and he was thirty-six. He had a hunch that she was inexperienced, and he sure as hell was not.
He was wrong for her in a thousand different ways, and his damned body couldn’t seem to hold on to that reality.
No, he wasn’t going after her. He was going home. He was getting in a cold shower.
And then he was getting blind-ass drunk so that he could forget he had ever put his hands on Olivia Logan.
Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it again.
* * *
OLIVIA STUMBLED INTO the house on shaking legs. A great, gasping sob escaping as she shut the door behind her and locked it. She didn’t know if she was locking it against Luke, to keep him outside, or locking it to keep herself inside.
Apparently, she didn’t know anything. Not about herself, not about a man who had been in her life in some capacity for close to twenty years.
She hadn’t known she could want like that. She hadn’t known she wanted him like that.
But that word had played itself over and over in her mind. Finally. Finally. Finally.
She couldn’t scrub it out of her brain even now.
Even now, as she walked through the living room and dumped her purse and her sweater on the couch, unbearably conscious of the fact that her stomach felt nauseous and that she was wet between her legs.
She heard her phone vibrate and she scrambled to grab hold of it. She had three texts from her mother. Asking if she was home yet.
And then another one rolled in.
Why were you with Luke Hollister at Gold Valley Saloon tonight?
She threw her phone on the couch like it was a rabid varmint and took a step away from it, scrubbing her face with her hands. She couldn’t have this conversation. Not now. She couldn’t answer these questions she didn’t have an answer to.
There’s a very simple answer. It’s to get Bennett back.
She was a liar. Even her head was a liar. She certainly hadn’t made out with Luke in his truck to get Bennett back. She hadn’t...
She pressed a hand to her stomach. She had kissed him and had an orgasm.
She’d never had an orgasm before in her life.
She was a good girl. She had worked so hard to be a good girl. And to be everything that Vanessa wasn’t.
To justify her existence. To justify the fact that Olivia the tattletale had ruined Vanessa the rebel’s life. Hadn’t it been essential to be good after that? To show it was possible to live the kind of life their parents wanted them to have? That it led to better places?
Or she was a hypocrite. She had to keep everything locked down so tight. She couldn’t even let go of it in private.
But a few minutes in private with Luke, a few minutes in his arms, with his hands on her body, and she had let go of everything she had worked so hard for. Everything that she had trained herself to be.
Without thinking, she stumbled back toward the bathroom, flicking on the switch, flooding the room with light that was far too bright. Far too revealing of everything that had happened over the space of the last half hour. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen. Her eyes were bright and fevered.
She was suddenly aware of the fact that her neck burned, and she angled her head to the side, looking at her reflection, looking at the trail of red that ran down her skin.
Whisker burn, she realized.
Those whiskers that had been captivating her for all this time had left their mark, that was sure.
Who was she? She didn’t have an answer to that. Or at least, not one she liked.
She pulled her dress up over her head, whirling around and turning on the hot water knob in her shower. Then she wrestled with her bra, extricating herself clumsily before shoving her leggings and her underwear down her thighs.
She stepped beneath the spray of water before it was warm, shivering as it slowly grew hotter and hotter, sluicing over her bare shoulders.
She was determined to stand there until she felt normal again. Until she could no longer feel the impression of his lips on hers, his stubble against her neck, his hands on her hips.
She stood there until the water got cold again, and she could still feel his touch. She stood there until she was too miserable and exhausted to do anything but turn the water off, wrap herself in a towel and sit on the edge of her bed.
Slowly, she became aware of her body. Of the fact that her breasts still felt sensitive, of the fact
