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Her mouth was open slightly and he could just see the tip of her pink tongue. Her chest heaved as the pulse at the base of her neck told him exactly how hot and bothered she was—though the luscious nipples that strained against her sweater wasn’t something she could hide either. They begged for his mouth. For his hands and tongue and whatever else he could use on them.
For a second his eyes moved down to what was left of their dessert. There was still a generous amount of sweet, chocolate syrup oozing across the plate.
An image of her engorged nipple, encased in the decadent, sweet chocolate, had him cursing under his breath as he reached for his wallet.
“We should go,” he said, not sounding at all in control.
“Hell, yes,” she breathed, not missing a beat. She grabbed her wine glass and downed the last bit of it before grabbing her purse.
The sexual tension between them was palpable. He felt it as if it were a living, breathing thing a
nd for a moment he had to remind himself that he was in a fine dining establishment. He couldn’t grab a fist full of her hair—that mane of silk that had been teasing him all night—and throw her across the table.
Even if that visual did a whole lot more than calm him down. Holy hell.
Logan signaled the waitress and handed over his credit card. While he waited for her to return, he noticed a couple men at the bar who were staring at Billie as if she was on the menu. He stood and moved toward her—again where the hell was this caveman thing coming from?—and was glad when he spied their waitress with his receipt.
He wasn’t in the mood to bust anyone’s chops, but he sure as hell didn’t like the way the men were staring at his woman.
Logan guided Billie out the door, his body hot and tight. He didn’t know what exactly the next few hours held because he knew his original plan—the one that called for him to bed Billie and then hopefully exorcise her from his head—wasn’t going to work.
No way did he want that to work.
He wanted her in his bed all right, but he was kind of seeing it as more of a permanent thing. And that was crazy. This was Billie. Billie-Jo Barker.
Betty’s sister.
He’d warned Shane not to get involved with any of the Barker women and here he was, panting at Billie’s heels like a dog in heat.
His eyes fell to her ass as she wove through the tables and said goodbye to Andrew. She kissed the small Frenchman—on both cheeks—and he shook the man’s hand on his way out.
Billie was a little unsteady on her feet and he grabbed her elbow as they walked out into the crisp, October air. Her coat was on her arm and those gorgeous breasts were still begging for his mouth, causing another twitch between his legs.
Keep it together Forest, he thought.
“Logan?”
They were at his truck.
She clung to his chest and glanced up at him—every gorgeous inch of her pressed against his body. There was no way in hell he could hide how he felt and by the look in her eyes, she knew it.
“I don’t want to go home,” she said softly.
Again, he found himself staring into eyes that he could lose himself in if he wasn’t careful. Eyes filled with secrets and desire and—she licked her lips—plain old lust.
“Are you sure?” He watched her closely.
She nodded slowly, though she didn’t say a thing.
“Okay.”
Logan opened the door for her and took his time helping her into the truck—how could he not? Her ass was to die for.
Once she was safely ensconced in the passenger seat, he reversed out of the parking lot, kept his gaze on the road ahead and made it back to New Waterford in record time.
The light was on in Shane’s loft, but other than that his place was quiet and dark. He parked in the garage and held the door open for Billie as she slid from his truck.
He grabbed her hand and tugged her along after him as they made their way through the dark, up his walkway and onto the front porch. His breaths were falling fast and hard, and it was all he could do to get his damn keys out of his pocket and open the front door.
