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Which she did. Fuck them, that was. Long term, it wasn’t a good strategy if she wanted to have a family—which she did—and at thirty-one years old, Emma knew she should be working out what kind of man she wanted and be dating seriously.
But that day wasn’t today.
Her best friend, Lily, had told her she needed to at least start dating again.
Which was rich, coming from her, because Lily barely dated. She’d had a couple of short-term relationships when they were in their twenties, and that was it.
Emma wasn’t sure if Lily was shy or lacked confidence, but she was awkward around men. The two of them were polar opposites.
Let’s just say, Lily didn’t support Emma’s sexual freedom.
So, Emma had skipped asking Logan any deeper questions and got on with the farewell.
“Got it,” she had replied, referring to his announcement he was never marrying again. “Well, this was awesome.”
Emma had taken one last glance at his naked chest with those thick pecs, then tilted her face so Logan could kiss her cheek. And he did, adding,Sleep well,which she thought was quite sweet.
And out of character.
And had stuck with her.
Emma had slipped out the door and yawned the entire fifteen-minute drive back to her hotel, where she’d collapsed into bed. And slept for one hour.
Sixty minutes.
But Logan had been totally worth it.
“Here you go, Emma,” Suzie, a fellow author said, handing her an enormous coffee cup.
“Saint Suzie, you are an angel,” Emma cried dramatically.
“You know this is your fourth one today, right?” Suzie asked over her shoulder, wandering back to her table.
Oh yeah, she knew.
Nodding, Emma lifted the coffee to her lips and let out a groan. She said something that sounded like, “Mwwaff cophwweee ovvv zaaa gawwdss.”
Emma wasn’t even sure herself.
But as the caffeine hit her system, she sat up straighter, and the wheels of her brain started turning faster.
Thank heavens.
Emma wondered how Logan was feeling today. Men always seemed to look the same, no matter how little sleep they had.
He also hadn’t needed to get up as early as she did. His grandmother’s funeral started much later. Not that he’d told her—Harper had mentioned it in reference to Daniel’s day.
“Emma Edwards, what is up with you today?” Harper asked, narrowing her eyes. “It was only eleven when you left last night. Did you stay up writing?”
Emma went to open her mouth to tell her friend the sexy gossip, but for some reason, telling her about Logan felt wrong. As if she wanted to keep the seductive night to herself.
One day, Emma might tell her, but not today.
Not when her body was aching in the most delicious way. Not when she could still feel the echoes of his cock inside her.
Not when she could still breathe in the remnants of his musky scent.
Logan was a highly sexual man, and he’d followed through on his promises. All five orgasms had been powerful and had left her shuddering.
