He flexed his hips, pressing in just a bit deeper, making her gasp. Making her need even more.

“I will, Logan,” she gasped. “Whatever you want.”

He hugged her tighter. “Thank you for your trust. Spread your legs a bit wider. Perfect.”

Suddenly, something cool and slick probed at the entrance to her pussy, then forged inside, up, up, up, filling her until she thought she’d burst. Then a buzzing sounded between them—and massaged every nerve lining the walls of her pussy.

With Logan in her ass, her sex had less space to accommodate the vibrator, and Tara felt every twitch of both toy and man. He held the vibrator deep inside her, its flared tip against her cervix, the outer wings stroking across her swollen clit, as he slowly shoved deep inside her rectum in a slow glide that had her holding her breath.

The air smelled of her arousal. Her desperate moans began to fill the air as he awakened every sensation in her pussy, her ass, and those tingles tightened into an ache that sent her thrusting back against him in a silent plea for more.

Never had she felt anything so consuming. When she fell off this edge of need, it would be into a chasm of pleasure unlike any other because it involved her whole body, her whole heart. And the man she loved would go with her, well pleased with the knowledge that she would do anything with or for him because she trusted him completely.

Behind her, sweat broke out across his chest, mixed with the fine sheen of perspiration slicking her back. Again he plunged into her, driving harder. Urgency tightened his fingertips, which held her still and at his mercy while he fucked her with that vibrator and his thick, unrelenting cock.

Blood rushed into her clit and the nerves around her rosette—everywhere he touched. The heartbeat surpassed her hard breathing in her head until all she could hear was the roar of her blood rushing. The sensations tightened, began to converge. Tara sobbed. Logan was going to overwhelm her, and she welcomed the chance to completely surrender. He would know then how totally she belonged to him and always would.

“Your back is flushing rosy,” he panted. “Your ass is so tight on me, baby. You ready to come?”

“Yes!” She barely managed to find the breath to sob out.

He shoved the vibrator in another quarter inch and pulled it right against the front wall of her pussy, so it pulsated against that sensitive spot behind her clit, even as the exterior wings feathered over the screaming little bud.

“Take me!” he shouted and plunged into her over and over as fast and deep as he could.

Sensations multiplied, unrelenting. Every ache he created in her pussy, clit, and ass all united to create one huge supernova that had her screaming and fisting the sheets, crying his name, as her body burst with the most white-hot, sublime pleasure she’d ever experienced.

His breath heavy in her ear, he began to moan, short, frantic sounds as he pounded inside her with one long stroke after another. Then he loosed a long shout so anguished, it was as if pleasure had ripped it from his soul.

“Cherry!”

Tara took him, bucked with him. Still not finished with her first orgasm, it stretched into another as she felt the splash of his hot release inside her.

As their movements settled, stilled, he pulled the vibrator from her pussy and turned it off. The only sound in the room now was their harsh breathing as he collapsed to the bed on top of her, still buried deep in her ass.

“You are incredible,” he whispered.

She turned her head, and he kissed her temple, her cheek as she murmured, “Hey, you stole my line.”

He palmed her head gently. “I meant everything I said. I love you. I want to marry you.”

Their lovemaking had suffused her with an inner glow already, but it brightened even more at his words. “I meant what I said. I love you, too. I will marry you.” She smiled. “Let’s get this job finished and get on with our lives.”

GET on with our lives.

That handful of words doused Logan with a bucket of water, robbing him of the most vivid euphoria he’d ever experienced in Tara’s arms. Every muscle had been relaxed, his mind cleared of all but happiness and the love that would fill their tomorrows. The getting on with this job part of her speech didn’t disturb him. He looked forward to that. Getting on with their lives even more so.

But Adam Sterling stood between them. Again.

Fuck!

His mind jolting back online, he rose, padded to the bathroom, and started the shower. What the hell was he going to do? Thoughts chased each other in his head. Tell Tara his suspicions about Adam being his mother’s killer because he’d promised he’d keep no more secrets from her? Or wait to tell her until he had something more than circumstantial evidence and a gut feeling? He’d like to . . . but once they made their way off this island, Adam would be waiting. If the fucker had in fact killed Amanda and threatened his own stepdaughter multiple times, then Logan couldn’t risk Tara being alone with him ever again.

Suddenly, he felt a soft hand on her shoulder. “You’re already thinking pretty hard.”

Tara was supposed to be focused on the mission now. This would only mess with her head. And cause a potential rift between them just as they were truly connecting. But he’d lost her once because he hadn’t come clean. History could have easily repeated itself today, if she hadn’t been forgiving. Logan knew better than to risk it a third time.

The warm smile that curled her lips fell. “Something’s really bothering you. What’s wrong?”

“Get in, Cherry.” He helped her into the shower, avoiding her concerned expression as he climbed in after her.

Closing his eyes, he took hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers reverently. He never wanted Tara to doubt his love for her again. Whatever he said, he did so out of caution and devotion . . . though she might not see it that way.

She pulled away. “Logan, you’re scaring me.”

He finally looked at her. “I want you to listen to me with an open mind because I know what I’m about to say will be hard for you to hear. Remember that I would never intentionally hurt you again.”

Apprehension skittered across her face. “O-Okay.”

Logan clutched her against him, praying that she understood his good intentions and that this wasn’t the last time he held her. “Your stepfather killed my mother.”

Chapter Eighteen

TARA stared at Logan, her brain replaying his words over and over. They simply wouldn’t compute. He had to be wrong. “No. That’s not—no.”

She tried to thrash out of his embrace. The water from the hot shower should have made her skin slick enough to slip away.

Logan held tight. “Cherry, listen to me. That necklace you’re wearing was my mother’s.”

“You’re wrong. Adam gave it to me.”

“You said earlier that you found it.”

“I did, in his car, but he said he’d bought it for me.”

With a shake of his head, Logan gripped her tighter. “Listen. He kept the necklace as a trophy from his kill. And you found it, so he told you he’d bought it for you to ward off suspicions. But I know that necklace. My father had given it to my mother in a last-ditch attempt to tell her that he cared. She must have been wearing it when Adam killed her, since the police found a thin abrasion around her neck. The medical examiner said it was consistent with something thin and metallic being ripped from her neck. This necklace was the only item missing from the crime scene.”

Tara flinched as she pictured Logan’s mother dead—and that he’d been the one to find her. “That doesn’t prove my stepfather took it. I—if your dad bought it for your mom around that time, m-maybe my stepdad also bought one. If they were for sale at the mall or something—”

With a big hand, he grabbed hold of her pendant and turned it over. “This dent on the back, right here.” He pointed. “Did you ever notice it?”

How could he know about that? “Yeah, after I’d been wearing it for a while. I always assumed that I’d accidentally slammed it in my jewelry box or set something on it.”

Logan clutched it in his fist. “My sister’s pet parrot bit it. I remember Mom crying when she realized the stupid bird had damaged the gold.”

Stomach plummeting to her knees, Tara listened as the steamy water pelted her back in a hard sting. His accusations were even more merciless. Denial clawed down to her bones. “That doesn’t mean it’s the exact same dent. Because it’s gold, it’s somewhat f-fragile and . . .”

With a growl, he grabbed her shoulders. “I know this is hard to accept, but I’m telling the truth. My mother’s necklace disappeared at nearly the same time you found one exactly like it, with the exact same damage. If your stepfather killed my mother, then he threatened to kill you, too.”

“He would never!” Tara wrenched away. “That man took me in when he didn’t have to. He raised me from the time I was twelve. He cared for me even before my mother died. I can’t believe he’d—” She shook her head. “No.”

“Threaten to kill you? If you wearing that necklace around me could implicate him as a killer and send him to prison from firstdegree murder for twenty to life, hell yeah, he’d threaten you. Even before he killed my mother, he tried every way possible to separate us without success. But once you’d found that, he had to step up his game to keep me from ever seeing it, Cherry. Or I would have known. Even if he’d gotten rid of that necklace, he couldn’t have me around in case some other tell gave him away.”

Tara stared, blinked. She heard the words, heard the logic . . . but just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that Adam had killed anyone in cold blood or threatened to do the same to her. “I—it just . . .”

“I know it’s hard to take in, but I’m not making this up.” He slammed a fist into the shower’s tile wall. “I’m almost positive that the son of a bitch killed my mother. We all suspected that she’d been seeing someone. Think back. Was Adam dating then?”

Frowning, she searched her memory, but the shock made her hazy. “I don’t know. Adam dated quietly. I never paid attention.”

“Maybe their relationship went sour.”

“Adam had dated before and ended relationships amicably.”

“Okay, so something else went wrong. But he killed her; I’d bet my god damn life on that.”

Tara wrapped her arms around herself and trembled under the hot spray. “Why are you dumping this . . . theory on me now?”

He pressed tight lips together. “I just figured it out today, and you don’t want me keeping secrets from you.”

She blinked, trying to absorb all the shock. “You were staring at my necklace.”

He nodded and caressed her hair, fastened his hand around her neck. “Cherry, when this mission is over, I can’t risk having you near Adam. He knows you’ve been with me. The son of a bitch may make good on his threat to kill you. He won’t risk me figuring out that he killed my mother.”

God, his words were pressing in on her like a vise. She covered her face with her hands, still trying to process his accusation. He slung everything at her so damn fast. “Logan . . .”

“Don’t start with that apologetic tone, Tara, like you’re going to blow me off. I’m asking for your trust, as your fiancé. As your Dom. I would never want to see you hurt.”

“I know you’re not trying to be malicious.” She shook her head. “You believe what you’re saying. But . . .”

Logan looked like he was grasping for patience. “Promise me this: don’t put yourself in the position to be alone with him again until I can get this taken care of.”

Taken care of? As in . . . “You’re going to try to have him put away?”

“If he committed the crime, and I can prove it, yeah. He killed a woman who was barely forty and left three kids without a mother. Shouldn’t he pay?”

Tara blinked. If what Logan said was true, yes. “Adam is former FBI. One of the good guys. He’s not a killer.”

Frustration crested over his features as he backed away. “We’ll wait and see.”

AS soon as they stepped from the shower, Logan was relieved to hear the sat phone chirping. At least it would give them both something else to focus on. He pressed down his disappointment. Her reluctance to believe him was a blade in his heart. All the trust he’d been trying to build with her, where the fuck was that? Yes, he was asking for a lot, but she could at least try to believe him?

Tara charged over to the phone. “Jacobs.”

Once she’d given her security code, Logan could hear the male voice muffled on the other end. In between, she said a lot of “yes, sir” and finally, “we’ll get on that.”

Within three minutes, she pressed the button to end the call, then heaved a huge sigh. “Some of the data has been processed. Still no identity on the mysterious owner of Fantasy Key. In all the files, he’s simply referred to as ‘Sire.’ The analysts were able to find coded references on Kantor’s computer about the slave auctions. The next one is set for Thursday at eleven p.m. The ‘product’ is being held in the Pit.”