Dissonance
Synopsis
The first
time Logan ever saw Charlotte, she was staring up into the rain.
Logan is
searching for direction when his new roommate makes that entrance. With a body
of pure sin, giant bright eyes, and the voice of an angel, she has his
attention immediately. But everything about Charlotte is also screaming
"hands off."
Charlotte is
hiding. She made a life of pretending, and she is happy to keep it that way.
Physically and emotionally scarred by the secrets of her past, the last thing
she needs is a gorgeous roommate asking all the wrong questions. Their mutual
attraction and devotion to music may be too strong to keep him at arms length,
though.
Can they find
a way to resolve the dissonance between them?
Excerpt
“Dance with
me,” he repeated.
I nearly
dropped when he asked. Even following him through the crowd, I was unsure if it
was a good idea to dance with someone who turned my heart into a jackhammer.
But, with my hand secured in his and determination radiating off of him, there
was no going back.
When we made
it onto the dance floor, the crowd had thickened and Eli and Alex were no
longer in our sights. A stranger bumped into me, sending me staggering backward
a few steps and tugging my hand free from Logan’s. He was on me again almost
instantaneously, pulling me to his chest to steady me. I looked up at him,
breathless from the proximity of our bodies, feeling his toned chest and
abdomen beneath his t-shirt. They were even more alluring pressed against me
than they had been that afternoon in the living room.
“You okay?”
he asked, leaning in close so that I could hear. Chills shot down my exposed
arms and neck from the warmth of his breath. I couldn’t form words. I could only
nod and try to keep my face from looking like a deer about to be struck by an
18-wheeler.
Pulling back
just enough so that he could see my face, he smiled. It was the same knowing
smile that I’d seen from him before, the one that seemed at once charming and
almost disgustingly cocky. If there was one thing I did not want, it was for
the arrogant man with his arms around me to know the effect he was having on
me. Silently coaching myself, I regulated my breathing and turned around. With
my back pressed against his front, I began to move to the pulsing rhythm
echoing through the club.
If Logan was
at all surprised by my sudden command of the situation, he managed to not let
on. His hands immediately went to my hips and pulled me tightly against him.
Even once I was pressed so close that I could feel every muscle of his toned
core move and flex behind me, the pressure of his fingertips against my
gyrating hips did not let up. He was holding me there, giving me no room to
pull myself away.
There was no
need to hold me. When Logan began to move, his pelvis rocking sensually against
my backside, I was so enthralled that I doubt I could have gotten my body to
pull away from his. I never would have expected Logan to be able to dance the
way he did, with a sensual power over me that was far more intoxicating than
the rum we’d been shooting.
Song after
song bled together but neither of us made any move to pull away. The thought
never even crossed my mind until the music slowed. The constant pressure of his
hands had never let up – although it had traveled around the curves of my hips
and waist – until that moment. When those deft hands slackened their grip, I
assumed he wanted to stop, so I started to pull away.
I was wrong.
He caught my
hand and turned me back to face him. I expected to see the same arrogantly
dashing smile, but instead his face looked serious and pleading. I allowed him
to pull me into his arms again. I placed my right hand against his chest, which
was overly warm, and I felt the fluttering heartbeat under my palm that matched
my own. He took my left hand up to his neck. The thin layer of sweat on his
skin made me want to run my tongue along his neck. The sensual response my body
had to him was wholly unnerving. I had never felt such raw desire for anyone.
Given my history, I could hardly ignore the way that Logan ignited my blood,
even if I wanted to.
This was no
middle school, arm length slow dance. Moving with the deep beat, Logan let his
body, which was touching mine from chest to knee, lead. His eyes were locked on
mine, his irises reflecting back the colors of the changing lights around us.
His hands moved from resting on my hips and slowly skimmed up my back. When his
rough fingertips touched the slightly damp skin of my arms, a shock ran through
me, just as it had when he touched my hand in the car. He continued a soft,
tickling path up the length of my arms, pushing my right hand up to encircle
his neck.
As distracted
as I was by his hypnotic touch, I did not realize that his hand had reached my
wrist until I felt his thumb graze the scar. I froze. I kept the raised, red
line hidden beneath a thick layer of make-up, but there was no disguising the
raised edge from his touch. I never let anyone get close to the spot, let alone
actually touch it as Logan had. How it slipped my mind, I didn’t know. It was
impossible to forget it now, as his fingers traced the line down the center of
my arm.
I couldn’t
look up at Logan, couldn’t stand to see the confusion, or pity, or judgment
that would have settled into his expression. I had to get away from him.
Yanking my arm from his hold, I muttered a feeble apology as I rushed away.
Author Bio
Drew
graduated from Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English. She was born and
raised in Chicago, IL, and still lives there with her boyfriend, a rabbit named
Lola, and a bird named... birdie.
Besides
writing, she loves reading, music, and crafting. She has a
slightly-less-than-healthy obession with all things Disney, and is an avid fan
of the Chicago Blackhawks.
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