Succumb to Me (19 page)

Heart sick and drained, Winter was ready to
leave. She was tired, more so than she’d ever been in her life.
Declining her next dance offer, she turned to find her mother so
that they could go.

A shadow fell across her path, blocking her
passage. She looked up and saw it was Logan, his dark solemnity
seeming an outcast among the brilliance of his surroundings. In
that, he was like her—not part of the crowd, but separate. She’d
never recognized their common ground. Had he been seeking out a
kindred spirit so long ago when she’d spurned him?

She felt wretched for her actions, and vowed
to apologize to him. Just not now, when he looked at her with such
darkness in his eyes. Logan said nothing, just stared at her a
moment, his jaw muscle working. He took her arm and led her to the
dance floor. Winter didn’t even think to fight him—her mind had
gone blank at his audacity.

He swept her into the waltz before she could
deny him, and once they were on the floor, there was no chance to
escape without drawing undo attention to her struggles. Logan led
her across the floor, the strains of music and his body guiding her
despite her protests.

Determinedly, Winter held her body rigid. He
wouldn’t allow her to remain aloof, however. He wrapped a
possessive hand around her waist, moving her just a little too
close for propriety’s sake. Winter was indignant, but she couldn’t
risk openly fighting him.

He raked a heated glance down her body as
they began the dance, and she felt her skin flush in response to
his lengthy caress. Irritated, she favored him with a cold smile,
which he disregarded in typical male fashion.

“You look lovely in the gown I sent you. I’m
surprised you dared to wear it,” he said, his voice deep and husky,
teasing her nerves.

Winter had no interest in talking to him, and
so remained silent. She wanted to be through the dance as quickly
as possible. When he repeated his statement, she knew there was no
avoiding it. He was not a man who could be ignored, no matter how
hard she might try.

Sighing a resigned breath, she said, “Why
should I not? You made me your whore. Why should I not enjoy the
fruits of my labors?”

His hand tightened around her own. “And you
would never consent to being a man’s ... mistress? Your mother did
not say anything to you?”

“She did not. Are you suggesting I be your
whore?”

“I would never suggest something so
crude.”

“Nor would I accept such an arrangement,” she
said, determined to put the thought of pleasuring him to her
heart’s content out of her mind. A lady would never think of such
things, let alone seriously entertain them.

“You did before.” His hands tightened on
her.

“You are fortunate, my lord, that my hands
are occupied, for I would slap you otherwise.”

He tsked at her, his lips hitched in that
charming half smile that aggravated her so much ... and made her
heart flutter and her insides seem to melt into warm syrup. “Such
violence. I would much prefer keep your hands busy caressing my
body rather than my face.”

A wash of heat engulfed her at his words. He
was worse than the devil himself in his persuasions. “Please,
remember yourself.” She looked anxiously around to see if any of
the other dancers were close enough to have heard his remarks. No
one reacted as if they had, but on the sidelines, she caught a
glimpse of her mother, watching her worriedly.

“Ah, but you leave me no recourse but to
pursue you in this manner, my ice princess.”

“Stop calling me that. I am not your ... your
anything.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be?”

Would she? In her heart, she knew that she
would. But he was too different from her, and men like Logan
Cordell could never be happily bound to one woman. He’d wanted only
to use her, to humiliate her, to bend her to his will and break her
spirit. Didn’t he?

“No,” she said finally, resolute and hating
that circumstances couldn’t be different. She wanted very much to
believe what her heart told her, what her body begged to
understand, but she couldn’t. He had never shown any indication of
caring for her beyond the physical. Most of all, he’d never
proclaimed his love of her.

It occurred to her that he’d returned the
painting to her early, rather than risk her exposure to public
censure, but she dismissed it. She wouldn’t have been at risk to
start with if not for him.

His face hardened, the teasing light gone
from his eyes, his smile wiped away. The music of the waltz faded
away, and the dance ended. Logan bowed low over her hand and
returned her to her mother without another word, leaving her
staring after him like a moonstruck fool.

What had she done to change him so? She’d
thought him only teasing, not of serious intent.

Winter begged off the next dance and slipped
away from her mother while her back was turned.

She wanted to know Logan’s true feelings, and
she was determined to find out his plans if it killed her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Winter found him in the library, standing
before the mantel, a golden glow of fire light limning his
features. On a desk beside him stood an empty brandy glass, and she
knew from the slight smell of liquor that he’d been drinking. He
spared a cold glance at her over his shoulder at her entrance, then
turned back to stare into the fire, his stance rigid.

“Why have you followed me?” he asked, his
tone lifeless.

She moved into the room, closing the door
behind her before coming forth. “I had not thought our discussion
over.”

“There is nothing more to say. You made your
opinions quite ... clear.”

“Please, hear me. I have wanted to say this
overlong. I realize I was wrong, all those years ago. I am sorry
for causing you hurt. I should never have said what I did.”

“Indeed. Why would you believe I care
anything about the past?”

“I-I only assumed the ... reason behind your
motivations—”

He laughed, a harsh mirthless sound that
chilled her blood. “After everything, you still do not
understand.”

“I do,” she whispered in earnest. “Why do you
hate me so?” Her voice broke with emotion.

He faced her, face emotionless, and closed
the distance that separated them until they nearly touched. “I do
not hate you … nothing could be further from the truth. It is you
who hate me.”

He was so cold, so lifeless, her heart broke
to think she’d caused this reversal in him, that she might not ever
see his other side again. She shook her head. She’d been such a
fool to believe she could make him understand, to think that she
could ever know his mind. “You are mistaken. I see my own folly now
in following you. I should not have risked it. I have said my piece
and will go.”

She had thought she could reach him. Even
though it killed her inside, this must be their parting. Bitter as
it was, it was all she would get from him.

Logan grasped her shoulders, stopping
her. “Have you
no
feelings for
me? Not even the heat of hatred? I have given you all you desire
and more.”

Winter glared at him. How could he say
that? He’d given her nothing, not what she’d truly wanted—the only
thing she had ever wanted.... She would
never
beg him for his love. Her pride was too
great to stoop so low when it would affect no change. “What did you
expect? Nothing can come of this,
my
lord
. Nothing.”

His gaze burned into her, seeing her words
for the lies they were. “You are tethered to me, as I am you.
Whether you wish it or no.”

“There is naught between us,” she whispered,
hoping desperately that he could not tell that she lied.

He missed nothing, however. “There is ... and
I will prove it.”

He closed his arms around her, trapping her
in his embrace when she would have fled. She didn’t want to feel
this way. It would make it that much harder to let him go, as she
knew she must.

Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision
as he tipped her face up for his kiss. He paused, studying her with
an unfathomable expression, almost tender but angry at the same
time. She wanted to flee that look, before she crumbled.

“Please,” she whispered, turning her face
away, “don’t make me feel.”

“But I want you to.” Cupping her cheek in his
hand, he tilted her face so he could look at her. He kissed her
softly and brushed her tears away with his thumb. “Your tears are
precious to me. Never hide them.”

He bent then and touched his lips to hers, a
soft teasing kiss that stoked the fire warming in her breast. The
temptation was more than she could take, more than she could
resist.

This would be her last chance with him, to
capture a piece of him inside her ... and she would take it.

Logan continued kissing her, stroking his
callused palm over her collarbone, around the back of her neck, his
fingers smoothing over her skin. His other hand rested below her
breast, teasing her maddeningly with his nearness. He would be her
undoing. Winter didn’t want his tenderness—she wanted his fire to
burn her sensibility away, to make what she needed to do easier.
His gentleness would only make it that much harder to say
good-bye—and she had no choice but to leave him in the end. She had
nothing to offer him, no dowry, and he would never accept her as
his wife when he did not love her.

Winter began kissing him in earnest, rubbing
her body against him, reveling in the friction of their heat as
they touched. His shaft hardened against her belly, and she ran her
tongue over his closed lips in a daring move.

He pulled back, releasing her, confusion
marring his forehead as his black brows drew down. “What are you
doing?”

Winter hugged him to her, nestling her body
against the shell of his as she stroked her hands over the small of
his back.

“I want you. I’m cold, Logan ... so
cold.” She rubbed against him again, pleased to feel his rock
hardness and hear his ragged breathing as he strove to resist her.
“I
need
you, Logan. Please,”
she begged.

“You know not what you ask. I cannot.”

“You want to, as much as I do. Admit it.” He
was going to fight her on this? Where was this honor before? When
she’d been an innocent and untouched by such feelings?

His body was rigid, his shoulders tense, and
she knew he was waging a battle inside to resist taking what he’d
been offered and had so long pursued.

Winter reached for his waistcoat, confident
as she’d never been before, and tugged at it, the buttons tight and
resistant to her fumbling fingers. Frustrated when she could make
no headway, she took two handfuls and ripped it open with a strong
tug. Buttons popped off and scattered across the floor.

Logan groaned, her impulse driving him over
the edge, and he crushed her to him, the battle lost.

Winter thrilled at her victory. He kissed
her, desire and hunger roughening his caress. He ran his hands down
her back and cupped her buttocks, squeezing her cheeks as he pulled
her flush against his erection.

Her skirts muffled the sensation, and she
moaned in frustration, tugging at the binding cloth to lift it out
of her way.

Logan pushed her back, until her hips bumped
into the desk. He lifted her up until she sat on it, knocking the
empty brandy glass to the carpeted floor. He stepped between her
legs, pushing her skirt high up on her thighs.

Winter smiled devilishly and freed his hair
until it hung about his shoulders in a dark cloud. She loved how he
looked, so wild and dangerous, like he would eat her alive. She
pulled his shirt from his breeches, running her hands underneath to
feel the ridges of his stomach, around to the hard muscles of his
back.

She tilted her head back as Logan nibbled
down her jaw line, down the column of her arched throat. His tongue
played in the hollow at the base before he descended to the valley
of her breasts. Her gown impeded his progress, and he slipped his
hands around her back to the tiny buttons trapping her in the gown.
With a triumphant grunt, he ripped the back open and her gown fell
off her shoulders, her breasts spilling out the top in abundance as
the tiny buttons joined his own on the floor.

She didn’t care. Nothing mattered now but
this. She didn’t want to leave him—ever. He caught one breast in
his hand, pinching her nipple between his fingers, kneading her
flesh as he caressed the other with his mouth, tongue rolling over
her achingly hard nipple.

Winter gasped and dug her nails in his back
without conscious volition, urging him on. He took her nipple into
his mouth, sucking her hard as he played with her other breast,
then switched his attention to the other begging for his touch.
Winter shook her head, trembling. He was driving her crazy. She
wanted more. She wanted to feel him inside her, just one more
time.