Page 27 of Living at 40

“I . . .” He licks his lips as he stares back at me. “I can’t fuck you in another man’s briefs.”

Holy . . . what?

“Excuse me.” Still perched on my elbows, I’m frozen once again but blink in his direction. Logan presses off the door and comes to the side of the bed. His fingers twitch as he reaches forward for my knee and then stops himself, curling his fingers into a fist and returning his hand to his side.

“Put me on the list.”

“Logan,” I groan, falling back on the bed and covering my face with both hands. He hisses as I do this, and I spread my fingers to allow me to see him through the slats. His eyes focus on my breasts, un-bra-ed and nipples pert through the thin material of my cotton shirt. Falling backward, the camisole shifted, and a strip of my belly is exposed.

“Please,” he groans, closing his eyes.

“Logan, you do not want to be the one to get me pregnant.” My arms fall to my sides, feeling self-conscious in this position of him staring down at me as I lay across my bed.

“Why not?”

“Because you have Lorna.”

Pausing for a moment, he takes a deep breath before responding. “You don’t need me to be the dad. You just want my sperm.” He’s trying to tease me, but his eyes scan my body. He chews at his lower lip. Instantly, I’m as heated as I was standing before him when he sat on the kitchen stool earlier this evening. My head says deny him while my body screams for release, wanting more than my own fingers to perform the finishing act.

“Fine,” I mutter, sounding petulant even though I’m anything but. My hands curl to fists as I lie on my back.

“Why do you look like you’re gritting your teeth? Would it really be that bad to sleep with me?” His softening tone puzzles me. He reaches forward, connecting with my skin this time by stroking one finger over my knee and circling the cap before dragging it down my shin. “I’d want you to enjoy it.”

Yes, please, I think as his finger retraces its path and drags over my knee again, heading up the length of my thigh to the hem of my briefs, which is high on my leg. Reaching the edge, he slips his fingertip just beneath the material at the center of my thigh where my leg meets my hip.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m doing you a favor.”

Please, do me a favor. Do me.

Logan pulls his finger away and stands taller. “I get it. I’m not Mason, but I still think we’d be good. I’d be good to you.” His eyes avoid mine as he slips his hands into his short’s pockets. He pauses a beat before turning on his feet and heading for my door.

My body vibrates but watching him walk away, everything in my body screeches to a halt. He can’t leave me like this. I’m too wound up between his touch, and the book, and earlier. Plus, my hormones are raging, and my gut says this is the time. I’m between my cycle.

Scrambling to my knees on the bed, I follow his retreat, crawling on my knees as he stalks to the door.

“Wait.” The word rushes out of me as I reach forward, nowhere near able to catch him with my touch. “Don’t . . . leave.”

A foot from the door, Logan turns back to me.

“I don’t want Mason.”

My chest heaves as we stare at one another. I can’t read his expression. Am I really doing this? “But we need some ground rules.”

Logan tilts his head as his hands come to his hips. “Okay.”

“It’s only sex. You get in and stay in until I say to move.”

Logan chuckles, reaching up for his mouth and scrubbing his fingers around his lips. “Never heard that before, but okay.”

“I’m clean. Rick left me over eight months ago, and I got tested right away when I found out he cheated on me.”

“Fucking bastard,” Logan says, and the harshness actually warms my insides. He’s pissed on my behalf. “I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.”

I stare back at him, shocked. “But you’re so . . .”

“What?” The sharpness in his tone the second time forces me to admit how I see him.

“Hot.” Slowly the edge in his expression melts away and he grins a sheepish boy grin.