Chapter 15

The hotel was a dive.

Logan had stayed in fancier places in small towns around the country. But he needed to obliterate the ache clawing at his chest like a trapped animal desperate to escape that talking about his father had elicited; and sex with Hope was guaranteed to do that.

He'd never talked to anyone about his dad. Rick knew a fair bit of what went down because they'd been friends when Logan first moved to Melbourne and had been privy to the conversations—more like yelling matches—when his father reached out several times after his mum's funeral. But he'd never divulged the truth to a woman before and doing it with Hope spoke volumes.

He was in too deep.

Since when did a fling signify a real connection for him?

He'd dated extensively around the country over the years. Young tradies held a certain appeal for some women and as he aged, his company grew, he became CEO, and the money flowed in, he became popular with women in general. It didn't make him a bighead to admit it; it made him a realist. Women were attracted to money and ruggedness, and he had both.

Except Hope didn't give a fuck about his fortune, she had more than enough cash of her own. As for his looks, she trumped him in that department too. Even now, as he palmed the key card from the hotel receptionist and strode towards Hope, she stared at him with those big blue eyes, all-seeing, all-knowing. She wore funky faux leather pants today, with a green flowing top that highlighted her eyes. He'd been hot to trot from the moment he laid eyes on her. Then he'd blurted all that stuff about Stephen to explain his shoddy behaviour towards her and had felt like shit ever since.

Logan didn't depend on anyone. He'd been his own man for a long time now and confiding in Hope had been an anomaly. It mystified him in a way he didn't like. The last time he'd felt this befuddled had been at his mum's funeral and he hated feeling out of his depth.

He liked being in control. He didn't like vulnerability. Revealing too much about his family, having Hope listen and discuss and support, had shown that he had a weak spot—his dad—and that didn't sit well with him.

He didn't want her getting too close: it would only end badly for her. Bonding while they fucked was one thing, feeling comfortable enough around her to reveal too much was another.

He had to get this date back on track and that meant focussing on the sex. But she was right. He had to see Stephen. Settle this once and for all.

But what if seeing his dad after all these years made everything worse?

Spending his time on the road wasn't just about enjoying the spoils of being CEO of his own company. It wasn't about keeping his hand in with the building industry. It wasn't about being a demanding boss that had to oversee the commencement of projects personally.

It was about not growing close to anybody.

More importantly, not having anyone depend on him.

Because that was his ultimate fear: that he was more like his dad than he cared to admit and disappointing anyone who got too close because of his fear of commitment would be inevitable.

He'd seen what his mother's dependence on his father for her happiness had eventually done to her and it wasn't pretty. The emotional rollercoaster Stephen inflicted on her had taken its toll and he'd been privy to the fallout. It made him resent his dad all the more because somewhere deep inside, in a place he hated to acknowledge, he'd begrudged his father his ability to escape.

Stephen hadn't born the brunt of his mum's mood swings, Logan had, and it made him determined never to become so emotionally invested in a relationship that it produced an unhealthy co-dependence that left one partner always worse off. No fucking way.

Logan never wanted to be responsible for any woman's happiness, ever. Flings that lasted no longer than a month before he moved on suited him fine.

Gritting his teeth against the urge to call this off because of his mood, he forced a smile. It must've come out a grimace because that fucking pity was back in Hope's eyes and it slayed him all over again.

"Do you really want to do this—"

"Come on," he growled, grabbing her hand and holding on tight.

He strode towards the elevator, determined to douse his moroseness with a warm armful of woman. They rode to the fourth floor in silence but he was acutely aware of her: the heat radiating off her skin, her light floral fragrance faintly reminiscent of roses and vanilla, the brush of her hair against his arm.

When the elevator doors slid open, he spied their room number two doors to the right. She squeezed his hand when he fumbled the first card swipe and he cursed. He got it on the second try and pushed the door open, immediately regretting this decision as a faint musty odour tickled his nose and he caught sight of the room.

Hope deserved better than this.

She'd be a five star kind of girl and he'd brought her to this dive because…what? He wanted to use her to eradicate his over-sharing regarding his father, when he should've had the balls to confront him a long time ago?

"Stop overthinking this," she said, slipping in behind him and closing the door. "It's okay."

"This place is a shit hole," he muttered, leading her further into the room, which only cemented his first impressions. Worn carpet the colour of English mustard, pale blue bedspread torn in one corner, a small scratched desk and single chair with scuff marks on the legs, and heavily kinked olive drapes that sat askew, partially hiding the view of the brick wall of the apartment building next door. "It was a mistake bringing you here—"

"Ssh…" She pressed her fingertips to his mouth, silencing him. "I'm not a princess."

She lowered her hand and gently nudged him backwards towards the bed. "And I want to be with you."

She palmed his cock with one hand as his knees hit the back of the bed, and shoved him down onto it with the other. Determination glittered in her eyes as she stared at him, daring him to put a stop to this.

He should. His mood, this place, it was all wrong. But when he opened his mouth to say so, she increased the pressure on his cock. Tracing the rigid outline with her fingers, massaging him. Fuck, he was a goner.

"This is going to be good," she said, not breaking eye contact as she knelt at his feet and nudged his thighs apart, her hand continually stroking his cock through his jeans, making rational thought impossible.

All the angst of the last twenty minutes faded as Logan watched her unzip him. Anticipation made him light-headed as he propped on his elbows and this amazing woman slid her hand into his jocks, taking out his hard cock like it was the most precious gift she'd ever unwrapped.

Yeah, this is exactly what he needed. Sex with a hot woman. No time to think or feel. Just live.

When she swiped her tongue across the head in a slow, languorous sweep, he couldn't think about anything beyond this moment. Fucking perfect.

Her tongue circled him again as her hand gripped his shaft, strong and confident, and he gave himself over to enjoying this. Having her stare at his cock like she couldn't get enough was a huge turn on and he thrust his hips up a little.

She didn't need the encouragement and when her lips enclosed the tip, the feeling of her hot mouth encasing him ripped a groan from the back of his throat.

Her lips slid over him, her hand rising up to meet her mouth. Sucking and squeezing. Up and down. Over and over again, blanking everything but the hot moistness of her mouth and the strength of her grip.

His hips bucked as she sped up, sucking and squeezing, until the delirium of release overtook him. It felt like his balls lifted into his body as he thrust into her mouth and came, the milking of his release so strong his ass arched off the bed.

She didn't speak as she slowly slid him out of her mouth. But she kissed the tip of his cock and he trembled again, his super sensitive skin attuned to her every touch.

She stood and sat next to him on the edge of the bed, tucking him back into his jocks when all he needed was some time to get back in the game.

When she rested her head on his shoulder and didn't speak, he had no idea what the hell was going on. He reached for her and she held a hand to his chest to stop him.

"This was about you," she murmured, snuggling into him when he wrapped his arm around her. "I can wait."

He didn't want her to. He wanted to bury himself in her. He wanted to annihilate the uncharacteristic ache in his chest that her unselfishness elicited.

He wanted to fuck and forget.

His cock better get with the program because the faster he recovered from her sensational blowjob, the faster he could focus on what he did best. Fun for a short time not a long time, then leave.

Anything else remotely resembling an emotional connection wasn't an option.