“Maybe not comfortable then.” He frowns. “In control? I know exactly who I am there. I know it’s where I belong.”
And I know it’s not where I belong. I thank the server when she brings us more injera, grateful for the distraction. WhenI turn back to Logan, he’s smiling at me.
“What?” I ask. “If you’re going to judge my injera intake, please wait until the end. I’m not done yet.”
“You’re so sweet with the wait staff,” he says. “Well, actually, you’re sweet with everyone. You’re a good person, Sierra.”
Oof. “Logan…”
“It’s true. Anyway, tell me about when you were a waitress.”
I gladly accept the change of subject. Before long, I have Logan laughing as I share stories from my restaurant jobs and all the crazy scenarios that occur in the food industry. He takes my free hand at one point, and his thumb brushes slowly across my skin, making my heart race. Warmth sizzles through my veins at the way he looks at me.
It feels a lot like a date.
I’m not naive. I can tell he’s already fallen for me again, that he would love to believe that this is more than just a weird coworker-slash-roommate-slash-sex relationship triad.
Logan is wrong about me, though—I’m not a good person. If I were, I would put a stop to this before I hurt him again. But since I’m not, here we are.
We finish up lunch and hang a few more flyers around campus before heading back.
Logan drives back, his thumb drumming against the steering wheel in time to the music. “My family has a dinner tomorrow night,” he says. “It’s a monthly thing we do with my parents. I’d like you to come with me.”
“I thought we agreed to keep this”—I gesture between us—“quiet.”
“I’d say we’re friends. My mom would love to see you. I think you would like to see her as well,” he says softly.
I grimace. “No, Logan.” Just thinking about seeing her tiesmy guts in knots.
“But…” He resumes his thumb tapping.
Logan is getting too dark again. Time for a distraction.
“Have you ever had a blow job while driving?” I ask.
The tapping stops. “What?” If the sound came from anyone less masculine, it would be described as a squeak.
I reach over to his lap. He glances down, startled, but he doesn’t remove his hands from the steering wheel.
I tease the button of his shorts and then pop it loose. “Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”
His eyes are enormous as they dart back and forth between me and the highway. “What if we crash?”
“It’s a mindless drive,” I say. “Straight highway. Not a lot of traffic.”
“What about highway patrolmen?” he asks as I pull down his zipper. His breath catches as I fold back the edges and free him from his boxers.
“Don’t speed.”
I lean over the console and let my warm breath cascade over him. My mouth waters as I close my lips around his smooth head. It hardens and lengthens in my mouth. I give it a tiny suck. The skin is so soft, satiny, and perfect. A moan escapes me as I draw him deeper into my mouth.
A hand tightens in my hair. “Sierra,” he groans. “Oh, baby. You know I want it, it’s just…it’s too dangerous.”
I release him with a pop. Then I tuck him back into his fly and zip him up.
“Wait, what?” he says. His face is slack with confusion and disappointment.
I shrug, trying my best to hide my smirk. “You’re right, it’s too dangerous.”
