Smart, Sexy and Secretive (The Reed Brothers 2)

She drops her keys on a table by the door, locks the deadbolt behind her, and then puts a security code in the keypad by the door. Her hair hangs down to cover part of her face, and I brush it back. “Em,” I say softly. “You want me to meet your parents?”

She heaves a sigh. I can feel it blow across my chin. “I want my parents to meet you. I’m just not sure if I want you to meet them.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “My dad can be a little…condescending. I’m afraid of what he’ll say to you.” She shakes her head. “That’s all.” She looks directly into my eyes. “It’s all about him. Not you.”

“So you don’t want me to meet them.” I let my hands drop to my sides.

“No,” she rushes to say. “I want you to meet them.”

“When?” I need to know.

She shrugs and grimaces. “Tomorrow?”

A grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “Really?”

She smiles. “Really.” She pats my shirt. “You’re wet. You should take this off.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I reach back behind my head and pull my shirt off the way guys do. I don’t have anything on under it.

Emily freezes, staring at my chest. “Goodness, would you look at that.” She licks her lips.

“If you think these are nice,” I tease, gesturing to the tats that cover my chest and shoulders, “just wait until you see the one I put on my ass. It’s all yours.”

“You got a tat on your ass for me?” she asks.

I nod. “Want to see it?” I tease.

“Hell, yeah.”

Emily

Instead of taking off his pants so I can see his ass, Logan stalks toward me, his eyes narrowing as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and bites down. His hands land firmly on each side of my head, and he leans close to my face, so close that I can feel his breath brush across my ear. He presses his lips to my forehead tenderly and takes a deep breath, his eyes closed.

I reach for him, exploring his naked chest with the tips of my fingers. But he groans and lifts my hands over my head, pinning them against the wall. “You’re trembling,” he says, threading his fingers through mine.

A big rush of breath escapes me, and he laughs.

“Why trembling, Em?” he asks softly. He bends his head and leans down. His teeth catch the top button of my shirt and gently tug it free of its buttonhole. My shirt gapes open, exposing the lacy edge of my bra. His teeth work their way down my shirt until it’s hanging open all the way down, and I suck in my stomach as he dips his tongue into my belly button. He looks up at me and grins. “Why trembling?” he asks again.

“Because you’re here,” I admit. I lay my head back against the wall, and my hands still pinned above my head, although he moves one hand closer to the other and takes my wrists in one his palms. He dips the forefinger of his free hand into the cup of my bra and tugs it down, my breast suddenly free and pushed high with the help of my bra cup gathered beneath it. My nipple beads in the cool air, and he licks his lips.

“Please,” I breathe, arching my back toward him. But he doesn’t tongue my nipple. I’m not even sure he knows how much I need for him to touch me.

With a quick tug, he unbuttons my jeans, and my zipper tracks slowly southward, the tines loud, our breathing and my heartbeat the only sounds in the room until the click, click, click begins. His hand slips beneath the waist of my panties, and he cups my mound. He doesn’t move, even when I rock my hips, trying to force his hand to slide between my lips. Oh God, please touch me.

Instead, he keeps his hand steady and still while his mouth touches mine. His kiss is as soft and gentle as the cup of his palm. My clit throbs, as though it’s reaching out for him since he won’t close the distance. I murmur against his lips. He lifts his head and looks down at me, his tongue still teasing my lower lip, licking across and into me. He pulls back, grinning confidently. “Something wrong?” he asks. His eyelids are half lowered, as if he’s drowsy. But I know he’s not. He’s fully alert…and waiting for me.

Breath heaves from my chest, and I bite my lip.

“My hands are full, so I can’t tug your lip free,” he says, laughing as he opens my mouth with his tongue and sucks my lower lip. I can’t keep up. I just can’t. “Better?” he asks.

I let my head fall back against the wall with a thud. “No, I’m not better.” I’m standing in the living room with my shirt open, my boobs presented to him like they’re on a plate, his hand down my panties and…nothing.

“You’re such an ass,” I snarl playfully. My ni**les hurt, they’re so hard. My panties are soaked, I’m sure. And he’s cool as he can be.

“You want me, right?” he asks, his eyebrows drawing together.

“No,” I lie. Logan slides a finger between my lips beneath my panties, and I breathe out a hiss. But he pulls his whole hand from my undies before he can stroke across my clit again. One touch? That’s all I get?

He lets my hands go long enough to push my shirt off my shoulders. He spins me to face the wall and unhooks my bra, letting it fall on the floor beside us. His hands slide into the waistband of my loosened jeans, and they track down my legs, along with my panties.

“No Betty Boop?” he asks. I used to wear Betty Boop panties before. But Madison Avenue doesn’t make cartoon undies.

He stops to pull my boots off and pushes my jeans and panties down over my feet. His lips touch the back of my knee, and I grow lightheaded at the sensation of his touch. It has been so long.