The misgivings I’d had about tempering my feelings afterward slid from my mind, replaced with the sheer tactile yumminess that was Logan. He was hard and toned and hairy and soft, and smelled so good even though it had now been a few hours since he’d showered after the game.
I rolled to my back so I could free my arm that was pinned between our bodies. One hand was not enough to explore his body. Though I would have loved to peel his tee from his sculpted torso, that he’d already gotten rid of it only sped up my exploration. His shoulders and forearms flexed as he shifted to be on top of me, holding himself up to look down at me.
Taking one hand, he scooped up my mass of hair (I’d pulled it out of its bun in the bathroom) and pushed it up onto his pillow so that it pooled around my head and was, thankfully, out of the way of my moving to touch him even more.
“Wait. Let me,” he said when I moved to shove the bulk of it behind me to allow for more freedom. I probably should have left it up, but thought this was sexier, if not a pulling hazard.
He sat up on his haunches, straddling my hips. “Let’s get rid of this bulky, heavy sweater—you must be dying of heat exhaustion,” he said.
My sweater was thin, and not in any way bulky, nor did it make me overheated. If Iwasoverheated, we both knew it wasn’t from my sweater. I laughed and held my arms up, crunching a tiny bit to get my back off the bed. When he peeled it off me and tossed it across the room, I exaggeratedly said, “Ooh,somuch better.”
He laughed and continued on to the fly of my jeans. When he raised a questioning brow, I nodded and he undid them. He stepped from the bed as he pulled off my jeans, throwing them in the general direction of my sweater.
I was lying on his bed in my best bra and panty set. A delicate lace and silk combination in a soft lilac.
They had been part of the off-to-college shopping I’d done with my mom last year. I hadn’t thought we’d do the lingerie part together, or at least not the sexy kind, but she’d suggested it, saying a girl needed at least three good sets of frilly, girly matching bras and panties, beyond the practical cotton stuff that I wore daily.
“Megan. Hey, Megan, stay with me,” Logan said from where he stood at the side of the bed.
He was attuned to me enough to know that I’d just had a flash.
I looked at his body, watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and stamped them down his legs and off, standing in black boxer briefs that hugged his spectacular ass and muscled thighs.
That sight was enough to pull me out of a mini grief rabbit hole.
“I’m good,” I said. “More than good.”
He smiled and climbed back onto the bed, taking up his position of only moments ago, straddling me, sitting back on his haunches, that great ass hovering right on my thighs. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. Momentary memory. Gone now.” I wanted to be as honest with Logan as he’d been with me. “You pulled me out of it.”Brutallyhonest. “Actually, your amazing body pulled me out of it. God, you’re gorgeous, Logan.”
He scoffed. Actually scoffed. “Pfft. What do you know from gorgeous?I’mlooking at gorgeous.” He once again gathered my hair onto his pillow, fanning it out. “Jesus,” he whispered. “That hair, Megan. Even straightened, I’d know it anywhere.”
I hadn’t straightened it tonight, choosing to put it up in a topknot for the game, but I guessed he was talking about the first night we met, here in this house. Though his phrasing seemed kind of odd.
He leaned forward, bracing himself on his forearms near my head, careful not to land on any of my hair. His fingers sifted through it while his face came to mine, nose to nose.
“Hi,” he said on a sigh.
“Hi,” I answered just as softly. Our mouths were so close, and even though we’d just been kissing moments ago, it felt like I’d never tasted him before and was dying to.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Finally.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Meg—” My name was cut off by my mouth on his. I was unable to wait until he finished the syllable before I tasted him again.
His fingertips grasped the side of my head, like he didn’t dare let me go, as he deepened the kiss. Again, I tasted mint and realized he’d probably just brushed his teeth for bed when I texted. I knew I probably tasted of beer, but he didn’t seem to mind, if the way he devoured me was any indication.
I slid one of my hands up his forearm and around his neck, and my other down his chest, angling it downward as I did. His groan let me know I was on the right track, as did hitting the waistband of his briefs.
“Wait, I have to see you,” he said, shifting enough for us to get my bra off me, and it joined my growing pile of clothes on his floor.
He came back over me, but leveraged himself higher to see my tits. “Christ, but you’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to cup one in his big hand. When he brushed a thumb over my hardening nipple, I shuddered and he smiled. “You like my touch.”
“Verymuch,” I said. I was all in on the honesty, it seemed.
“That’s good, because I very much like touching you.”
