"What?" This," I said, waving my hand at the small crowd of kids and adults filling the rink. "What the hell am I doing here?"My subconscious supplied...its own answer. My ex-husbands had been right about one thing regarding me; I was a hedonist. I had a weakness for doing things that brought me pleasure, even when it hurt others. Or me. I liked to luxuriate in pleasure and comfort.Sex had always been a part of that. So was the cocaine. Perhaps especially the cocaine. Hard knocks had finally. ..He stood abruptly and jabbed a finger at her. "Enough! I do not fuck prisoners of war, and I'm not going to give you the chance to cut my throat, so just fucking stop it."A long moment passed in silence. Slowly, without ever breaking eye contact, she closed her legs. Logan sat back down once the hammering of his heart eased off a bit, and his blood pressure dropped out of heart attack range. Her naked leg lay against his dirty pant leg. If she noticed, she gave no indication. Neither did she. More

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