“Logan,” I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders. “I need—I need you.”
“I’ve got you,” he promises, reaching for the nightstand and pulling out a condom.
I watch as he rolls it on, my heart pounding with want and anticipation and something deeper I’m not quite ready to name.
Then he’s back, settling between my thighs, the head of him pressing against me.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
I do.
And when he finally sinks into me—slow, careful, giving me time to adjust—his eyes locked on mine, I feel whole in a way I never have before.
Not because he completes me—I’m learning I was always complete on my own.
But because for the first time, I’m choosing this. Choosing him. Choosing pleasure without pain, intimacy without fear, connection without control.
“Okay?” he asks, holding completely still even though I can see the strain in his jaw, the tension in his arms.
“More than okay,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Move. Please move.”
He does, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, and the friction is exquisite. I arch beneath him, meeting his rhythm, and he groans my name like a prayer.
“Tessa,” he breathes, and there’s so much in that one word—awe, desire, reverence, and something more profound.
“I’m here,” I whisper back, my hands framing his face. “I’m right here with you.”
He kisses me as he moves, deep and claiming, and I kiss him back with everything I have. Our bodies find a rhythm together—slow at first, then building, heat and friction and pleasure spiraling higher with every thrust.
His hand slides between us again, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I cry out, my body arching.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my lips. “Let go, Tessa. I’ve got you.”
The pleasure builds and builds until it crests, crashing over me in waves that make me shake, make me gasp his name, and make me hold him like he’s the only solid thing in a spinning world.
“Fuck,” Logan groans, his rhythm faltering as my body clenches around him. “Tessa?—”
“Let go,” I whisper the same words he gave me.
He does, burying his face in my neck as he comes, my name a broken sound on his lips.
We stay like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.
And I am fully present, utterly alive, and completely his.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
LOGAN
Iwake up to the best sight I’ve ever seen in my life.
Tessa, naked in my bed, the morning sun streaming through the window and painting her skin gold. Her blond hair is spread across my pillow, her face peaceful in sleep, one hand curled beneath her cheek.
Last night was… fuck. There aren’t words for what last night was.
We made love three times—slow and gentle the first time, learning each other. Faster the second, more desperate, less careful. And the third time, in the early hours of the morning, she’d climbed on top of me, taken control, and ridden me until we both came so hard I saw stars.
