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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sparks from thefire had nothing on those flying between him and Emma tonight.
They were fucking sizzling.
How that was possible after having her for hours the night beforeandthis morning, Logan was unsure.
She was like the perfect cup of coffee.
The more he had, the more he needed.
Yes, he realized Emma was keeping a distance, and in a way, Logan knew it was the best thing to do. Neither of them were here to form a relationship. It was better if they just connected in bed at the end of the day.
Says the man who just spent how many thousands on fucking dresses from Chanel to make this woman happy?
It wasn’t the same thing.
Still, he’d watched Emma walk down onto the sand in her cutoff denim shorts, sneakers, and a white T-shirt and had to force himself to look away.
And failed.
That all-American girl look, with the flag embossed on one denim-clad cheek, was incredibly fuckable.
None of that was a problem.
It was as the night progressed and he felt himself drawn to her, like a moth to the flame, to talk and tease her, that he began to lie to himself.
I’m just being friendly.
She’s a guest.
Just making her feel welcome.
I want her to fit in.
Emma was a sure thing. He knew they’d fuck tonight. Zero effort was required.
