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“Keep your eyes on me,” he orders gruffly. My eyelids flutter open, meeting his intense gaze.
It’s enough to send me over the edge.
He thrusts again and again, this time with a fervor that steals my breath away. It’s raw, it’s unyielding, yet so achingly right. Our locked gazes are the only anchor in this whirlpool of desire.
When his gaze shifts from me, drifting down to where our bodies connect, there’s an audible hitch in his breath, a stammering heartbeat that echoes my own. His hand, hot and steady, guides mine to join his gaze.
“Look, baby,” he implores, voice a throaty rumble. His words dance on the edge of a whisper and a plea. “See where you belong, how good you look on me.”
An overwhelming surge of pleasure mounts, growing with each devastating trust of his hips. His grip around my waist tightens as he continues to drive into me with abandon. It’s almost too much—the intense stimulation, the exhilarating sensation of begin held up against the wall so effortlessly by him. But I can’t, I don’t want to look away.
Logan's muscles tense, his eyes darkening with the same impending release that threatens to unravel me. A guttural groan rumbles in his chest, matching the rapid rhythm of our entwined bodies. I feel his body tremble, his controlled movements becoming erratic as he succumbs to the inevitable.
And then it hits me. A white-hot, all-consuming wave of pleasure that sweeps over me with such force it wrenches a strangled cry from my throat. The sight of us, lost in our shared ecstasy reflected back at us, only serves to intensify the sensation.
“God, Beth...” His voice is strained, choked out between clenched teeth. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, breaths ragged against my skin as he follows me over the edge. His body shudders violently against mine, each pulsating wave of his release matching my own.
Even as our movements still, his arms remain firm around me, holding me with a strength that belies the aftershocks that continue to rock his body. His breath, hot and uneven, tickles my ear, and I know in this moment, I've never felt more cherished, more loved.
Fifty-Six
“Beth, you ready, baby?” Logan’s voice floats in from the living room.
“Almost,” I shout back, grabbing my heels.
For one night, and one night only, we’re back in the city. I already can’t wait to get home. But we’ve been locked in Logan’s loft most of the day, which has made it easier.
From the bathroom, I give a quick nod at my reflection. In a year, there’s so many changes and my dress reflects as much. Instead of the black satin I wore last year, this is a cream off-the-shoulder that hugs my waist. The slit is a little higher than I’m comfortable with, but I’ll live.
I take a deep breath, summoning my courage, and then I step out of the bathroom.
When I walk into the living room, Logan's back is to me. He's wearing a tailored tux, and his broad shoulders fill the suit jacket perfectly. The trousers fit him like a glove, hugging the hard lines of his legs and making me think about how it feels when those muscles press against me.
At the sound of my footsteps, he spins around, and his eyes lock onto mine. When he sees me, there's a fire in his eyes that makes my heart race. He stands frozen for a moment, the intensity in his gaze making me feel like the only woman in the world.
There's something about a man in a well-tailored suit that can make a woman weak in the knees. Seeing Logan in a tux, looking so debonair and dangerous at the same time, sends a thrill of excitement through me. My mouth goes dry, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
He's a sight to behold, a dream in the flesh, and he's all mine.
“You look... unbelievable,” he says, his voice rough.
His eyes travel the length of my body before meeting my gaze. His expression is intense, making heat pool in my stomach.
“Christ,” he breathes, and I'm acutely aware of the effect I have on him.
His feet carry him across the room, until he stands inches from me. His strong arms encircle my waist, pulling me close to him.
“How do you feel about being late?”
His fingers dance lightly along the curve of my waist, making me gasp. I can see the smug grin that plays on his lips, knowing the effect he has on me. His lips hover over mine, so close yet so far, teasing, promising.
“You're a menace. It’s the charity art exhibition. Jake and Claire are going to kill us,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction, and he knows it. His grin widens before his lips finally meet mine in a searing kiss. A kiss that promises more, a kiss that promises a night of love, and a kiss that, I know, will definitely make us late.
His hands roam my body, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touch. My fingers clutch onto his shirt, pulling him closer. “We can be a little late.”
∞∞∞
Stepping out of the car, my fingers are entwined tightly with Logan's as we make our way to the grand entrance. Underneath the bold archway, warm light spills out onto the cobblestone path, illuminating the vibrant floral arrangements lining the doorway. The excited murmur of voices and soft strains of music reach us from inside.
