“Fuck.”
Fuck is right. My mind immediately conjures memories of our night together. A night I replay often when I’m lying alone in bed with my vibrator.
“You okay?” Logan’s voice is low and raspy. It goes straight to my clit.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You sure?” he asks, his breath fanning over my ear, making my curls flutter.
Turning to face him, I find myself caged in against the shelves of dried goods. My chest brushes against his, and heat pools between my thighs. Logan’s gray eyes darken as he studiesmy face. He’s so close, I can smell the spice of the rum he was drinking on his breath, feel the swell of his muscles as he presses me against the shelves, one hand moving to my back so he can tug me closer to his body.
My breath hitches, and I have to hold back a moan when my nipples tighten and brush against his hard chest. He smells divine, and the feeling of him surrounding me is so overwhelmingly delicious, my eyes flutter closed.
“Angel…”
Logan’s breathing is labored, and if the hard length of him pressing against my hip is any indication, he’s as affected by our proximity as I am. When I lick my lips because I’m suddenly parched, Logan groans.
“Blair.” His breath feathers over my lips.
When did he get closer?
Opening my eyes, I gaze up at the man who rocked my world back in LA. The man I never thought I’d see again, let alone be spending time like this with. How did I get here? What the hell is happening?
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
My lips part with a little gasp, and a moment later, when I’ve made no move to push him away or indicate I don’t want this, his mouth crashes against mine with a hunger that stokes the little coals of desire in my belly into a roaring inferno.
It’s not a chaste kiss. It’s not gentle. It’s hunger and need and weeks and weeks of tension and evolving feelings. His full lips are demanding, and when I gasp against him, his tongue sweeps in, tangling with mine. The hand not pressing against my back moves to my head, then his long fingers are sinking into my curls, bracing me and cushioning me against the hard shelves at my back.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing closer. I need to be closer.
Logan groans when my hips roll, and he gives my hair a gentle tug, angling my head for better access. One of his thick hockey-player thighs pushes between my legs, and I find myself wishing I wasn’t wearing these thick fleece tights. I want him to dip his fingers between my thighs, push my panties to the side, and fuck me. I want to feel those calloused hands on every inch of my body again. I want…
“Did you get lost in there, Byrne?” Griffin shouts from the kitchen.
We pull away from each other just as Griffin wrenches the door open and pokes his head inside the pantry. His eyes widen at what he sees, then his mouth curves into a bright, very pleased smile.
“Pretend I was never here. As you were,” he says with a low chuckle, tapping the doorway and closing the door behind him.
“That idiot is never going to let me hear the end of this,” Logan says, chuckling as he rests his forehead against mine. His fingers flex before he pulls me back against his body and kisses me again.
It’s slower this time. Less frantic, and more controlled, but no less hot.
“We should probably take this stuff out there,” he says, grabbing a small container of sage before leaning down, reaching around me, and handing me a bag of brown sugar.
“Uh-huh. Yeah,” I supply, breathless and stupid.
Logan chuckles as he studies my stunned expression and presses another kiss to my lips. “Come on, angel.”
I run my hands over my hair and clothes, making sure I don’t look rumpled, then follow him out in a daze.
I am in so much trouble.
thirty
LOGAN
It’sthe day after Thanksgiving, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss yesterday. My head is focused on Blair as I tug on all my gear before dragging the special blackout jersey over my head for our themed game at home.
