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A few moments, and he’s with me again, lacing our fingers and leading me outside where the air has grown cooler.
“The café here is supposed to be good…” He stops, and my hand is in the bend of his arm. I press my body to his.
“But?” I smile.
“What if
we head back to my place, read a little, and order in?”
“You want to read?” When I lift my chin, our faces are closer.
He leans down and covers my lips with his. It’s a long, slow kiss, and when he pulls back, my entire body is humming. “No.”
“Me either.”
My thoughts swirl as we zip through the streets on his motorcycle. My front is to his back, and my eyes are closed as the wind pushes against my face. He’s so warm, and I tighten my hold on his firm torso. We’re at his place—I’ve never been here—and he parks along the curb. Grabbing the bag, he pulls my hand into his arm again, and I’m right beside him, waiting as he fumbles with his keys before opening a large door.
“Your place is huge,” I say, walking beside him up the stairs. “Does anyone else live here?”
We reach the top and he leaves me, crossing the open floor plan to what must be the kitchen. I turn away from the stairs, sliding my fingers across the back of a slick, leather chair.
“It’s just the one big room,” he says, and I hear the pop of champagne. The sound of bubbles in glasses is next, and he’s crossing the space to me.
“When you said you had a studio apartment, I expected something like mine.”
“Yours isn’t like this?”
A cool champagne flute is placed in my hand, and I take a sip. “No,” I say, laughing. “I can barely turn around in my place. It might be two hundred square feet.”
A large hand slides around me, over my lower back. “I’m barely ever here. I sleep and occasionally stay a few nights.”
My hand is on his chest, and I trace it over the soft cotton tee he’s wearing. “How are you having so much time here now?”
“The royal family is in the Caribbean,” he leans down to kiss the side of my face. His beard scruffs the sensitive place behind my ears, and desire shimmers through my insides.
“Why aren’t you with them?” My voice has grown thick as he continues kissing into my hair.
“The king thought I needed a break.” Straightening, he takes my flute and sets it to the side along with his. I hear the clink of the crystal glasses against each other.
Just as fast, he’s back with me, pulling my hips against his with both hands. He slides them back and down, softly over my ass, and heat floods my pelvis.
“Come.” His voice is low, seductive, and he takes my hands, pulling me as he walks backwards, leaning down to nip my lips every few steps.
“Careful.” My entire body alive and sensitive to his touch.
He pauses and drops to sitting in front of me. His head is at my chest, and large hands clasp my upper thighs. My hands are on his shoulders, and my eyes flutter shut as he slides his hands higher, his thumbs grazing my center, before he pulls my tunic off my body.
Cupping his cheeks, I lean down to kiss him. “I want you so much.”
His hands move faster, pushing my bikini bottoms down and off before reaching back up to slide two fingers back and forth across my slit. My legs shudder at the sensation, and I gasp a little moan.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching up to pull the strings of my bikini top. In two pulls, I’m bare before him. My stomach tightens as he leans back, his gaze burning over my skin.
Just as fast he’s back up, pulling my breast into his mouth, licking and biting at my beaded nipple. I can’t help gasping as his large hands trace down my back and down my ass from behind, dipping into my core.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, devouring my skin, pulling little bits between his teeth.
“Oh, god, Logan,” I whisper, fumbling with his shirt. “Take this off,” I gasp. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
