* * *
I feel so good when I wake up. My body is heavy from a deep, satisfying sleep, and my mind doesn’t immediately race to the next task on my to-do list. I reach out and curl my arm around?—
Logan?
I open my eyes. Logan’s underneath me. Underneath me. My head’s on his chest, and my hand’s on his bare bicep. Our legs are intertwined and?—
Why am I on top of him?
I look around. We’re on his couch at the cottage. Last night’s events slowly return to my consciousness. The diary entries—God, that was intense and unplanned—and then he gave me that amazing painting.
I remember I said I was hungry, so Logan went into the kitchen, and when he returned, I had the TV on some cable channel.
“Ah, vintage Dallas.” Logan sat next to me and handed me a spoon. “My mom’s favorite old show.”
“Mama’s, too.”
I looked at the ice-cream container on his lap.
“Banana Split.” I dug into the pint. “Yum.”
“Is J.R. shot yet?” Logan asked as his spoon bumped mine while we both reached for ice cream. “Is Bobby dead? Or is he alive again?”
“Looks like it’s an early year,” I said. “None of those sacred events have happened yet.”
“Well, thank God.” He grinned. “I don’t want to miss a thing.”
An hour later, the ice cream was gone. I remember feeling so sleepy. I yawned a couple of times. And that’s the last thing I remember. We must have fallen asleep.
Fine. So that’s a fairly innocent reason for how we slept together.
But why am I completely on top of him like we’re about to have sex?
I reach over to push back a stray lock of his hair, which is all tousled. His cheeks are flushed with sleep and his long thick lashes are keeping the morning sun from waking him. He looks adorable. But I have to get up. I must get up.
The thing is, when I try, I realize he’s…aroused. Even though his eyes are closed and I don’t know if his happy state is because of me or if he’s dreaming about Gigi. Or maybe it’s just a morning thing. This is all so uncomfortable, and I can’t move because of his specific body part, and?—
His phone rings in his jeans pocket.
He doesn’t budge. Trying to avoid his crotch, I reach into his pocket and pull his phone out.
Gigi’s smiling face is on the screen.
I hold the ringing phone up to Logan’s ear.
Now he wakes up.
His eyes get big when he notices me on top of him.
“Gigi,” he says into the phone. “Um…I’m just getting up. Yep. Of course I didn’t forget. I’ll be there in a half hour.”
He throws the phone onto the ground and puts his hands on my hips. “I’ll help you off me.”
The day-old stubble on his face just adds to his hotness meter, and I have to resist reaching out and running my hand over his jaw.
“The thing is—” I bite back a smile. “You must have been having a good Gigi dream because you’re effectively pinning me in place here.”
He blushes and lifts me up off of him enough that I can safely leave the couch without hurting his manhood.
