All Chapters of Rejected By The Billionaire: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I'm sprawled out on the bed like a flower, feeling my chest rise and fall as I lock eyes with Logan's hungry gaze. His pupils are dilated, taking over the stormy blue color in his eyes. His lips part to form a confident smirk, and I watch him throw off his t-shirt, revealing a shredded chest. Dear lord—I didn't know men like this existed outside of fashion magazines for underwear. I can hardly breathe from expectation. Logan sinks onto the bedsheets on all fours, making the mattress creak underneath his weight. I lie back, gazing up at him and his bulging muscles, my breath trapped inside my chest—I'm afraid of where this will lead, but also soaking wet for this gorgeous man. Large hands grip around my waist, violently pulling down my jeans until only my wet panties are left. Logan then dips down with a sharp intake of breath, kissing my inner thighs—his lips are so warm and electric I swear I momentarily see heaven's doors. "You smell like flowers an

Logan I'm dragging my fingers through my hair for the billionth time, hoping the woman in front of me will disappear when I open my eyes—I'm not that lucky. Melodie is there, glaring at me with pouting lips and fist clenched so hard she could extract blood with her nails. "I've changed my mind!" Melodie announces. "We are no longer free to sleep with whoever we want!" "Mmm," I sigh. "What happened to Julian and Max? And that doctor, what was his name, Victor?" Melodie's face crumples up in sadness. "I only slept with them because..." She sniffles—here comes the salty crocodile tears. Her mouth opens up again, ready to give me a guilt trip. "I wanted your attention, Logan! You never even look at me!" "Our marriage was supposed to be business only. You agreed to there being no feelings involved." "That was before I fell in love with you!" She says it like she has practiced that line in front of the mirror. I resist the urge to sc

Logan Past "Will you sit still?!" Ethan growls at me. He is holding a tissue dipped with alcohol. Bastard already cleaned the cut on my chin with it, and it stung like a motherfucker. I'm not about to listen to him and let him burn my face off. "Stop moving around, Logan! Please!" With forced peacefulness, I sit entirely still in one booth over at Mcdonald's restaurant. I'm grumpy about this entire situation. My fries are probably already cold, but Ethan is determined to clean my face. I fought Henry and won against the bloke, but not without something that looks like it could turn into a black eye tomorrow and some minor cuts on my face. Beating him was worth it, though. "Ouch! That stings!" I close my eyes, shuddering at the burning sensation on my face. This pain is worse than the one Henry gave me. "Do it quicker!" Ethan laughs. "You're such a baby! Sit still and let me work!" I crack an eye open. Ethan is practically in my

Logan Past I'm munching on these Cheetos Ethan brought with him in front of a fire, licking my fingers and pouring more into my mouth. At first, I laughed at him for bringing these snacks with him, but damn, they are so fucking delicious. I might eat the entire bag. "I can't believe that I forgot to bring hotdogs!" Ethan is scavenging his bag, and then he growls in frustration. He sounds like a tiny, angry animal. Not scary at all. "Did you bring any food?" "Yup." Ethan doesn't express amusement. "Where is your bag?" "I don't know," I reply, shrugging. A shit-eating grin plays over my lips. "Probably in the car." "Well," Ethan is rolling his fingers, wanting me to get up from the comfortable seat that I would only leave in his dreams. "Logan, could you please get some food from your car?" "Not right now." A lazy yawn erupts from somewhere deep in my gut. I circle my hand over my stomach, hoping it will show how content

I hate flying more than anything in the world, so when Harper offered me hash brownies, I filled my entire mouth. Now I'm wobbly on my legs and determining everything as hilarious, which is way better than biting my nails at the mere prospect of flying. We are at a restaurant past the gates, about to eat and fill our bellies before boarding our plane. Harper told me it's more pleasant not flying on an empty stomach. I hope she is right. "I'm going to go for their burger," Harper mumbles from behind her menu, tapping her colorful nails against the brochure. "Or maybe I should for a salad? We will drink a lot of calories during this trip, and I should think about my form. My wife would hate me if I returned both tanned and entirely out of shape after we have agreed on training again." Smiling, I rock back and forth in my seat, giggling when I burp. I'm not feeling too well—eating hash brownies for the first time at an airport wasn't the brightest idea.