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“Is that what you want to write?” I ask.
She nods, biting her lip and squeezing the table’s edge. Her eyes dart inside as if she’s getting tired of talking to her dad’s friend. That’s probably all this is for her, a conversation with an older man, never one she could imaginebeingwith.
“I do write it now, but yeah, that’s what I want to write, too.”
“You seem passionate about it.”
She laughs with a mixture of surprise and delight. Every time she laughs, I think about making her do it again. It feels earned, true. It’s not how some people laugh at what I say just because I’m Logan Ice. “Do I?”
I grin and move closer. “Definitely. It’s the way you light up. So, are we talking picture books, or…”
“No, novels. Well,shortnovels for middle school, some a little younger. Whenever I imagine reading them, it’s always…”
She trails off, but I have to know. Her voice has become far too passionate for me to stop now. “What, Emma?” I say fiercely.
She flinches like my change of tone has shocked her, but I can’t stop myself. “Just… I imagine reading them to my children when I have any. I imagine them, you know, reacting to the story.”
Her voice becomes breathy at the end. Maybe it’s because I’m leaning close to her in the fire’s light. If Michael returns, he’ll see us. He’ll see me leaning closer and closer to his daughter. Hungry for her lips. Her everything. Her entire future. Her life. Her body. Her love. Her loyalty. Her respect.
She. Is. Mine.
My cock is pushing so hard against my pants. My tip is swollen, aching with lust, withmorethan lust.
“Logan,” she whispers, my lips hovering over hers. “What are you doing?”
“Do you want me to stop?” I growl, not sure which one I want more. For her to say yes, protect the friendship, maintain my status asnota piece of shit, orno,don’t stop. Kiss her and claim her. Never stop making her mine.
She sighs, then shivers when I move my hand to her thigh. I feel her tights, her warm skin beneath them. My cock is fully hard now, flooded with desire.
“Answer me, Emma.”
CHAPTERFIVE
Emma
He presses harder on my leg, sending pleasure shooting up my thigh and tickling my core. Everything is so much more intense in the fire’s light, the flames dancing in his intense blues. The tall glass doors behind him show the living room and the corridor. Dad could appear any second. We have to stop.
He’s given me an out. I could tell himyes, stop, but no, I can’t. I don’t want to. That’s the truth. Every instinct in me is screaming to give myself to him.
“No,” I whisper.
The moment I say it, he presses his lips against mine. I gasp, wondering if I fell asleep during one of my Logan fantasies, and soon, I’ll wake up with the sheets all tangled around me. The warm roughness of his lips is real. The pressure in his hand as he moves higher and higher, teasing closer to my core, is real.
Our kiss deepens. With him, it feels so effortless. There’s none of the anxiety or nerves I’d assume I would have with a man. It’s justinstinct,passion. It’s because he’smyman.
I put my hands on his arms. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt, the fabric thin, letting me feel his muscles. His body feels as if it’s expanding with each breath, his muscles getting harder and bigger. He grunts and pushes his tongue against mine.
I move my tongue, too, chasing the feeling. Then he pushes right up against my sex through my tights and underwear. I might as well be naked. My clit is on fire, not a candle flame, an inferno, as he begins to rub me.
“Oh, oh,” I whimper, then bite down.
“You’re wet for me,” he groans. “You’re soaked for me, Emma.”
I look wide-eyed up at him. The firelight causes the silver flecks in his hair to shimmer. I’ll never forget how he looks right now, scorched into my mind. But what about after? What aboutDad?
Sitting up, I push my lips against his again so I don’t have to think. He groans in response, moving his fingers faster against my clit. My pussy and my legs feel like they’re melting with pleasure.
It’s so sudden, so unexpected—the heat between us. I moan through the kiss. Then I can’t kiss anymore, thunder clashing in my body. My folds are soaked. My core feels tingly, waiting for his finger, his tongue, his… I swallow. Should he know? Maybe it will make him stop.
