Three Hot Wishes (Fantasy Come to Life - Magic in the Real World Novel) (6 page)

Chapter 11

I followed him to the limo and tried to get in as gracefully as I could once he opened the door. I'm sure I exposed a lot of leg and probably a little bit of something else as well, judging by the hungry gaze Logan swept up me as he leaned forward, offering me a hand to help me in.

I accepted the offer, telling myself it was either that or fall flat on my face. In truth though, I'd already gone too long without feeling the heat of his touch. His hand was strong, rougher than I'd expect from a man who made his living tearing apart companies and rebuilding the pieces. The calloused palm was sexy though, and I made a mental note to include a scene where he takes Emma to a remote house on the edge of a pristine lake. He'd chop wood for the fire, and she'd get a chance to see him take off his shirt.

Just the thought of those rippling muscles made my head swim, and I plunked myself down in the seat beside him as the chauffeur shut the door and walked around the limo to the driver's seat.

"Hi again," I said awkwardly, smoothing the robe's fold along my thighs, making sure I wasn't flashing him any more skin than I had to.

"Hello," he said, his voice a strong, clean baritone. I could hear it cutting through board rooms and across construction yards. It was the voice of a man who was used to being listened to, who used it as a tool and knew its effectiveness. "I was worried you wouldn't be joining me."

I looked at him, perhaps for the first time studying his features and then dismissing him, trying to see through to the man underneath. I'd written him, after all. At least, I would. He was a character as much as any of the others in any of the previous books I'd written, and that meant that I should be able to deconstruct him the same way he did to all those fictional corporations that had made him his fortune.

"No you weren't," I told him confidently after I'd used my authorly knowledge on him for a moment. "You're just saying that so I might think you're a little softer than you actually are, trying to convince me you're not after me for one thing and one thing only. The truth is, Logan, you
knew
I'd be getting into this limo. You couldn't imagine me
not
getting into it, actually."

His jaw twitched a little, and I knew I'd hit home. I wasn't trying to be mean to him, but it was important that he knew where we both stood. Logan smiled. "I must admit, when I ask for a thing, I am used to getting that thing."

I nodded. I had a feeling that honesty was going to get both of us farther along than either of us was willing to admit. "And what 'thing' are you planning on asking for today?"

There was a question he certainly didn't want to answer, but that hot look of need came back into his eyes for just a moment. Of course. Here was a man who had everything but me.

It made sense that he'd want to add me to his collection.

I reached out and took the hem of the robe in my fingers, pulling it open just enough to reveal a slice of thigh and a length of leg to him. He reached out for me, and I let his hand almost come into contact with the bare flesh before twitching the robe closed once more. "Play your cards right, and you just might get what both of us want."

My phone started going off in my purse. Now, maybe some women prefer a more dainty, gentle ring tone. The sound of wind chimes, or the lovely effervescent melody of two unicorns cooing love songs to one another across a dew strewn field on an autumn morn.

Not me, though. Mine was a blaring monstrosity of air horns and sirens, meant to wake me from the night before in case my David was calling with news about a book signing or a new offer for one of those made for TV movies they kept trying to get me to write for them.

The ring tone was so loud that it actually startled the chauffeur, who jerked the steering wheels in his hands and made the limousine's wheels squeal before he brought the vehicle back under control.

Great,
I told myself,
Just perfect. I can see the headlines now. Romance Writer in fatal wreck whilst on a date with her own imagination. Of course, no newspaper in their right mind would use the word 'whilst', but still...

"Sorry," I said, apologizing to both Logan for teasing him more than I meant to with the strip show and the driver for almost getting us into a smash. I fished my phone out of my purse and sighed.

It was David. For a second or two I debated taking it. It would have been rude, yes, but if one can't be rude to the things one creates out of thin air, when can one be? Still, decided against it. He'd either be telling me my advance was on the way or he'd be breaking the news that Wellspring had said no. Either way, there was nothing I could do with the information right now, so I turned the phone to silent and put it back into my purse.

"Who was that?" Logan asked.

"Oh, nobody important," I said, rolling my eyes. "Just my editor."

"A man?"

I nodded. "Yep. David. He's good at what he does, and I should probably be taking that call. If luck is on my side though, he'll-"

"Fire him," Logan said, his voice cutting through mine like it didn't even exist.

"Huh?"

Logan waved his hand in the air as if he were clearing away smoke. "Get rid of him. I'll find you someone knew. A woman. Whoever it is will get you more money than this David ever did, and you'll be glad to be rid of him. We both will."

I frowned. Logan hadn't been anything other than the perfect gentleman up until now, but the way he was reacting to a simple phone call from my editor seemed to hint at something more, something darker... It was clear that he didn't want me to have dealings with other men, though that was absurd, considering I'd only met good ol' dashing Logan Mercado less than an hour before.

Or had I?

Hadn't I really met him last night, when I first started writing about him?

I shook my head. No, no I'd been meeting Logan Mercado, in one form or another, for years and years. Growing up reading about billionaire playboys who could buy and sell the world at a whim had helped me craft him, and I felt like I'd known him forever.

Wherever we were going, it was hardly a first date. I'd danced this dance in my head a hundred times, reading and writing and fantasizing about men with big wallets and even bigger dicks. Logan was just the latest version of the controlling, manipulative, "I'll give you anything if you only give me everything" lovers that had dominated the books I'd been reading and writing for decades.

And, at least for now, I was at his mercy.

Chapter 12

"Where are we going?" I asked, a little afraid of what the answer would be.

Logan held up one finger as he pulled his phone from his breast pocket with the other hand. He jabbed his thumb at the screen and put the screen to his ear. "Yes. Find another agent for Emma. Someone better than the guy she's got." He waited a moment, ignoring completely the
hang up that damn phone this instant!
signals I was waving frantically at him, feeling more like a third base coach trying to get through to an overeager runner than half of this romantic couple.

"Yes," he said again, once whoever it was had finished speaking.
 
"A woman."

Shit. Could he really do that? I had no doubt that if Logan were real, I mean really real, that firing David and hiring someone else would be a cinch for him, but could the man I was sitting next to
actually
do that.

Maybe. It was hard to argue against his realness when I was zooming down the 405 freeway in his limousine, come to think of it. If he was only in my head, then I was either in a coma or something back at the house, in which case me getting in contact with David and telling him to ignore possible future threats of me firing him wouldn't matter much, or I was stuck in some asylum somewhere.

I slid my phone back out of my purse and hid it with my body as I fired off a quick text message to him.

You are not fired. Will explain later.

I managed to get the phone out of sight just as Logan finished his call. "All taken care of," he said.

"That really wasn't necessary," I told him. "I'm fully capable of making my own business decisions, you know?"

Logan nodded, putting his hand on to my thigh without asking permission. "Of course you are. But the point is, now that I'm around you don't have to."

I sighed, leaning into his muscled body without even realizing what I was doing until the movement was already done. It wasn't fair, really. The way I'd written him, the way men like him had always been written, they were so damn powerful, so perfectly
in control
that when they looked at you or touched you or said your name, you simply melted.

"Emma," he said into my ear, his breath warm on the nape of my neck.

Except that wasn't my name. That was what I'd called his love interest, and just like that the spell he'd been crafting, most likely without even knowing he was casting it, frayed at the ends.

"I'm not Emma," I said softly.

"We'll go and pick you something beautiful to wear," he said. "I've arranged for the store to be ours for the afternoon. No pesky clerks, no nosy salesgirls. We can go in and you can try on whatever you like. Once you find something you're interested in, I want you to come out of the dressing room and put on a little show for me."

I bit my lip. It was as if he hadn't heard me tell him I wasn't who he thought I was. His voice hadn't skipped a beat.

"And then?" I asked, leading him on, trying to see how far the man I'd planned to write about next was thinking of taking our first encounter.

"And then I'm going to show you what I've wanted to do to you since the moment I first laid eyes on you."

Right. Well, he sure did move fast, I suppose. If I were writing all of this, right here was where I'd throw in some sort of messy obstacle. After all, rich guy wants girl, rich guy has girl probably
isn't
an award winning formula to follow if I wanted to keep the readers on the edge of their seats.

But this was, at least for the most part, real life. I didn't have any plot point to put in his way, not unless I simply ran from him the moment the chauffer opened the limo's door.

Maybe I should. Maybe I was already in over my head and I was only just starting to realize it...

Logan ran the tip of his finger up my side, hooking the robe's belt and giving it a playful tug. I found myself hoping he'd open it more, wanting with a desire I couldn't remember feeling before for this incredible man to truly own me the way he'd threatened to.

God help me, I wanted him to make me his. It had been so long since I'd felt anything even remotely like that, and now that I was so near to someone who I knew for a fact could make me into what I wanted to be, I shuddered.

"Logan?"

"Yes?" His lips brushed my temple, and I felt my hand drop to his thigh. His muscles were hard, and when he shifted in his seat to slide his hand beneath the robe and cup my breast, I moaned long and low.

"I'm scared," I said, honest with us both at last. Giving myself to this man was a frightening proposition. It didn't mean I didn't want everything he had for me, but it was hard to admit that I may not be ready for it.

"I know," he said, his broad thumb dragging across my nipple, toying with me, making my thighs squeeze together with lust as he sent little bolts of lightning to pool in my clit.

I opened my eyes, only just now realizing that I'd closed them. Logan was looking at me, watching my reactions to the things he was doing. He caught my aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger and massaged it gently, rolling it softly, making my mouth open involuntarily and then dipping his head to cover my mouth with his own.

Our tongues danced. It was just like I'd always written. I opened up beneath him, and his body pressed to mine. I felt my body vibrate as another moan slid from me into him, and I parted my legs, hoping against hope that his strong fingers would find my pussy and make me his right now.

I didn't care who saw or who heard. I didn't care if the chauffeur watched. I just wanted Logan Mercado to fuck me.

His hand on my breast grew rougher, and I felt a bright lance of pain mix with the pleasure he was milking from my breasts.

That was when I knew how far gone I was. Instead of pulling away, or putting my hand on his and asking him to go back to the gentle, intimate actions he'd started with, I slid my hand up his leg and found his thick erection, grabbing it as roughly as he was using me, smiling beneath his kiss as he hissed in the same sort of pain-laced pleasure that, until now, had been his personal stock in trade.

The limousine pulled to a halt. For a moment neither one of us wanted to be the first to retreat, so we remained as we were. I squeezed his cock through his six thousand dollar suit and he pawed roughly at my body underneath a bathrobe I'd stolen from a Hilton in Idaho.

When the driver opened the door, Logan and I did our best to compose ourselves, taking a moment to fix belts and wipe away lipstick before sliding out of the backseat and making our way to a store so exclusive I wondered if I'd ever be allowed in again.