“You’re not coming in?”
“That’s not a good idea, Lottie. I don’t think I can resist you, and you are far too tired.”
“Do I at least get a kiss?”
He set down his guitar case, cupping my face. “You never have to ask.”
He covered my mouth with his, his lips warm and pressing. We kissed easily, our mouths reacquainting themselves, then he slanted his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding inside my mouth and stroking along mine in sensuous passes. Over and again, he explored me, pulling me tighter, holding me close, wrapped tight and safe in his embrace. He tasted like cake. Coffee. Logan. His scent—the winter-like fragrance that clung to him—filled my head, and I held on to him as hard as I could. He filled me up with desire, with light. The day faded far into the background as he claimed me with his mouth, making me want more.
“Stay,” I pleaded.
“I don’t have anything,” he groaned. “I didn’t plan…”
“I’m on the pill. I’m safe. I haven’t been with anyone for over a year.”
He met my beseeching gaze.
“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, Lottie. Since before I started singing to you. A long time before that. I was tested, and I’m negative too. If you trust me, and you want this, I am not going to tell you no. I will never tell you no.”
“Please,” I whispered.
He hooked the door shut behind him and flipped the lock. I yanked off my coat and boots and waited as he did the same. I gasped as he swooped me into his arms and carried me down the hall.
“Your day is going to end a lot better than it started, baby.”
I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the skin, teasing it with my tongue. “I’m counting on it.”
Quickly, I discovered another side to Logan—his tender, lovemaking side. There was no dirty-talking, no rough tearing off of our clothes. Instead, he surrounded me with him. His body, his warmth, his gentleness.
He slowly removed my outfit, brushing kisses onto every inch of my skin as he bared it. He rubbed my shoulders, working magic with his strong fingers as he loosened the muscles, all the while humming low and soft into my ear. He discarded his jeans and shirt, tugging me down on the mattress with him. We kissed endlessly—long, languid swipes of his tongue on mine, all the while touching me.
I shivered as he stroked along my collarbone, his lips light and teasing. He kissed the tender skin on my inner elbow, teased my pulse at my wrist, found the sensitive spot behind my ear. He murmured reassurances, sweet promises, quiet thoughts.
How beautiful I was. How much he wanted me. The way he had missed me all day. He promised to never stop touching me like this.
I was lost to his words, his touch—and to him.
I gripped him hard, needing to feel him. To know he was there. He soothed me with his body, covering mine like a warm, protective blanket, his heat soaking into my skin. He was a welcome weight pinning me to the mattress. He never stopped in his explorations until I begged him.
“Please, Logan. I need you.”
He settled between my legs, hovering over me like a dark angel. He slid inside, both of us groaning at the raw, intimate connection. He was silk over steel, my body welcoming him inside as if it had been waiting for this.
For him.
He stilled, hanging his head. When he lifted his chin, his eyes were intense, the whiskey almost black.
“You feel better than any fantasy or any dream could ever be,” he rasped. “You were made for me, Lottie.”
There was nothing rushed tonight. Long, slow thrusts of his hips, whispered words of adoration, gentle, lingering kisses. The overwhelming intensity of the moment, his piercing gaze, his low words hit me, and I orgasmed without warning, the rolling waves crashing over me as I climaxed and clung to Logan. He buried his face in my neck and groaned out my name as he came, holding me tight as he shuddered, then stilled, his body pushing me down into the mattress as he exhaled and collapsed to my chest. I clutched my arms around his neck, breathing him in, feeling the relaxation rolling over us.
He rolled to his side, his grip never loosening. He tugged me to his chest, running his fingers through my hair, pressing kisses to my forehead. “Amazing.”
I moved to get comfortable and let out a low laugh. “Amazing but messy as hell. You’re all over me.”
“I like being all over you.”
I groaned and relaxed back to his chest. He wasn’t letting me up—at least not yet. He tilted up my chin and kissed me. It was one of his soul-shattering, deep, intense kisses that made my toes curl. The man could kiss like there was no tomorrow. It was highly addictive. When he pulled back, our eyes locked, the silence filled with unspoken words.