Grace for Drowning

"If you were to open a restaurant, what would it be like? I know you, Grace. There's no way you haven't thought about this."

I couldn't help but smile. He was right. You know how some girls plan their dream wedding from the time they're old enough to twirl their hair at a boy? Well that was me, except replace "twirl my hair at a boy" with "pick up a wooden spoon," and "wedding" with "restaurant." I went through phases of course — the angsty fusion place where everything is a foam or a deconstruction, the ultra-hip and minimalist modern Japanese den, the eco-friendly vegan hang out — but once I left the hormones behind, I settled on something and haven't looked back.

"It would be Italian. Lots of pasta, pizza, garlic, prosciutto. Real comfort food. I want it to be the kind of place you're just as happy ducking down to for a weeknight meal as you are booking a romantic Saturday dinner for two. And it wouldn't be too big; thirty or forty seats. Nice and friendly. I want regular customers that know me by name and come in and order the same thing every week. Of course, I'll also have three Michelin Stars and be in Bon Appétit magazine and I'll be friends with Heston Blumenthal and Ferran Adria and go to all kinds of parties with them."

His expression had grown increasingly confused as I talked. "I'm not sure what any of those last things you said are, but the restaurant sounds good."

I laughed. "Yes, yes it does."

A few minutes later, Logan pushed his plate forward. "Well, I'm officially stuffed."

"Hopefully not too much. There's still dessert."

"Seriously?"

I nodded. "Back at my place."

His expression turned sly. "Do I get a choice of options? Because I think I know what I want."

The way he ran his eyes up and down my body left little doubt about what he was referring to, but I decided to play dumb. "Of course there's a choice." I stood up to begin packing. "What sort of thing are you in the mood for? There's cake, there's ice cream—"

Logan interrupted me by rising to his feet, stepping closer and scooping me up in his arms. A tingle rolled through me. Christ he was strong.

"You know what I'm in the mood for." He kissed me, our lips parting, our tongues colliding in a delicious flurry of passion. Heat prickled my skin. I had to restrain myself from just letting go completely then and there. One kiss from him was all it took to undo me. No man had ever made me so shameless before.

"Well, how about you come back home with me," I said, breaking away, "and then you can have whatever your heart desires."

He pressed his forehead against mine, staring intently into my eyes. "That sounds perfect."

Joy's friend Brad had graciously agreed to come and pick up our gear once we were done, so I sent him a text to let him know we'd be down soon. Despite the fact that it had taken Joy and I three trips to move everything up the hill, with Logan there, it took only one. I would probably have been embarrassed if it wasn't such a fantastic excuse to watch him lift and bend. His body barely strained at all, even when it was laden down with the table and both chairs.

"You guys need a ride anywhere?" asked Brad.

"I think we're fine to walk," I said, glancing at Logan. "We've got a meal to work off."

The twinkle in his eye said he really wanted to make a joke about the way we were planning on doing that, but instead he just said, "We definitely do."

"Alright, suit yourselves."

"Thanks, Brad."

My apartment was a couple of miles away. We spent most of the walk in silence, enjoying the night air. A current was running below my skin, the promise of what was to come filling my mind. I loved that he had the ability to do that to me, to hijack my senses and blanket everything in passion and electricity. That anticipation was almost as good as the real thing.

We arrived at my apartment, and I reached for my keys, but Logan stepped closer, seizing my hands and pressing my back against the door, pinning me in place. I felt his lips brush my neck, his mouth darting up to nip my ear lobe. We hadn't even made it inside and he was already all business.

"You know, you've got some desert on you," he said, stroking my hip softly. I glanced down and noticed he was right. We'd kicked up a fair bit of dust on our little trek, some of which was now clinging to our clothes.

"So do you," I replied.

"You're right. We're both filthy. Who knows where else it's gotten. There's only one thing to do."

"There is?" I asked breathily, barely able to focus on his voice at all. How the hell could he talk while still doing so much with his mouth? The man had serious skills.

"Yep. We need a shower."

The way he said "we" sent a pulse of desire straight down to my sex. The idea of getting him all naked and soapy was an incredible turn on. "You know, I think you're right."

I couldn't get the key in the lock fast enough. We made our way awkwardly down the corridor, giggling as we tried to walk, make out and shed clothing all at once. By the time I had the water running, we were both naked. I took a moment to marvel at his body once more, those pecs, that perfect V, his beautiful cock that was already growing before my eyes. Logan was every woman's fantasy, and he was completely mine.