Irreplaceable

Chapter One

Sweet Dreams No More

In a haze of raw, undeniable passion, his strong hands gripped the backs of my thighs, torturously working their way to my ass, where his skillful fingers kneaded and teased me into surrendering to his every demand. His breath was thick and minty, with a hint of bourbon, and left me craving more. Goose bumps flared over my blazing skin. The weather outside was a numbing twenty degrees, yet I was heated from the inside out.

A giggle escaped my lips when he lifted me from the ground, my legs finding their way around his waist as his seductive growl kissed my soul. My hands were relentless, snaking under his shirt and over the toned muscles of his back. My eyelids fluttered wildly in a vain attempt to hold his gaze. The harder I fought to watch his every move, the deeper I lost myself in our moment of hunger.

Everything inside me screamed for more and I ached, truly pained with anticipation. Grinding myself against his hard body, I rolled my hips, demanding every part of him. The cool brick wall dug into my back, the thick coat I wore seconds earlier now lying abandoned on the blacktop beside us.

A lurid groan spilled from my swollen lips when his hands dug into my hair, his lips nibbling the corner of mine, the searing passion between us uncontrollable. Forsaking all logical thought, I submitted to his reckless frenzy, my lips quivering as his hand slid down the front of my dress. He tore it open in one swift move, leaving me bare and at his will.

“I need you, Cassandra.”

Oh God, I needed him. I burned for his touch. It was the closest to serenity I’d ever felt, and I never wanted to lose it. His lips ravaged mine, taking my breath and eliciting panting when they began their descent down my jaw. His tongue ignited a trail straight to my breasts, which were on full display for his eyes only. The scruff of his jaw scratched across my skin, further awakening every hidden emotion and greedy desire I possessed.

The world around us ceased to exist. He and I were all that mattered—all I felt, saw, and needed. Lost in the strength of his grip and power of his lust, I remained at his mercy, fisting his short waves of hair as he dropped to his knee.

My head fell back, savoring his tongue working its magic down my stomach. A delicious purr spilled from my open mouth, expressing everything my brain couldn’t process into words. I wanted more. I wanted it all, but in an instant, the rough, needy clutch of his fingers and moistness of his mouth were gone; the indescribable emotions he’d awoken in me were no more.

Dazed, I whipped my head back and forth, desperately searching the darkness that now engulfed me.

“Logan?”

Panic set in, filling my veins with fear-induced adrenaline. I reached down for the pieces of my tattered dress, the frosty air now stinging my clammy skin in his absence, only to find they were gone as well. There I stood, naked and vulnerable, alone in the night.

“Logan, please…don’t leave me.”

I stumbled forward, struggling to adjust my sight to see anything other than black. My hands smacked into another wall, and it hit me.

The alley. I was in the alley.

The air was pulled from my lungs, legs quaking as the harsh words he’d spoken replayed through me.

“I want to fuck you. Here and now. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Logan!” My hands shielded my ears, shaking my head to make it go away. Make it stop. He wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t treat me like another whore.

“Come back! Don’t leave me.” My words dripped into a slurred sob as tears sprung from my eyes, distorting my vision further.

Where was he? Why would he leave me like this? He wouldn’t—not me. He cared about me. He had to be there…somewhere.

“Logan, please!” I cried out, a cracked whimper pouring from my soul as I fell to my knees, helpless, terrified, and completely alone. Something in my heaving chest broke.

My heart. It had to be.

With my hands covering my face, palms pooling with salty tears, my ears rang with a buzzing horn. I looked up, squinting into the distance.

There was a light ahead. Someone was coming back for me.

Logan.

It had to be Logan. None of it was real. He would never say those things. Never toss me aside.

The light drew closer, a blinding ray suddenly racing toward me.

I lifted my trembling hands over my eyes, tilting my head, anxious to make out the approaching figure. It was so bright, too intense, and glaring into the wetness of my eyes. I couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, until the car horn blared through the air. Suddenly it was on me, crashing, barreling my body into nothing until all I felt was pain as the unknown consumed me.

I jerked up, fighting to catch my breath.

The familiar dry air of the hospital room eased me back onto the thin pillows on the small bed. It was all a dream—a horrible nightmare I could never escape. Five long days trapped in tiny rooms, and every night I closed my eyes and found him waiting for me. Each kiss took away the painful memory of that night, slowly erasing it until I was lost in his arms in that dark alley. His touch and longing were all I felt, all I lived for there. But it wasn’t real.

Nothing was real anymore—not the need to feel him, my body entangled with his, lost in each other. I wanted that while I was there, wanted him: Logan.

But then it was gone. The haunting memory of the accident—the fear, the cold, the cruel lingering pain—woke me and hurled me back to reality every time. He didn’t want me like I did him. It was all in my head, exactly as it had been with Mark, yet I was too blinded by their charm to realize it.

“Hi honey. You awake?”

Of course I was awake. How could I sleep knowing what awaited me in my dreams?

I stared at the wall, facing away, but gave a slight nod. From my bed, I was unable to see out the tall windows, but I’d counted every single shape on the dull drapes over the last three days. I spent every waking moment too ashamed to cry. I did it to myself, and now I was enduring the consequences: anger, pain, hurt, betrayal, and loss. So many emotions consumed me, but only once did I shed tears for him.

It was the day I first awoke in ICU, a few days earlier—the day I opened my eyes and found him there, so broken and tortured. He had no right to be the one in agony, to beg me to forget. How could I?

I shook my head, unable to inhale a soothing breath for fear of the reckoning my bruised ribs would set upon me if I did. I never wanted to relive the heartbreak and devastation of that night again.

“I talked to your doctor, and he said you’re doing great. The cut on your leg is healing, and it doesn’t look like you’ll need to stay past Friday.”

The cut? I winced at her euphemism for the deep gash running down my thigh that ripped into my muscles and nearly damaged my nerves. Luck, the doctors had told me.

Funny. I didn’t feel very lucky.

“Honey, did you hear me? You’ll be going home in three days.”

“Great.” My voice wasn’t my own. It was hoarse, and laced with numbness.

The patter of my mother’s feet bustling around the room as she hummed a lullaby from my childhood helped keep my mind from spiraling into the ocean of melancholy I’d been drowning in the last few days. She was tidying up the room, even though it was no different from how it looked the previous day.

At least, not other than the newest flowers that arrived.

“I see you got more flowers delivered. They’re gorgeous. Logan, I’m guessing?”