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Her hands went to the snap on her jeans and she carefully slid them down her hips until she stepped out of them and tossed them to the side. Her panties came next and then the sweater and bra.
In seconds she stood only a few feet from the man she’d yearned for all of her life it seemed. She was vulnerable and, aware…
As naked as she hoped Logan was.
She’d never felt more alive than in this moment.
Billie walked toward the bed until she was inches from him. She cocked her head to the side so that she could see him better. So she could study the planes and lines of his face without him seeing the yearning and need in her own.
His features looked younger as he slept, and that stubble on his chin, the very stubble that had excited her the day before, was darker yet. Darker, thicker, and hotter.
She bent down, fingers inches from the mouth that she wanted more than anything and then she touched him, breath held as electric pulses exploded all over her body. Her stomach rolled— not from queasiness—but from excitement. From need and want and the knowledge that only he could assuage the ache inside.
If she was brave enough to slide into bed with him.
His eyes flew open suddenly and she froze, her hand backing away, but his arm snaked out and he grabbed hold of her wrist. He grabbed her so strongly and roughly that she stumbled forward.
And then she was all tangled up with Logan Forest—a mess of body parts, of hard edges and soft curves.
And when the dust finally settled he was on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, his legs and hips holding her prisoner. The blanket was long gone and Billie-Jo couldn’t help the grin that settled onto her face as every nerve in her body responded. She’d been right.
Logan [i]was[i] as naked as the day he’d been born. And they were skin on skin.
His eyes studied her carefully, moving slowly downward until he settled on her heaving chest. He arched an eyebrow, a wicked smile gracing his mouth as he glanced back into her eyes.
“Mornin’,” he said huskily. “This is a surprise.”
Her heart was beating so rapidly she wasn’t sure she could speak. She opened her mouth in an attempt to say something but couldn’t because he leaned down and his mouth ate whatever the heck it was she was going to say anyway.
He kissed her so slowly, so softly—as if he tasted every single inch of her mouth—that when she finally came up for air, she could barely breathe. Her entire body was on fire and as loose and as limp as a noodle.
He’d done that to her, with just one kiss.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with rasp as he bent forward again and nuzzled the sensitive area beneath her ear. “And your hair drives me crazy.”
He let her arms go and she immediately wrapped them around his neck, pulling him back down because she wasn’t done with the whole kissing thing. She’d heard her girlfriends go on and on about the actual act of sex—of the penetration and all that—but they never talked about the kissing, about making out. About how two people could communicate so much just by the way their tongues and lips and mouths talked to each other.
He groaned as she thrust her tongue inside him. She felt one hand at the back of her head while his other began its own exploration. Rough finger pads traced a line of fire down her collar bone until he settled on one of her nipples. Her breast swelled beneath his touch and she arched into him.
He paused when he reached her right side and tore his mouth away for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “I could kill that bastard for what he did to you.” Gently he traced her stitches with his tongue. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. Nothing hurt when she was with him.
He claimed a turgid nipple once more and when he dragged his lips away from hers, she protested until his hot mouth closed around the other nipple and the sensations that his hand and mouth achieved together were enough to drive her completely insane.
Each tug of his teeth, each suck and pull on her nipple, shot straight down her body to that moist part of her that ached. Her hips began to buck and rotate on their own and Logan kissed each nipple before grinning wickedly down at her, as his other hand went lower, skidding over her abdomen and stopping briefly where her belly button ring was.
The irises of his eyes widened and his gaze was intense as he held her eyes prisoner, his hand continuing down, caressing the flesh of her hip before going even lower. She couldn’t breathe. The anticipation was killing her.
Billie’s legs were open and she was waiting, yearning for his touch.
And when he stopped she nearly choked.
Sweat beaded along his forehead, his beautiful eyes looked stormy, passionate and sexy-as-hell.
“I can’t hold back if we keep going, Billie,” he said gruffly.
She knew he was giving her an out and she loved him for that. How many men in this situation would even think of holding back?
