He nuzzled her neck with his lips. His hot breath tickled her sensitive skin and his hands lingered as he cupped her breasts in his hands. “I see I have a lot to teach you,” he murmured in her ear.
Full and heavy, she felt the weight of her breasts settle into his palms. “Parking involves forbidden desire. I want you, you want me… but we know it’s too soon.” He continued to explain. All the while his thumbs wreaked havoc on her senses by rolling and pulling her nipples into tight peaks, and his lips traveled a damp path up her neck.
She sighed aloud, half hoping he’d understand what she needed, even if she wasn’t sure herself.
“When you’re parking, you can do anything you want.” He grasped her earlobe between his teeth and pulled. The stinging sensation traveled straight downward and she clenched her thighs together tightly. But the empty, longing sensation remained.
“Anything?” she asked. Her need was so great she’d do anything to alleviate the pulsing, pounding desire. Waves of longing rolled over her, intense and strong.
“Almost anything,” he replied. Without warning, he turned her around, caught her beneath him on the couch. His arms bracketed her, and he eased himself down until he lay on top of her, chest to chest. His erection pressed strongly against her, ready and wanting just like she was.
“I think I like this parking business,” she managed to say through labored breaths.
He laughed. “Done like this, I have to agree. It’s a lot more comfortable on a full-length couch in an air-conditioned apartment. But I’d be happy anywhere as long as I was with you.” His hips jerked against hers.
His swollen desire pushed insistently against her and liquid trickled between her legs. She leaned her head back and moaned with pleasure.
Without warning, he began a grinding motion, a circular press of his hips that pushed her into the couch and ground his hard erection into her. “Now, this is what parking’s all about,” he whispered in her ear.
The waves came fast and furious, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. “Logan…”
“Go with it, sweetheart.”
“But you’re not, we’re not…”
He groaned, pumping his body into hers. “Yes, Cat, we are.” He let out a harsh breath.
Minutes later, still wrapped in his arms, Catherine nuzzled her cheek into his. This was as close to perfect as life could get. If she was in heaven, she never wanted to wake up.
And if life never intruded again, she never would.
* * *
Sweet Sixteen, Catherine thought as she placed the balloon-laden centerpiece on the last table. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. The pink and white balloons intermingled with gold Mylar and red roses were a testament to the young girl’s youthful dreams—and, Catherine thought, the love of her parents. The soon-to-be sixteen-year-old was very lucky.
She looked around the room once more, and ascertaining the tables were complete and the party favors were in the corner, she headed out. The restaurant was handling the catering. All Pot Luck had been hired for were decorations. Her job here was complete.
In the week since the Montgomery party, Catherine had received a flurry of phone calls and had set up appointments with many of Hampshire’s residents who had been at the Montgomery Garden Gala. Although Pot Luck had catered a classy affair, Catherine knew she had Emma to thank for the ensuing referrals. But that had been before her run-in with Judge Montgomery. She couldn’t imagine what the fallout from that episode would be.
Nor, she realized, did she care. She and Kayla had built a catering business in one short year. They’d been doing fine before they’d known the name Montgomery and they’d do fine after. Business-wise, Catherine was happy with her life and she’d survive without Montgomery referrals if need be.
But she wouldn’t survive without Logan. Her heart knew it as well as her mind. The question remained: What did she intend to do about it?
When she hit the top of the stairs, exhaustion overtook her. Her body still tingled from the pleasure Logan had given her last night and her mind soared with possibilities. The front of the restaurant was comprised of a waiting area and a bar. The stools looked cushioned and comfortable, and she didn’t think anyone would mind if she grabbed one and rested before making the half-hour drive back to Boston.
“Drink?” The bartender who’d been wiping down glasses paused in front of her.
Catherine shook her head.
“Come on, I saw you unload that van of balloons yourself. Have a drink. It’s on the house.”
Catherine smiled. “How can I refuse an offer like that? Club soda with a twist of lime.”
“You got it.” He flipped on the television sitting high above the bar. “My girlfriend does a local entertainment show at noon.”
“Mmm. Good for her.”
“Yeah. She’s hoping the bigger networks will pick her up one day. For now, she’s happy doing weekends on the local station. There she is now.” With a flip of the remote, he raised the volume.