Torn from You (2 page)

“Mouse.” He leaned in, and my hands went to
his upper thighs feeling the flex of his muscles beneath my palms.
“Look at me.” I did. “I want you with me. I’ll look after you.” His
voice lowered. “I’m not happy leaving you here, baby.”

And that was the problem; I didn’t want to
be “looked after.” I’d looked after myself all my life. My mom ...
I sometimes wondered if she even remembered she had a daughter.

“Emily. I don’t play games. I told you what
I want, and I know you want me.”

I didn’t know whether to be pissed or laugh
at his arrogance. What I did know was that I was turned on—big
time. How could he do that? I mean, he was just looking at me, and
yet ... his eyes abducted me. “Sculpt ... I ...”

Sculpt tightened his legs around me. “Eme.”
He gripped my chin and held me steady. He waited several seconds,
and I finally inhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll never hurt you. I know
you’re worried about the women.” I opened my mouth to speak, but
his eyes narrowed, and I shut it again. “I’m a fighter. I’m in a
band. The women will always be there, but I’m with you.”

And that was the issue. Why was he with me?
I wasn’t pretty, had big hips, mousey, brown hair, and my thighs
were my best feature. Most guys wouldn’t say so, because I was only
five foot three, and they liked the tall, skinny fawn-like legs. I
liked my thighs, because I rode horses, and they were the most
muscular, lean part of my body.

He stiffened, and I recognized the russet in
his eyes reflect in the moonlight. I laid my hands flat on his
chest feeling his beating heart beneath my touch. “Jesus, Emily,
you have to bury that shit your mother tells you. I swear if she
wasn’t a woman, I’d kick her ass.”

I gasped. How did he know about my
mother?

“Yeah, Mouse, I know it’s swimming around in
your head like a shark eating all your confidence. Do you think I
don’t pay attention? I’ve asked you about your mother, and I see
what it does to you. You spent most of your childhood at Matt and
Kat’s. A girl doesn’t do that if her mother is something special.
I’m certain yours is not. She’s put toxic shit in your head.”

“Sculpt ... I ... my ...” Yeah. I had no
words. He was right. My mom was toxic, and that was why I never saw
her, not that she’d remember if I did.

He tucked my hair behind my ear. It seemed
so natural; I wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “We’re
exploring this, Eme. I want you on tour with me.”

“I need more time, Sculpt. I can’t suddenly
decide to change my life and go with you. I have school starting
and Matt and Kat ...” My voice trailed off.

Silence.

“You want to train horses. Why are you
wasting your time going to college taking accounting?”

We’d been through this. “Sculpt, it’s a
silly dream. I need to focus on what’s real, and that is finding a
career and making money.”

“You’re wrong, Eme. You should be chasing
your dream.” He sighed. “I’m leaving. Next week.”

My breath hitched, and my heart felt like it
had been pierced with quills, and he hadn’t even left yet. “But I
thought—”

“Things have changed. We’re leaving sooner
than we planned.”

I couldn’t go. God, I wanted to, but he
needed to live his dream, and I had to make my own way. I never
wanted him to regret being with me. Anything I wanted in life I had
to reach for myself. I didn’t want someone else supporting me. One
good thing I’d learned from my mother was that if I wanted
anything, I had to get it myself, because she sure as hell wasn’t
going to give it to me.

“Sculpt. I can’t.”

“Emily.” He lay back in the grass scowling.
“You’re overthinking this.”

“But Sculpt—”

“No buts, Emily. I can’t handle any buts.
I’m pissed right now.”

“But—”

He sat up again, brows lowered. “No.”

“But you’ll like my but.” I leaned toward
him and nipped his chin. That got him to ease up, and his muscles
relaxed.

“I already like your butt.” His hand slid
down the small of my back to my ass and squeezed. It was playful,
but I could still see the darkness in his eyes, and his face was
hard.

“Sculpt. My but is important.”

“Yeah, Eme, it is.” I slapped him on the
shoulder, and I was glad when he laughed. “Okay, what’s your
but?”

“I was going to say,
but
...” His
brows rose. “Before you go, I want you to make love to me.” I
paused, seeing his brows rise with surprise, then I pushed on
quickly before I lost my nerve. “Like now, Sculpt. Right now. Here
in this spot where we always hang out together. Our place. You with
your guitar, and me with the horses.”

His hands that were slowly roaming, stopped
squeezing my upper thighs, and he stared at me with such intensity
that I was getting hot just watching him watch me. “That’s your
but?”

I nodded.

“I knew I liked your butt.” He put his hands
on either side of my face and met my eyes. “If you’re in my bed ...
you’re not in anyone else’s. You got that, Mouse? Even if I can’t
convince you in the next week to come with me—no one else’s.”

“Okay. Same goes for you.” Surrounded by
women night after night would be a lot harder for him than for
me.

Sculpt stroked the side of my face. “Emily.
You erase the bad in my life.”

I couldn’t imagine Sculpt having any bad. He
was hot, had an incredible voice, had a body that was no doubt in
the dictionary under the definition of muscle, and he had sexy
bedroom hair with intense, dark eyes.

He may not laugh often, but when he did it
was magical and made up for all the other times he didn’t. I sensed
the hardness in him, the untouchable part that he refused to let me
discover, but we’d only known one another for a couple months.

His thumb caressed my lips, and the ache
between my legs intensified. My stomach wasn’t just pretty little
butterflies; it was a flock of Egrets taking flight.

He picked me up and set me on the grass
beside him then got on his knees in front of me. He tilted forward,
and I leaned back until I was resting in the grass, and he was
hovering above.

My nerves were sparking off in every
direction while the twinge between my legs became a spasm of aching
need. I was breathing so fast that it was like I’d run a
marathon.

“Have you ever been touched, Emily?”

I shook my head too breathless to respond
verbally.

“If you’re not ready ... tell me now. Be
damn sure about this, Eme.”

He was dead serious, and it sent a strange
thrill through me. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted him here and now
with the wind against my skin, being in my favorite place in the
world with Sculpt. “I don’t want to wait.”

His hand swept into my hair and weaved
through the strands. His fingers tightened, and he pulled back, and
my breath hitched. “I’m tasting your pussy. Then Emily, I’m going
to fuck you until you scream. Does that make you nervous? Because
you’re trembling all over.”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Yeah, nervous? Or yeah you’re going to
scream when I sink inside of you for the first time?”

“Yeah, to all of it.” I’d wanted Sculpt
since the night I met him. Needed him. It was like I had been
living with anticipation for this moment my entire life. It scared
the hell out me. What if I sucked at it? What if we were
incompatible? What if it was awkward?

“I want you screaming and quivering. And
baby, you should be nervous ... because I plan on changing your
mind and having you begging me to take you on tour.” The corners of
his lips twitched, and my insides lit up like a goddamn
firecracker. I couldn’t help but think about what he could do to
me, how I’d say goodbye when it was time for him to leave. “You’re
Lego building, Emily. Rethinking your decision?”

I jerked and met his eyes. There it was—his
eyes dancing with laughter and desire, a sexy combination that had
me tightening my grip on his biceps.

He didn’t wait for my reply. “Too late,
Mouse. You’re mine.”

He tilted his head like he always did before
he kissed me, and claimed my lips. And he did claim, devour, and
feed the hunger we both felt between us. Heat flowed over my skin
as if the afternoon sun was beaming down on it. Little sparks
tap-danced shivers through my body. There was no hesitation in what
he was taking, what he wanted, and I fell into his kiss like melted
butter.

His hands stroked up my sides then down
again. “God, these curves.”

He groaned, and the vibration sent my heart
rate spiking. My hands found their way into his hair, pulling him
closer, harder. God, I needed him. It was like I was breathing for
this man. It wasn’t normal. Was this normal? Did it matter?

“Sculpt.”

He took my hands and placed them above my
head, locking them down with his own. “Logan. Call me Logan,
Eme.”

Oh God. His name. He told me his real name.
No one knew his real name. “Logan,” I said and heard him groan.

“Again.”

“Logan.”

His lips trailed succulent kisses down my
throat, his teeth nipping, then his tongue licking to take away the
bite. “I want you to call me that whenever we’re alone, Emily. Call
me Logan.”

“Okay.” It was a whispered moan mixed with a
sigh. Eyes closed, head thrown back, I edged my legs out from under
him on either side and wrapped them around his hips. He grunted as
I clenched, hoping to ease the ache, but all I did was make it more
intense. More aware.

“Oh God, Logan, please. I need you.” We
could savor and taste and discover one another the rest of the
week, but right now I wanted Logan inside me. I wanted to feel him
naked against me. It was like waiting at the top of a toboggan hill
and being rocked back and forth before being pushed over the
edge.

“I know, Mouse.” He nipped at my ear lobe
then suckled, and I fought against his hands that kept me pinned to
the grass.

I had to touch him, feel his skin, get rid
of the clothes that separated us. “Logan, please. Clothes.”

His head came up from him kissing my collar
bone. “We’re taking this slow. My way. I’ve waited too long to have
you right where you are now, under me, pussy aching, hot and sexy
as hell.”

I’d never been called sexy in my life, and
it sent a shudder straight through me hearing it from Logan.

“I like to play, Emily. It’s who I am. And
it’s in you too. I know you get turned on when I take control.” Did
I? I wasn’t experienced enough to really know what he was talking
about. “But if you’re scared of anything, I need you to say no.
That’s all it takes, and we stop. Understand?”

I got what he was saying. I mean, I wasn’t
oblivious to sex. I knew “play” could mean a few things, and it
made me nervous and excited at the same time.

He let go of my wrists, and I put my hands
on his abdomen and lifted his shirt inch by inch. Logan hovered
over me, watching my eyes. I saw him suck in air and close his eyes
for a second when my hands crept up his chest then slowly caressed
his nipples.

I kept my eyes on him, loving his reaction.
Loving how my touch was driving him crazy. My fingertips traced
every muscle on his chest then down to his abdomen. Every contour
was a new mountain for me to explore. I was panting, and Logan had
his eyes closed and was breathing harder than I was.

“Shirt, Logan.” I lifted it upward, and he
succumbed to my bribe and threw off his shirt. My hands went to the
button on his jeans, and he grabbed my hands and stilled them.

“No. I let you play so you could relax. Now
it’s me.” Within seconds he had my shirt up, over my head, and his
fingers were working at my bra. The snaps gave, and my breasts fell
from their confines into his hands.
“Emily.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He lowered his body, and then his tongue
circled my nipple while his hands caressed my side, down to my hip
then back up again to tease my breasts. My body was exploding with
sensations, pain as he bit my nipple, then pleasure as he suckled
sweetly and licked the sensitive skin with heated moisture.

I gripped his hair, eyes closed and body
arching into him as he sent me into a furnace of heat. Getting
myself off to him over the last couple months couldn’t even begin
to compete with the real thing.

He moved lower, soft kisses trailing down my
chest to my stomach. “This. And this.” He slid his hand to my hip.
“I love everything about your body.” His kisses went further, and
my body was already anticipating him. Ache was no longer a word
associated with what he was doing to me; it was much, much more
than that.

My hands curled in the grass, and I moaned
as his fingers undid my jeans.

The button popped.

The slow descend of my zipper drove me
crazy.

The sound was agonizing, because I wanted
him to rip them off and plunge deep inside of me, hard and fast.
But Logan wanted to do this slowly. Relish every moment, and yet, I
was dying for him.

“Logan.” My whispered moan was met with a
muffled, “Christ” as I felt his fingers reach in my jeans and go
lower. And lower until—

I stiffened, sucking in air.

“You’re wet.”

Well, yeah, I’d been wet for two-and-half
months. Logan turned me on just by looking at me. I ran my hands
through his hair. “I’ve been wet since the day I met you,
Logan.”

His head came up, and his eyes widened. God,
he had to have known how much I wanted him.

“Jesus, Emily.” He was kissing me again,
hands curled into my hair, and his mouth hard against mine. There
was no breathing, no thinking, just pure hunger.

He raised his head, both of us breathing
hard, his sexy bedroom hair falling in front of his right eye while
he looked at me with haunted openness. “I’m not letting you
go.”

I cupped his cheek with my shaking hand, my
thumb stroking across his stubble. “Don’t ever hurt me.”