Page 88 of Man Flu

As I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, Logan’s teeth graze the skin of my neck like he’s hungry for me, and it’s the final push that forces my body to release and give into the combustion of a million exhilarating sensations. “Holy shit, holy shit, Logan, oh my—”

“Come for me, baby. Don’t let it stop.”

He’s still riding in full force, and I’m grappling the sheets so tightly my nails might tear through the fabric. It’s like an endless loop of orgasms as he spills into me.

Drops of sweat fall from Logan’s chest and dribble onto my breasts, acting like tiny triggering aftershocks that rock through my body.

Never. It has never felt like that for me … more intense than I imagined.

Logan collapses most of his weight to the side of me but lowers his chest to mine. His fingers comb through my hair, and he smiles as if he just won a twelve-inning game. “I thought you left. I thought I scared you away,” I tell him my thoughts from a half hour earlier.

“Nah, I was playing with you. I was going to make you sweat it out a little longer, but it’s seriously shitty outside.”

“Is playing hard to get your game?” I laugh softly, but he had to know he was stirring me up.

“I just needed to set the mood after your incident.” Clever. I find it mildly humorous he thought to do that … because separation was obviously needed between the humiliation and hotness.

“Do you actually have your things for the trip tomorrow?” I ask him.

“Of course, I do.”

“So, you just knew I was going to agree to let you sleep over tonight?” Am I that transparently desperate?

“I had no idea if that would be the case or not, but I wanted to be prepared if you happened to agree.”

“Are you homeless?” I’m not sure why the question spills out of my mouth, but I’ve just realized that I have no clue where he lives. Yet, he’s been here way more than any other man I have casually dated for just a week, and we haven’t even been on a real date. This is ridiculous. What am I doing?

“I am not homeless. I live about twenty minutes from here.”

“House, apartment, condo?” I question.

“A condo in a high-rise on top of a mall.”

“You live on top of the mall and haven’t invited me over?”

“I was thinking, after we go out on a first date, I’d invite you back to my place.”

Questions are pouring into my head. I think I’ve been simply infatuated with the idea of this former pro-athlete and his perfect package.

“Why are you really working as a temp?”

“I was bored.”

“Why not take up a hobby?”

Logan turns on his side to face me and props his head up with his fist. “Honestly?”

“I’d prefer that,” I tell him.

“A friend told me if I wanted to meet a woman, the best place to do it would be in a corporate office.”

I feel a little shaken by his statement. His only intention for taking a temporary job was to meet someone. I guess someone should have warned him it was slim pickings at the office he was being placed at. “I guess you got the raw end of that deal.”

“How so?” he asks. If he’s playing me, he’s playing me good right now.

“Well, you had a choice between Brielle and me, and unless you’re a one in a million type of guy who isn’t into the Miss America look-alike, why set your eyes on me?”

Logan looks taken aback by my comments, but I probably appear the same way because I’m confused and not so sure I like what I’ve just heard. “First, Brielle isn’t my type. She’s exactly like my ex-wife, and I’ve been avoiding the Brielles of the world since my divorce.”