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I skim my fingernails down his neck, loving the warm feel of his skin, the rough evening stubble against his jawline. Logan’s muscles tighten in response and the ends of my mouth turn up. That’s right. I’m the one causing his body to respond. I’m the one making Logan think only of me.
I’ve done what I’ve wanted. I’ve kissed the boy, and as my fingers dawdle across his biceps in the search for his chest to push him away, Logan weaves his arm around my waist and we spin.
Me against the wall, his body sweetly crushing mine, and when I shift I suck in a breath with the thrilling sensation of the friction created. He stares down at me with the most exhilarating eyes that are so dark they’re practically black. We’re both breathing hard, we’re both moments from an explosion.
“You don’t play fair,” I say a lot more breathlessly than I would have preferred.
“I’m playing by the same rule book you are.”
I could kiss that pretentious, arrogant expression off his face. “I don’t play by rules.”
“I know.” Logan sweeps his thumb over my cheek and the caress is too sweet. Too heartbreakingly emotional and that’s not what I’m going for, but when he presses his body into mine, specifically his hips, my entire body rocks with the intense rush.
“We really doing this, Abby?” he whispers.
I bite my bottom lip and he watches. Lust smolders between us. I just meant to kiss him, and I’ve reached my goal. I should inch him back, give him a wink, and blow a kiss as I walk away, but I’m excellent at selfish. “At least for a few more minutes.”
“Fine, but we’re not doing it here.”
Logan
“Seriously, I didn’t know you played guitar.” Abby sits on the table next to me, watching as I wind up my cord that led to the amp. Her legs are crossed and she leans back on her hands and that motion causes her to be mouthwatering in the dancing spotlight. “Or any musical instruments.”
I wind the cord up faster. The moment I’m packed, I’m driving her to the brook in Bullitt County, grabbing a sleeping bag, hopping into the bed of my truck with Abby and we’re picking up where we left off.
“You plan on joining their band?”
I glance at Abby out of the corner of my eye and say nothing. Irritated with my silence, her expression darkens and she tries again. “Why did you play tonight? Why not tell anyone you could play guitar? Why not tell any of us you were playing? People care about that shit.”
More nothing from me.
“I kissed you so that buys me an answer.”
I lean into Abby and she slips her tongue across my lips when I steal another kiss. When I pull away she waggles her eyebrows. “At least we’ve finally raised the stakes of the game.”
Yeah, we did and I’ve discovered playing with fire is more addicting than fast speeds.
“Does Isaiah know?” she continues. “West? Your baseball friends?”
A slight grin on my part and she has the answer. That cute I-know-something-no-else-does glint in her eyes is far sexier than it should be. “So I’m the only one who knows.”
I shove my cord into my bag and zip everything up. “Is this what you really want to do? Ask questions? I was under the impression that we hang because neither of us feel.”
She cocks her head and repeats my answer from earlier. “Just trying to understand you.”
I laugh, it’s a bit bitter, and so’s her smile.
“Are we going to make out or not?” she asks.
I shoulder my guitar bag, she jumps down and doesn’t punch me when I drop an arm around her shoulder to guide her through the crowded club. Her and I, we’ve shared brief touches and long looks that explain exactly what the other is thinking, but she’s never let me this close. Maybe, after tonight, she’ll let me closer.
Abby scans the room, eagle-eyeing a table in the rear, then checking over her shoulder. That same fear Rachel and I spotted earlier, it returns. “Why are you scared tonight, Abby?”
Abby straightens. “I don’t get scared.”
“You are.”
“You’re delusional.” She’s mad, but there’s a slight twitch to her as she checks over her shoulder again.
