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Sheriff Tomlinson nods. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“I want to go too.”
46
Logan
“Oh, my god. Logan! This is beautiful!” Danika says walking into
our penthouse-esqe room. She looks around, setting her backpack on the couch and pulling back the grey curtains. Yes. Our room has a full living room, kitchen, dining room, and California-king in the bedroom. Dad must have assumed Danika was coming with me when he booked the room because this can’t be standard.
“You’ve got to see this view,” she gasps.
I drop my duffle bag by the door and wrap my arms around Danika’s waist, resting my chin on her shoulder. Our room looks out at the ocean, but I’m more interested in what’s in front of me. I’ve spent the last two and a half hours keeping my hands mostly to myself, thinking about all the things we might do this week.
I dip by head, kissing the exposed skin of Danika’s shoulder. She squeals and spins in my arms. Hands on my chest and she looks up at me with those big Bambi eyes. “I love you, Logan.”
My heart hammers heavily against my ribs. When I told Danika I loved her in her kitchen last night, I meant it. I didn’t expect her to say it back. I know that’s not how she works. Hell, it took her how many weeks to finally call me her boyfriend. I thought I’d be waiting just as long for this. “You do?”
She presses her lips to mine, wordlessly reassuring me. It’s all I need. I slide my hands under her thighs and lift; she wraps her legs around my waist. I carry her, our lips never breaking until she squeals when we fall backwards onto the bed. Her hands find the hem of my shirt, tugging both of them over my head.
I swallow hard, struggling with my scars being exposed. I never take my undershirt off unless I'm alone. Even then, I feel uncomfortable. Even though most of the marks are on my back and I can’t see them, I hate that they’re there.
Danika trails her fingers across the marks marring my back. She kisses my collar bone, my shoulder, my neck; her nails grazing over each scar. I never realized how sensitive the skin is. The sensation sweeping through me isn’t necessarily bad. Just different.
“You okay?”
I kiss that sweet spot on her neck, making her squeal again. “You stole my line.”
Danika pulls her shirt off then unbuckles my belt, looking me directly in the eye. “I’m good.” She slips her hand down my pants. Her fingers wrap around me and I fight to stay in control.
I reach behind her back and unclasp her bra. I shove it out of the way and suck her nipple between my lips. Danika moans, her back arching and fists my hair with her free hand. I pepper her chest with kisses, up to her neck, then whisper, “Baby, you’ve got to stop or I’m going to cum.”
Danika pushes me onto my back and smirks. “Are you, now?”
With the grace of a ninja, Danika whips me out of my pants and sucks me into her mouth. I mumble “Jesus” because the girl’s got a mouth like a Hoover vacuum.
“Fuck, baby.” I moan. “I’m about to cum…”
She sucks harder. Deeper. And takes every bit of my seed, swallowing. I lie there, stunned. That was by far the best blowjob I’ve ever had. The fact that it came from Danika makes it even better.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper, lifting my head to see where my queen went. Yup. After that performance, she’s been promoted to queen, and I am but her humble servant.
Danika sits cross legged beside me with a grin a mile wide. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and chuckles. “Tangy.”
“Is it just me, or is this pool way better than yours?” Danika relaxes in a blue and white lounge chair nestled on the deck of the rooftop infinity pool.
I chuckle into the rim of my beer bottle and take the last sip. You know the best thing about being Sheriff in a small town? You can do whatever the fuck you want. Such as give your nephew and his girlfriend fake-IDs that match perfectly to their drivers licenses, except for the birthdays. Yeah. He’s that good.
I set my empty bottle on the little table beside me then fold my arms behind my head. “Mine is better.”
Danika rolls onto her side. “Oh, yeah. Why’s that?”
I was going to say because we can go skinny dipping, but the poolside waitress checks on us. Again. The girl is very attentive. Annoyingly so. She picks up my beer and Danika’s empty glass. “Want another?”
“Yes, please,” Danika replies, with an innocence that almost gives us away.
I lift my Oakley’s and smile up at the girl. She’s pretty in that wears too much make-up, tries too hard kind of way. I glance at her nametag, which sits over her tiny chest, and purr her name. “Mariella. That’s a pretty name.”
