Too Wrong: Hayes Brothers Book 2

Stupid, silly, reckless.

That’s me. God, what was I thinking coming here?

I’ve never been to this part of Newport. The estate has been under construction for two years, but judging by the cars dotted around the driveways, all the houses are now occupied.

Logan has been overseeing this project since the beginning. He’s the Architectural Director at Stone & Oak Residential Construction Company, owned by his grandfather. If the rumors are true, he’s one of the most visionary architects the company has seen in fifty years. I knew he was working on this, but I didn’t know that one of the beautiful, two-story houses with a pristine front lawn and white and gray cladding was his. 

Obtaining his address wasn’t easy. I couldn’t ask Thalia without piquing her interest and risking questions I wouldn’t know how to answer, so instead of putting myself on the spot, I settled for a much creepier, disturbing option.

I followed him home yesterday… in an Uber. My car is too noticeable. He would’ve seen me coming from a mile away, so I called a driver I use whenever I hit the club with Thalia or Kaya. He’s a cool kid, earning money to pay for college tuition. He didn’t mind playing detective, but the look on his face when I asked him to follow Logan’s car was priceless.

I’m not proud of myself, but now that I stand in front of the door, dressed like a hooker, I can’t bring myself to regret playing stalker. If there’s one thing about Logan I know for sure, it’s that he enjoys sex too much to send me home once he sees what hides underneath the long, gray cardigan I wear.

His car sits in the driveway, and the lights shine inside, so he must be home. I just don’t know if he’s alone. It’ll be difficult to explain my visit if one of his brothers is with him and decides to open the door instead of Logan. It’s not like I have a believable lie at the ready. Or any lie for the matter.

It’ll be heartbreaking if he’s got a woman there, ready to get naked and hop into his bed. Or worse, ready to cuddle into his muscular chest on the sofa and watch a lame TV show. 

Hopefully, choosing Wednesday to pay him a visit will save me from heartache and humiliation. It’s unlikely he’ll have company at eight in the evening on a weekday, right?

One deep breath filters through my lungs, calming my mind and keeping my courage intact. This is what I want, need, and can’t stop thinking about. 

Replay.

Passion, lust, desire.

I want to feel it again. His big, strong hands on my body, soft lips on my skin, breathless whispers in my ear as he goes above and beyond to make me come any way he can. A rush of heat hits me at the thought, the anticipation sky-high already.

Emotions are absent, locked in a bulletproof container, and buried deep under the ocean where no one—except for me tomorrow—will ever find them.

Tonight is about being physical. 

Just sex.

Nothing more.

That’s all I came here for: to feel my body relax in his arms and then tense when a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a freight train, stripping my mind of the firewall and sending me rushing into a state where nothing bad can touch me.

The second deep breath is to clear my head and focus on what lies ahead. The man I crave with my entire being. The man I’ve fantasized about non-stop for almost two weeks. The man that makes my heart skip a beat.

With a trembling hand, I knock three times, shaking my head slightly to fan out my hair, letting it flirt with my shoulders. I untie the belt of my cardigan, revealing a set of red, lacey lingerie I bought especially for Logan. I spent the afternoon at Victoria’s Secret, looking for something that visually enhances my small boobs and accentuates my toned ass. 

I kill myself at the gym five times a week to keep that ass toned. It’s only fair I use my best feature to convince Logan to sleep with me again.

Lord, I think I’ve got this backward. Aren’t men usually the ones who trick women into sleeping with them?

My heart skips a beat when the handle moves, the lock clicks, and the door opens inward. A soft glow of LED lights attached to the wall an inch above the floor illuminates Logan, casting shadows across his bare chest and handsome face.

He’s not wearing his signature baseball cap tonight. His dark, haphazardly styled hair is short at the sides and longer at the top, with a few stray locks kissing his forehead. A towel hangs over his neck as if he’s ready to work out.

He doesn’t say a word, looking me over, feasting on the luxuriously expensive lingerie. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and his eyes darken with every inch of my body he discovers.

A subtle change happens before my eyes when desire takes control of his mind. The grip he has on the door tightens, teeth grind. He rifles me down with a piercing stare, a wave of heat passing between us.

The smell of his cologne makes me feel at home: safe and calm, but I push those thoughts aside. Physical. This is supposed to be physical.

No emotions, no feelings, no longing.

Just crazy, wild sex.

I step forward before I change my mind and run with my tail between my legs. I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, bracing against his chest to keep my balance.

He doesn’t react.

He’s not moving, not returning the kiss, stiff as a board. 

An anticlimax of shame burns my cheeks, kicking the rhythm of my heart into a disorganized beat. I break the kiss, settling back on my heels, and inch away, but Logan doesn’t let me take one step. He grips my jaw with one hand, wraps the other around me, and catches my lips with his, dragging us inside his house.

It’s the sweetest torture when his tongue teases my lip, begging for more. I part my mouth, letting him deepen the kiss, adding gasoline to the fire raging in every cell of my body. I’m the opening of a volcano, ready to erupt when the door slams shut with a bang.

Logan shoves me against it, devouring my lips as if this is the first time he has ever kissed me. As if he waited to taste me for years. His big body presses into me so hard I feel his erection jut against my tummy. 

He skims his hand from my jaw, down the side of my body, and grips my thigh, lifting my right knee up to rest on his hip bone. I keep it there while he touches the inside of my leg, getting closer to the most sensitive spot. 

“I knew you’d come for more,” he says, his voice heavy as he rests his forehead against mine, touching the damp fabric between my legs. “So ready for me…”

“Always,” I utter, breathless and shamefully aroused. 

A torrent of pleasant shivers zips down my spine when he moves my panties aside and slowly pushes two fingers inside me as if he’s savoring the moment.

“Oh… shit, I—” Words die on my tongue. He’s had his fingers inside me for ten seconds, but the orgasm is right there already. And just as it’s about to hit, he pulls his fingers out. “Logan, please…”

“Shh, princess, it’s okay. It’s coming. I promise.” 

He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me into his arms, and crosses the hallway, aiming for the stairs. I kiss and nibble the heavenly-smelling flesh in the crook of his neck, drunk on endorphins. It’s a stupid, immature thought, but I want to give him a hickey. Mark him so no other woman will sleep with him for a while. I don’t go ahead with the idea, too afraid he’ll throw me out of here before he makes me come. 

And I need to come.

I’ve been aching for his touch for two weeks, which might be why he got me to the edge at the speed of light. The long, silicone cock in my nightstand doesn’t do the job half as well as Logan.

The world doesn’t exist when he carries me up a flight of stairs. I knot my fingers in his hair, tugging gently when we’re halfway down the landing, and he stops, pushing me against the wall to kiss me again. There’s no longer any blood in my veins, replaced by lust mixed with adrenaline. 

Pictures fall off the hooks when he starts walking again, his lips not leaving mine. I doubt he sees where he’s going, but I don’t care. As long as his arms are around me, I don’t care about anything. Cold satin gives me goosebumps when he throws me on the bed. 

“Fingers, lips, or cock?” he asks, sliding the straps of my bra down my arms. He unbuckles the clasp and throws the scrap of red lace on the floor. My panties fly across the room next, a second before Logan dips his head to suck one of my nipples.

“All three, please,” I breathe, drowning in the moment.

He pushes two fingers back inside, his touch like an electric shock to my nervous system. I’m so worked up from two weeks of imagining this moment that Logan has me on edge again within half a minute. I close my eyes, spasms running through me, the incoming orgasm something to behold.

“Nah-ah,” he whispers. “Look at me, baby. Don’t lock yourself in your head. You need to watch me fuck you. You need to see how perfect you are when you take me. You need to memorize every second so you can make yourself come thinking about me from now on because this is the last time we’re doing this.”

Any other time that would hurt, but I refuse to let his words get to me. According to our previous deal, tonight shouldn’t be happening. I’m grateful he made an exception and didn’t tell me to get the hell out of his house.

Holding his gaze isn’t easy with the waves of pleasure rumbling through me. I want to close my eyes, throw my head back and surrender to the thrill, but I don’t. His hooded eyes are glued to my face, his pupils blown as he brings me higher.

“Now,” he says, curling his fingers to graze the most tender spot. “Come for me, princess.”

And as if it’s an order, my body vibrates, and the orgasm hits. The sound of blood sings in my ears, dark spots blur my vision, but I don’t look away. I hold his eyes hostage, coming apart at the seams. A wave of fire floods my body, intense and all-consuming to the point it makes my eyes prickle.

“You’re so fucking hot when you come,” he says, easing his fingers out to caress my pussy. “I want one more.”

He dives between my thighs, licking, sucking, and getting what he wants in two minutes flat. I’m not done trembling when he kicks his sweatpants off, watching me as I eye his dick. I have no idea how he fits that inside me.

He climbs back on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and cuffs my wrist, helping me up. “Ride me. Show me what you’ve got.”

“You should’ve asked before my legs became jelly.” I kiss his lips, then tug his arm, forcing him lower until he’s no longer sitting but lying on his back, head propped on the pillows.

I ease myself down on top of him, loving the control and dominance of having Logan at my mercy, dependent on my touch and pace. He grips my waist when I rest my hands on his chest and kiss his lips, letting my hips do the hardest work. 

It’s like twerking, just faster, naked, on my knees, and with his cock sliding in and out of me.

“Fuck.” He gouges his fingers into my flesh hard enough to bruise. I think he realizes that because a second later, he eases off a little. “Baby, you need to slow down, or this will end much sooner than I’d like.”

I bite his lip, keeping the excruciating pace intact despite how weak my legs feel. “You said show me what you’ve got, so shut up and take it.”

I should’ve listened…

If I did, we would’ve been in bed for much longer than the few intense minutes, but I can’t bring myself to regret it when his teeth sink into his lower lip in a display of pure, unrestrained pleasure. He holds my hips, pinning me down, eyes on mine as he spills deep inside me with a low, stony growl.

A minute. That’s all the time he gives us to catch our breath before he pats my hip, urging me to get off him.

“Last time, Cass,” he says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Don’t show up here again.”

I bob my head, falling back on the pillow, eyes closed, body weak and warm. I feel him get up and hear the bathroom door close. The shower starts running while I lay there, ghosting my fingers over my swollen lips. The thought of Logan naked under the stream of hot water gets me worked up all over again.

Last time echoes in my head, a pang of disappointment coursing through my veins. A part of me understands why he doesn’t want to continue casual sex regardless of how good we are together. He cares about his brothers. He’d never jeopardize their relationship for the sake of fucking me every now and then. There are hundreds of women in Newport he can screw with no consequences.

He has no reason to keep this up.

Unlike me.

I’ve been suppressing my feelings, but it’s like fighting the wind.

Don’t show up here again.

It’ll be safer for my sanity to oblige. Safer for my heart because the fire rekindles every time his hands touch my skin. I want to stay here just a bit longer; watch Logan when he emerges from the bathroom; study and memorize the contour of his face, high cheekbones, and full raspberry lips that skillfully worked my body.

My heart skips a beat when he turns the water off, and the shower door slides with a characteristic sound. I sit up, holding the sheets close to my chest. Maybe he’ll be up for another round if this is the last time? I’m weak and exhausted, but I’ll muster some strength if it means holding onto him for longer, but first, I need to clean up.

The bathroom door opens, and Logan casts a sideways glance at the bed. His step falters, features pinch. “What are you still doing here?” he snaps. “You know where the door is, Cass. We’re done here. Off you go.”

Blood drains from my face. My blissful smile vanishes without a trace. I didn’t expect to cuddle but being thrown out like a cheap hooker ten minutes after he fucked me and before I could wipe his cum dripping down my thighs cuts me deep.

“Get moving,” he clips again, throwing my cardigan at the bed without another look my way.

His attention doesn’t deviate from his phone as I get dressed quickly, the insides of my thighs wet and sticky, making a mess out of the expensive, red panties. I thought I had reached the limit of humiliation three years ago.

I was wrong. This is worse. 

Tears sting my eyes when I shove my hands into the sleeves of my cardigan and tie the belt around my waist, careful not to look directly at Logan. Two weeks ago he kissed me before he left my flat. I expected the same today. A kiss and I’ll see you around, but I must’ve overstepped an invisible line when I showed up at his doorstep.

In true Logan fashion, he took what I offered, and once satisfied, he let his true colors shine.

I retreat out of the room as if a pack of vicious dogs is hot on my tail. I almost trip over my feet dressed in heels when I fly down the stairs, taking two at a time. 

How can a person feel so blissfully satisfied and fulfilled one minute, then balance on the verge of bursting into tears the next? 

I don’t even know why I’m so emotional. It’s Logan, for Christ’s sake. What the hell did I expect? That he’ll fetch a warm washcloth? My eyes prickle with tears, my vision blurry as I reach for the doorknob.

Heavy footsteps resonate behind me. Logan’s not rushing, casually strolling down the stairs. I feel his burning gaze on my back as if he’s holding me at gunpoint. “You got a car around here?” he asks, no trace of annoyance from two minutes ago.

I don’t answer. My voice would betray the upcoming tears, and no way I’ll give him the satisfaction.

I fling the door open, my chin quivering harder with every step. Warm, salty drops fall free, trickling down my cheeks before the door fully closes behind me. I feel so… used.

Worthless, dirty, and stupid for coming here in the first place.

My car is parked two streets away because I am considerate and didn’t want to leave my yellow Fiat in front of Logan’s house in case someone decided to pay him a visit. I pull the visor down, check the state of myself in the mirror, and wipe away wet traces of mascara off my cheeks, inhaling three deep, calming breaths.

This is nothing.

I’m used to being treated like a leech. I’ve survived worse than Logan Hayes. My life has been filled with people who didn’t give a damn about me and to whom I’ve been a nuisance since the day I was born. My alcoholic parents only cared about a few hundred dollars they received from state benefits. It was all about money for the foster families that took me in, too.

I survived neglect, hunger, and loneliness.

Pain and fear.

Humiliation.

Heartache.

Logan won’t be the one to break me.

I turn the key in the ignition and shift into gear but fall short of pulling away when a set of knuckles taps against the window. Logan stands by the car wearing sweatpants and a white shirt, hot as sin A-grade douchebag.

“What?!” I snap, pressing the button to roll down the window, eyes on the road, foot on the brake.

He bends down until we’re at eye level and rests his elbows on the door. “Why are you upset?”

I scoff. The humiliation tearing me apart morphs into anger. “I’m not upset.” My nails whiten more the harder I grip the steering wheel, but I curl my lips into a mocking smile. “I’m always super happy when I’m treated like a hooker.”

“A hooker?” He cocks an eyebrow, his lips forming a thin line as he tries to hold a smile in check. “What did you expect? You came over to fuck, right? Did I not deliver? Or did you think you could stay the night?”

“Of course not!” I might be living in la-la land, dreaming of Logan being mine, but I’m not stupid. It’s just sex, and I agreed, but… “I just didn’t expect you to kick me out before I could wipe your cum off my thighs, asshole. Move before I drive over your legs.”

Recognition flickers across his face as if a bulb lit up over his head. “Shit.” He carelessly scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t think, alright? I thought you wanted to cuddle, and that’s not happening. You should’ve told me you wanted to grab a shower instead of storming out like a fucking drama queen. I don’t read minds, Cass.”

“It’s basic courtesy,” I snap, my chest so tight it feels as if my bones have cinched around my lungs. He has no idea how uncomfortable and demeaning it feels to pull on a pair of panties while I’m wet with him. “Next time you touch yourself, come in your pants and take a walk. See how you like it.” I press the button to close the window and release the break, forcing him to step aside or the back wheel of my car will mark his shoes.