With lust. Sympathy. Concern.
But mostly lust.
Jesus, each small smile from her was so precious that it left him in a vortex of conflicting emotion. And when she laughed—a very rare occurrence—it reduced him to a basic male animal, an animal who wanted to make a permanent impression on her in the time-honored way of men.
But she’d ruled that out. Though he knew she wanted him, too, she continued to draw back anytime things got too heated. That put him back at square one, having to cajole his way into her narrow social calendar all over again.
Now that he knew part of her background, it only amplified his growing feelings for her. God, but she’d had it rough, and her brother hadn’t helped. As a kid, she hadn’t wanted foster care. But she hadn’t been mature enough to decide what would be best for her.
And really…neither had Rowdy. Eighteen. Damn. That was so young to have so much responsibility. Logan could understand how easy it’d be to get off the straight and narrow. At eighteen, he’d had the world by the ass. Parents who spoiled both him and Dash. Independence given to him by indulgent parents. He’d wanted for nothing, certainly not security, comfort, support.
Or love.
Rowdy and Pepper had had none of that. Ever. As children, they’d been neglected by disinterested parents. As very young adults, they’d been threatened by an unknown system. He hated to admit it, but Logan could sympathize with Rowdy. He’d made tough decisions.
But he shouldn’t have dragged Pepper into that atmosphere. Though Reese had tried, he hadn’t found any clearer photos of Pepper. Nothing in color. Nothing of her body.
Not that it mattered. He couldn’t be more obsessed.
Thanks to the paper-thin walls, Logan needed no more than a handheld audio listening device to keep track of her routine. Whenever he wasn’t with her, he could still hear her moving around, occasionally listening to the radio or television, showering or doing dishes.
Or talking with her brother.
Many times, after he left her, she ran on her treadmill.
Endlessly.
She probably tried working off the same sexual tension that plagued him. He could have told her not to bother. Nothing but the real deal would do.
They could be so good together if she’d trust him a little, if she’d…but then again, she had good reason not to trust him.
Logan rubbed his face. Everything was far more complicated than he’d expected—because he couldn’t stay detached. He couldn’t stay cold and indifferent to Pepper, because she wasn’t cold or indifferent. Warm, funny, fickle and so damn sexy…yeah, he hadn’t expected that. Not from the grainy little black-and-white photos of her. Not when she hid all that fire behind concealing clothes and a reserved persona.
Her physical appeal wasn’t out there and in your face.
It was subtle, something that came from her as a woman, her gentle nature and wounded soul. It was far more potent than a stacked body could ever be.
When the rattle of her water pipes quieted, Logan paced closer to the adjoining wall.
She’d finished her shower.
Closing his eyes, he tried to picture her naked…but came up with an incomplete image. She hid so much from him, every inch of skin from her collarbone to her elbows, her waist to her ankles.
And still, somehow, she turned him on until he almost couldn’t take it. Her outfits were so well suited to disguising her figure that most times he strained his eyes trying to figure out the curves of her body.
Frustration mixed with imagination kept him from sleeping at night, leaving him mostly antsy.
She seemed so starved for company, his company, that it broke his cynical heart and nearly corrupted his convictions.
If he only wanted sex, he could have it.
But he wanted her.
Naked, lights on, hair loose and that special little smile in place…
“Shit.” On edge, he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, laughing at himself. Any more of that and he’d be prowling his apartment with a hard-on. He had to work it out with her, and soon.
He’d tried things her way. Too many days of sensual torture hadn’t gotten him the desired outcome. Tonight he’d press her, emotionally and physically. Because of his end goal, he’d feel like a bastard, but he’d do it anyway. If it blew his cover, then he’d suffer the consequences, but he had to—
The ringing of her cell phone stilled his turbulent thoughts.
He knew it was her damned brother keeping tabs on her. Calls from Rowdy Yates were the main reason Logan had the handheld audio device; bugging her apartment would have been too risky.
Listening through the thin walls was safer.
Retrieving the audio device from beneath a desk drawer, he put in the earbuds and pressed the receiver to the wall. He missed the first few words of Pepper’s greeting, but he caught her distress right away.
Every call from her brother seemed to cause her grief.
“What if he catches you?” she asked with worry, and then, “It’s entirely possible. Even if I try to keep him here…well, no.”
Logan frowned. What if who caught him? He adjusted the volume and waited.
“Rowdy, listen to me, please.” She lowered her voice but not enough. “It’s too dangerous. Of course I trust you, but if Logan catches you in his apartment, he’ll probably call the police. Then what will we do?”
Rage coalesced, crowding out guilt, pity—annihilating every other emotion. Rowdy Yates planned to break into his apartment.
Bingo, you bastard. I have you now.