Chapter 6

Hope loved the vibe of inner Melbourne and its surrounding suburbs. Carlton, with its lush parks and 'Little Italy' on Lygon Street, Albert Park, with its lake and restaurants, and Brunswick, the bohemian capital of the city jam-packed with alternative boutiques, bars, and comedy clubs. But she rarely ventured into North Melbourne and discovered she'd been missing out. Trendy eateries lined Curzon Street, but as she followed the instructions of her trusty Sat-Nav she found herself in the backstreets where a small, grungy pub sat on a corner.

It figured Logan would ask her to meet him here.

He had this thing for throwing her off guard. Maybe he wanted her to feel out of place? Maybe he'd already labelled her as some rich bitch wanting to slum it? Neither could be further from the truth because as she found a park not far from the front door and entered the pub, an immediate sense of coming home enveloped her.

This place reminded her of the small pubs Harry used to play in.

Dark wood panelling adorned the walls roughly three quarters of the way from floor to ceiling, with a deep crimson paint finishing the walls to the roof. A small elevated stage tucked into one corner, a cluster of tiny tables in another, with the mahogany bar dominating the back wall. A few tall tables and barstools were tucked behind the stage and that's where she spotted Logan nursing a beer and fending off a buxom waitress. Not that she blamed the woman. If she had DDs like that she'd be deliberately resting them on Logan's arm as she cleared the table too.

Unfortunately, her average Bs would barely make a dent in his biceps so she'd have to settle for wowing him with her scintillating wit.

That, and the fact he already knew she didn't wear underwear.

A tingling swept up the back of her neck at the memory of his hands on her, the slight rasp of his fingers against her bare ass…she'd been so turned on it wouldn't have taken much more rubbing against his crotch for her to come. It's why she'd had to take the edge off in the studio's bathroom. But it hadn't been enough, not nearly enough, and she'd asked to meet him because she wanted to have sex tonight.

She'd never done this before, brazenly approach a guy with the sole intention of screwing him. She didn't care that he was a direct adjunct to achieving her dream. She didn't care it might muddy their semi-working relationship. All she cared about was getting off with him, tonight.

As she wound her way towards him, her soles stuck to the navy-carpeted floor. Yeah, pubs like this were the same the world over. Despite regular cleaning, the spillage of many pints of beer over the years took its toll. She inhaled, savouring the smell of bar snacks predominantly featuring fried onions, and the yeasty aroma of beer.

Harry had been a stout man. She'd tried the stuff once and almost vomited. She'd stuck to G not that she had more than one drink and only after she turned seventeen. He didn't lecture. He supported her and nurtured her talent and was the father she never had.

Until he, too, betrayed her trust.

Harry died during her final year at music college, in the middle of her exams. She would've attended his funeral if he hadn't shattered their relationship a year earlier.

She'd never forget the day she discovered the one person she thought she could trust was just as duplicitous as the rest of the people in her life.

Harry had been her go-to person when her first love had gone pear-shaped. She'd cried buckets over Willem, had poured her heart out to Harry, confiding in him in a way she'd never felt comfortable doing with her emotionally repressed parents. Yet a scant month later he'd crapped all over her regardless.

He'd stolen more than her songs from her. He'd taken her ability to trust and turned her into a hardened cynic.

Everybody lied. It was a fact of life, a human frailty. She should've been immune to it, growing up with parents who stretched the truth whenever it suited them, with so-called friends at boarding school who only told her what she wanted to hear in order to suck up, with her only serious boyfriend Willem.

But she'd expected better of Harry. He'd been her idol, her friend, her confidante; and he'd screwed her over regardless.

Hope blinked several times to dispel the moisture from her eyes and continued traversing the pub. A few old men sat at the bar, locals probably, from the way they bantered with the barman. Logan caught sight of her and stood. He didn't wave. He didn't smile. He just stared at her, jaw set, gaze steady, and she felt that damn jolt again arrowing between her legs.

She'd made the right decision in coming here.

She needed one night.

One night of fast and furious sex to dispel this weird fascination for him.

Then she could return to furthering her goal in setting up the best indie record label this city had ever heard.

She strode towards him, intent on appearing poised, when the closer she got the more her confidence fled and her legs wobbled like just-set jelly. The empty sensation in her stomach intensified when she reached him and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face, like he could see into her horny soul.

"You wanted to see me?" He pulled out a bar stool for her and she slid onto it, relieved to have it holding her up rather than her traitorous legs.

"Yes, thanks for agreeing to meet me." She sounded so stilted, so formal, and his grin widened.

"Every time you open your mouth I feel like I'm being addressed by royalty," he said, leaning in to murmur in her ear. "Except when you kissed me, of course."

"You kissed me," she said, intent on reprimanding him but her voice came out breathy.

"So I did." He chuckled and straightened, and she immediately wished he'd return to whispering in her ear. "Got to say, Princess, you surprised me."

"The underwear thing?"

"Yeah. That." His eyes darkened to indigo as his jaw clenched. "Pretty fucking hot."

His husky tone rippled over her like a caress and she squeezed her thighs together. It did little for the ache only he could assuage.

Here went nothing. "That's actually why I wanted to see you."

His eyebrows shot up but he remained silent, meaning she'd have to spell it out.

"I…um…I want to finish what we started in the studio."

The words tumbled out in a rush in the end and she held her breath. Mortification tightened her stomach and a tingling swept up the back of her neck. Fantasising about riding him was one thing, articulating it another.

His lips curved with amusement—he knew exactly how uncomfortable she was—and she clamped down on the urge to bolt.

"You mean the quote?"

He was being deliberately obtuse. She could see it in his eyes, the teasing glint, and hear it in his taunting drawl.

"I've approved the quote and already wired a deposit so no, I don't mean the quote and you damn well know it," she said, ending on a huff. "Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah." He stepped in close again and trailed a fingertip down her forearm. "I want to hear you say it."

Her breath hitched when he reached her wrist and circled her pulse point, over and over, slow and concentric, before moving on to her palm and doing the same thing. Her skin prickled all over, like tiny zapping stings from touching one of those weird static electricity balls.

"Say it." He lifted her palm to his mouth and pressed an open-mouthed kissed to it. "You want me to fuck you."

She nodded and mimicked him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to fuck me," she said, and bit her bottom lip to stop from moaning as his tongue darted out to give her palm a little lick before he released her hand.

"Good, because I can't stop thinking about it too," he said, resuming his seat, too far away now she'd had him up close. "I like a woman who speaks her mind. Game playing gives me the shits."

She laughed at his typical blunt Aussie response. "So you're up for it?"

He shot a glance at his groin and she did the same, delighted to see that sizeable bulge. "I've been up since I felt you up."

Laughter burst from her lips again. Rare, for a guy to amuse her this much. She usually found the half-assed flirting guys used as foreplay rather tedious. With Logan, his words were getting her as hot as his touch. "So how do we do this?"

"The polite way would be for us to have a drink, talk a little, before going back to my place or yours."

"And the impolite way?"

He took a moment to answer, his smouldering gaze focussing on her mouth. "I take you out the back and fuck you up against one of those artistic alley walls you love so much."

Hope's mother had lectured her from a young age that gaping wasn't ladylike but she couldn't help it. No man had ever spoken to her like this and she liked it, a lot.

Apart from her habit of going commando, she'd never done anything remotely adventurous sexually. She liked the act itself and if she got off with the guy she considered it a bonus. Willem had been a considerate lover but bland. He'd never gone down on her but expected she blow him regularly. His selfishness should've alerted her to his asshole ways. And the six guys she'd screwed since had been vanilla all the way. None of them had wanted her so badly they did it vertically up against a wall, let alone in public.

Resisting the urge to squirm, she eyeballed him. "I'm not thirsty and I think we're all talked out."

His eyes widened in surprise, with a healthy dose of respect for her brazenness thrown in. "Are you saying—"

"Time for you to show me exactly how impolite you can be." She stood and grabbed his hand before she could second-guess this crazy impulse. Her heart jackhammered at the thought of having sex in public, a potent mix of excitement and panic at the thought of being discovered. But she couldn't walk away from him now, not when she craved him so badly she trembled.

He scrambled to his feet so fast they collided and she would've stumbled if he hadn't steadied her, bringing her flush against that gloriously muscular chest. She rested her palm against it, over his heart, the racing thud matching hers.

His eyes blazed a scorching indigo. "You strike me as a hearts and flowers kind of girl. You sure you want this?"

Her palm slid up to rest on his shoulder, an anchor for the out of control lust slamming through her. "I thank you for being a gentleman and giving me an out, but I've never been surer of anything. I want you. Inside me. Touching me. I want…it all."

Saying it made her want to writhe against him and she gritted her teeth against the urge to squirm.

Doubt clouded his eyes as he gave a little shake of his head. "You deserve satin sheets, not a graffiti covered wall at your back."

"I deserve…this." She slid her free hand beneath their bodies and cupped him, vindicated when he groaned.

No one told her what she wanted, not anymore. Taking back control of her life involved more than moving a million miles from home five years ago. Her independence stretched to knowing exactly what she wanted.

Right now, she wanted Logan.

After what seemed like an eternity he nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. "Let's go."