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Logan steps forward, capturing me in his gaze.
“So what?” he prompts.
I shake my head, words suddenly lost to me, when he moves even closer.
I can smell his aftershave, or maybe that’s just him. It’s like an animal musk as if he’s calling to me, trying to make me do something silly. Like standing on my tiptoes, reaching up and touching his shoulder.
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
“You’re so beautiful when you get all shy, Lucy,” he says, and I have to remind myself this is real.
I’m awake.
This isn’t another dream, either sleeping or sleepless.
“Huh?”
It’s not what I imagined I might say if Logan ever paid me a compliment, but it’s the only response that comes to me, as though I simply can’t comprehend his words, as though they’re in a different language.
“But it’s not saying much,” he goes on, his voice getting husky, causing thousands of pleasure pulses to move over my body. “You’re always beautiful. Every part of you. It’s been so difficult….”
“What has?” I whisper.
“Not kissing you.”
He looks at me steadily with no hint of a joke in his eyes.
The moment would be perfect…if it were not for the thought of Maxine Waterson and all the other women.
But then his hands are on my shoulders, and all that melts away…fine, just into the background, but it leaves me alone anyway. For the time being.
Logan wants me, physically wants me, wants to kiss me. He’s not feeling everything I am, fine, but I can worry about that later.
“R-really?” I murmur, hating the stutter in my voice.
He moves somehow closer, sliding his hands down my shoulders. He squeezes onto my hips. The sensation is so new, so exciting, my heart thumping, my body pricking with even more sweat. My panties feel like they’re rubbing achingly against my sex.
“Really,” he says, leaning down.
Suddenly I want to show him how badly I want it, too.
If I’m not going to get the life I want with Logan, if I’m going to be just another kiss, I want it on my terms.
Leaning forward, I push my lips against his. He makes a groaning sound, as though he’s caught off guard, as I feign confidence and a voice repeats a phrase over and over in my mind.
Am I doing it right? Am I doing it right? Am I….
He groans deeper, muffled by the close press of our lips, then squeezes onto my hips with even more possessive certainty… no, not that, it’s just a kiss.
And whatever we do,ifI can do anything, is just that. Just stuff. Not what I want.
But it feels so freaking good, soright, as he opens his mouth and his tongue finds mine. My hands smooth over his back as though they’ve got a mind of their own, my fingernails digging through his T-shirt's fabric.
His body is boiling, burning through his clothes.
I dig in tighter and feel how firm his muscles are, huge bands of rock-hard muscle across his back, causing my fingernails to bend as our kiss burns with even more passion.
He pushes his hips forward, letting me feel he’s not faking this hunger. It’s real, a massive solid length pushing against my belly, a huge outline that makes me want to run as fast as I can…or tell him.
