The Billionaire's Intern - Part 3

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. What’s so difficult to understand about it?” he asked, his stomach so tight he could hardly breathe, he could hardly move. In one moment he’d said everything he’d barely let himself think, let alone voice. And it had all come pouring out and she—she had heard it all.

What was it about this woman that made him open his veins and bleed for her to see? She had unleashed something in him and he had no idea how to cage it back up.

It was everything. His desire, his fear, his regret, his rage. She had found a weakness in him. In his control. Four years of blocking it all out. Four years of survival, and Addison was reawakening pieces of himself he’d thought were dead.

She made him feel.

And she made him honest. With her and with himself and he wished to God it would stop.

He needed space. He needed to get away from the look in her eyes. The one that mirrored his own feelings. The one that was afraid that, at his heart, he was nothing more than a murderer.

No, less than that. An animal, who had done nothing more than ensure his own survival, wrapped in the guise of helping someone end their suffering. A man who knew nothing more than base instinct.

A man who wasn’t a man.

It was why he hadn’t touched a woman in four years. Because the last time, he had ended the woman’s life. And tonight, the first time, the firsttime, he’d touched someone since his return…and it had been to wrap his hands around her throat.

He couldn’t imagine giving a woman pleasure with his hands after what he’d done with them. He didn’t even deserve the fantasy.

And yet…and yet Addison made him want. Made him feel. The good, the bad. Like a limb with hypothermia being warmed up, his feelings were starting to come back. To hurt, and burn and make him wish he’d just cut them off.

“You know what?” she said, shoving the sleeves of his robe up to her elbows. “I’m not going to beg you to stay here and deal with you and all your…your…life. It’s too hard anyway. And I have my own things to deal with. I really, really don’t need this, Logan,” she said, and he could see her pain, written all over her face. Knew this was her rejecting him to make his rejection sting less. “I have enough of my own. So I’m not exactly looking to add yours to the pile. I’ll be in the office tomorrow to work. And we don’t have to talk again.”

“You going to make this about you now, little girl?” he asked, rage roaring through him. Because it was about her. If not for her he never would have said anything. He never would have had to hear himself say it all out loud. Never would have had to finish the thoughts that had always circled his mind, like vultures, waiting for a vulnerable moment when they could sweep in and tear his flesh from his bones.

“Tell me more about all the tortured years you spent in your mansion, sweet little Addison Treffen, living off Daddy’s money,” he spat, knowing he was being unfair. Knowing he was taking things out on her because he was ashamed. Because he burned with that shame. Because he wanted her to leave, not just his room, but his hotel so that he wouldn’t have to look in the eyes of the one person who knew his secret. Who knew just what he was.

“All right, congratulations,” she said. “You win, Logan Black. Spend your life alone. Spend it in this hotel. See if I care.”

“Are you leaving?” he asked, his voice hoarse, everything in him wanting to tell her to stay. While simultaneously wanting to drive her away.

There was no name for what he was. Fucked up, maybe, but that was it.

Yeah, that about summed it up.

“It’s what you want me to do.”

“I told you it wouldn’t fix it,” he said. “Nothing can fix this. Confiding in you was hardly going to change that.”

She met his eyes for one long moment, and she didn’t bother to hide the hurt. Oh, there was anger, lots of it. But beneath that, he could see her pain. And he hated himself a little bit.

But that was why he had to send her away now. It was why he had to stop this thing—whatever it was—before it turned into more. Before he started wanting more, when he knew damn well that was impossible.

Before he wanted to touch her again. Strip off all their clothes, all his control, and find freedom. With her. In her.

Then she lowered her head, and he found he wanted to take her chin in his hand, force her to look at him again. That he wanted to fork his fingers through her hair and tug hard, angle her head backward.

Feel her pulse. Strong. Steady.

To make sure his touch hadn’t damaged that in some way. Hadn’t damaged her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t deserve the luxury.

And then she turned and walked out of the bedroom, out of the suite.

He could only assume she would walk out of the hotel, and out of his life too.

And he should be grateful.

Instead he turned around and drew his fist back and punched the wall, the plaster biting hard into his knuckles, sending blood running down his arm.

And he welcomed it. That made sense at least. Pain. Pain he could understand. Good feelings were for better men.

Pain was all he had.

Chapter Eleven

Logan didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, and by the time he walked into his office he was in a terrible frame of mind. That wasn’t remarkable in and of itself.

He was in a foul mood, but he was also determined.

When he’d tried to get back to sleep last night, it wasn’t Kelly’s ghost that had haunted him. No, that honor had belonged to the specter of Addison Treffen.

To the memory of how soft she had been beneath his fingers. The memory of how she’d touched him in the shower. How tender she had been. The way she’d cared for him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that.

And he didn’t deserve to lust after her, given the nature of the touching. The fact that she’d practically been bathing him as if he were a mental patient, after he’d nearly… He had hurt her. And whether it had been intentional or not didn’t change the fact that it happened.

Didn’t change the fact that he had no right to lust after her. Or to say what he was about to say.

Knowing he didn’t have the right didn’t change what he was going to do. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, if his time on the island had taught them anything, it was that he was capable of doing a whole host of things most men would never dream of.

That reality haunted his dreams. And there was no altering it. All things considered, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t use it to his advantage.

He’d made a decision last night. Lying there, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, with an erection so hard it ached, and no relief on the horizon. There was no redemption for him. But there was Addison. And he wanted her, whether he should or not.

And he was determined to have her.

“Good afternoon, Addison. Sleep well?”

Addison looked up from her position at the desk, one eyebrow raised, the corners of her lush lips turned down. “Go to hell, Logan.”

“Been there, got the commemorative parasite. Thankfully it was curable.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you jovial? And joking about tapeworms? This is unlike you. And particularly given last night…”

“I made a decision.”

“I hope it has something to do with the hardware for the brownstones. Because Steve has been calling me nonstop about it.”