He nods, his eyes full of sorrow.
“I know. I told Racer, that’s my Pres, that I won’t do it again.”
“I hope not. It is not nice to use women.”
“I know. It was fucked up. I am sorry, Stevie,” he mutters. “This is not me, you can ask anyone from the club. It is why I stood up to Racer and he agreed.”
I nod, but do not say anything. We sit in silence just looking at each other and damn, he is beautiful.
Can men be beautiful?
Apparently so, because Logan Vaughan is.
“I want to make it up to you.” He smirks, like he has mischief in mind.
“And how do you plan to do that, Crash?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowed as he regards me. “Logan.” I sigh dramatically.
The smile he rewards me with would make women go nuts over him, offering all kind of things to please him, and yeah I guess I would be in that line.
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table, his fingers locked beneath his chin as he looks me in the eyes. God, I bet they go dark when he has sex. His brow arches, as he watches me while heat fills my cheeks. The idea of being taken hard and fast by this man fills my head.
Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat, which makes him smirk at me.
“I like that I can make you hot without touching you, baby.”
“I am itching to get back to work. Plus, it is warm in here.”
His grin widens. “If you say so. But back to how I would make it up to you. First, I would take you for a ride on my bike. Maybe stop at a place to get a beer and something to eat.”
That sounds freaking good to me.
“Then?”
Leaning in closer, his hand reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Holy cow, that happens in romance books and it makes me cringe, but Logan doing it has my body swooning.
Damn, he is good.
“Then, I will hold your hand while we walk, and people will see that this sexy, yet sweet woman at my side is mine. They will know that her lips belong to me, her body. That she will becominghome with me.”
“Oh,” I murmur low.
The way he says“coming”sends a shiver straight through me, a flutter in my lower stomach. These romance novels aredefinitely rewiring my brain, making ordinary words from a man suddenly feel loaded.
Or maybe it’s just aLoganthing.
His voice is low, deep, a little rough around the edges… the kind of sound that lingers on your skin long after he stops speaking.
“Yeah. So what do you say? Will you go on a date with me?”
Dumbly, I nod.
“What time do you finish work?”
I blink, and clear my throat. “Oh, um, I finish at five.”
He nods, his smile so freaking handsome it should be illegal.
“Okay, I can pick you up at seven. That give you enough time to go home and get ready?”
