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She came up in front of him and rested her shoulder against the door jamb. He reached into the room, but she touched his arm. “No lights.”
“You do make it difficult to be a good guy.”
“Actually, I was trying to help. Maybe if I didn’t get a good look at the bed, then I wouldn’t have dumb ideas.” Because she wanted to let all the bad ideas out to play. Her belly quivered with the need to take short, panting breaths that ended in skin-to-skin contact.
“All the stupid ideas start in the dark.” His voice was so low it was almost pure sandpaper. All of the velvet was gone.
“Good thing we’re not stupid.”
Sandalwood and vanilla were going on her list of avoids. They would be forever woven into thoughts of Logan. And in the dark, there was only the sounds of his breath and that incredibly distracting scent to concentrate on.
She
took a step into the bedroom and he suddenly gripped her arms. He pushed her into the door frame, his knee sliding between her thighs. She let out a strangled moan as his muscular body crowded her. His nose brushed against hers. Wine-scented breath fanned across her cheek then her lips.
“You have no idea how badly I want to ask you to be stupid.”
His lips were right there. All she had to do was lift her mouth and find his. To let go and fall into the chasm of pleasure he was offering. One word, one sound was all it would take.
She pressed her forehead to his chin and breathed in his scent and heat trapped along his neck. Then she slipped away from him and into the bedroom. Every bit of warmth dissipated the moment she stepped away from him. She gripped the doorknob until her hand throbbed. “Good night, Logan.”
He slapped his palm on the door. And for a moment, she thought he was going to push. One more offer and she’d cave. His bracelet charms scraped along the door as he dropped his hand. “Goodnight, Izzy.”
And he was gone.
Eight
He woke with the sun searing his face and a tongue swiping up his cheek. “Get off.”
“Get up, you lazy ass.”
One hundred and ten pounds of Akita landed on his balls. Logan curled into himself and hoped like hell the squeak that came out wasn’t as awful as it sounded. “Jesus, Cody.”
“My man missed you.” Zeke Stacey dropped onto the couch next to him in the atrium. Paws with gouging nails dug into his thigh as Cody turned around and dove onto Zeke’s lap. “That’s my good boy.” Zeke scrubbed his head and the dog’s leg thumped into the leather.
Logan tried to get up, tripped over his guitar, hip checked the next chair and fell into it.
“Smooth. No wonder you’re sleeping on the couch alone, Lo.”
There had been much whisky after he’d left Izzy’s door. He’d made sure to put a sticky note on the front door with the code for the security system, then he’d found the bottom of the bottle. In fact, he wasn’t completely certain if he’d passed out last night or actually fell asleep. Masochist that he was, he’d stayed in the atrium, just down the hall from her.
Had he been hoping she’d come out to find him?
She’d closed the door in his face. You couldn’t get much more effective on the whole no thing than that. Thank fuck she’d been the one to say no. Last night he’d been so hard and aching so bad that he’d been ready to promise her anything. Beyond stupid.
Izzy didn’t deserve to climb into his crazy, even if they’d enjoy a little sweaty one-on-one first. What then? He’d have to avoid her for the rest of his days? Or worse, try to become friends after they got horizontal? Or vertical. Or both. Because last night he’d been hard enough to pin her to every surface in his house and maybe a few outside.
More than a few.
He bowed his head and pushed that thought away.
“Earth to Logan.” Zeke crouched in front of him, all blond surfer curls and as furry faced as his damn dog.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, yeah. I need fucking coffee.”
“You look like shit, man.”
“And you look like a beach bum.”
