I rushed into the bathroom and pushed my hair to the side to unzip my blouse, and frowned. The zipper wouldn’t budge.
I twisted in the mirror, perching on the counter to try and see what the problem was, but I couldn’t get a good angle. I tried pulling the blouse off without unzipping, but there was no way that was happening. Finally I gave up and walked back out to the living room.
The game was on, but Logan wasn’t sitting on the couch. My stomach dropped to my knees when I found him shirtless, his bag open on the bed.
The muscles in his back flexed, moving under his skin like ripples as he reached for a new shirt. His pants were undone, slipping off his hip on the right side, showing the line of his boxer briefs.
My mouth went dry, and I forced my eyes down to the carpet. “Um, can you help me?” I spun as fast as humanly possible and pointed to the back of my blouse. “I can’t get this zipper undone.”
“Oh, yeah.” He walked over too fast to have remedied his state of undress.Had he even buttoned up his pants?
I shivered as his fingers brushed my neck.
“Sorry. Cold hands.”
I coughed. “No, it’s fine.”
He brushed my hair further to the side, leaving a trail of heat along my skin. “I think the fabric is stuck.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t move for me.”
He fiddled with the mechanism. “I don’t want to rip it.”
“Well, I have to take it off, so if it rips, I’ll get Jenna a new one.”
“This is Jenna’s?” He tugged on the fabric, and I nodded. “It looks good on you.”
My stomach swooped. “Thanks.”
Logan let out a grunt. “My fingers are too fat.” He did have large hands. “I’m just going to?—”
I gasped as his breath hit the back of my neck.
“—use my teeth.”
Logan’s lips tickled my skin as he caught the fabric and tugged. “Got it,” he murmured, his voice rumbling through me. His hands landed back on my shoulders, dragging the zipper down with deliberate care. The little metal teeth made a softtick-tick-ticksound as they parted. Cool air hit my skin as his fingertips brushed my spine.
When had I closed my eyes?
“What’s this from?” Logan parted the fabric, touching the middle of my back.
I swallowed, my throat thick. “Waterslide. I scraped the skin there, and the pigment never came back.”
“Hmm.” His hand still hovered, and gooseflesh pricked my skin.
I could have stepped away. Probably should have, but I didn’t. I stood there, waiting.
Logan’s hand trailed back up, tracing the knuckles of my spine, then pausing at the edge of the fabric. He brushed it over the edge of my shoulder, fingering the strap of my bra.
I tilted my head, exposing my neck, remembering what it felt like when his lips hovered there in the hall of the Palliser.
I sucked in a breath as he moved in closer. His left hand threaded through my hair, tilting my head further, and as hecurled over me, his lips finally meeting the tender skin stretched open for him, heat crackled through my veins.
My hand shot up, cupping his jaw, pulling him closer.
This. I wanted this. Something. Anything. Maybe we couldn’t get there in words at the moment, but in just a few short weeks, this connection we shared had grown to eclipse every other relationship in my life.
That realization sent a jolt down my spine. Did Logan feel the same way? He always seemed excited to talk, and he’d gone out of his way to help me, multiple times. Was that his way of telling me his feelings were changing, too? Was that why he was kissing me now?
