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Logan blushes and smirks. “Wanted to look good for our date.”
He steps through the door, and I eyeball him, nearly drooling. I want to unbutton him slowly and bend him over the kitchen counter. He liked being fucked, and God help me, I liked it too.
I’ve never been a top before, and ever since he rode me, I want to do it again.
“You always look good. You just look…even gooder.”
I can no longer speak English. He has robbed me of this.
“Aw, that’s impossible,” Logan croons and then pulls me into him. He makes no comment about what I’m wearing—jeans and a loose T-shirt. I’m a hot mess compared to this guy.
I need to try harder. I make a mental note to try to do better, so I’m comparable to him. I want him to be proud of me.
“I brought dessert,” he says, holding up a small bag. “Beignets.”
I eye the white bag in his hand. “I’ve never had those.”
“Oh, you’re in for a treat. They’re like an orgasm in your mouth.” He eyes the kitchen and his stomach rumbles. “Perfect timing. I’m starving.”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling dumb for not having a place for us to actually eat. I should have at least set out a blanket or some shit; pretended this was a picnic.
But Logan doesn’t seem to mind that I’m woefully unprepared. He just lowers himself onto the floor where we usually sprawl out and Curie meanders over, looking for a treat.
Of course, Logan doesn’t disappoint her, and pulls out some kind of cat snack from his pocket. When he holds it out to her, she sniffs at it, and then gently takes it. He pats her on the head and thanks her for not taking his finger off like last time.
God, my throat gets all thick and my chest squeezes at the sight. I’m half in love with him already.
Turning my head away so he doesn’t notice how dumb I’m being, I dish some alfredo pasta into two bowls and hand him one. He eats it like I made him some fancy Michelin star meal, moaning and smacking his lips.
“Wow, I was hungry,” he says, scraping the bottom of his bowl and sliding the spoon between his lips. “That was hella good, Theo. Thanks.”
My cheeks immediately burn, simpering and blushing over the littlest praise. Why am I like this around him?
Logan sets the bowl onto the ground and Curie saunters over and tentatively licks at it.
“You’re a good kitty, Curie,” he says, patting her as she licks up the alfredo sauce. “Deep down, you’re a good girl, huh?”
Jesus Christ.
“I called my dad,” I blurt, and his eyes snap up to meet mine.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m going to meet him on Sunday.”
Logan runs a hand across his stomach and cocks his head. “Will you be okay to go alone?”
I swallow and don’t respond because I don’t know. My dad has always made me feel so small and I’m not sure that this time will be any different. But he had sounded so sincere on the phone, so I thought I owed myself this.
If it ends badly, then I’ll know it wasn’t meant to be.
“Want me to come?” Logan asks softly.
Oh god. He would offer. Why is he so sweet? He’s killing me.
“Can I think about it?” I ask, because I want to say yes, but I don’t want to make any rash decisions just because he’s being nice to me.
“Yeah, of course. And speaking of,” he says and then stands up, moving to the kitchen and grabbing the small white bag with dessert inside. He shakes it a little and says, “You’re coming home with me for Thanksgiving.”
