Shit, I didn’t want Ray to see the boner I sported. I hastily helped Logan off the counter. She wobbled and grabbed me, then let go. Wide-eyed she stared at me as I took a seat on the barstool and discreetly readjusted my aching sex.
I could still feel her silky, soft flesh against my tongue—I bit back another groan. Big mistake, tasting her. Now my cock just plain fucking hurt trapped behind the confines of my jeans.
“Ila, you seen my flip-flops?” Ray called out from the living room.
“Yes, in the corner near the couch, by the window.”
“You okay?” I asked Logan quietly. Her golden skin was flushed, like she’d been thoroughly fucked—even if it was only from my mouth—which made me feel possessive as hell. Nodding, she turned around to the percolator. Her hand shook slightly as she poured coffee into the mugs.
Ray walked in, raking her cap of damp hair. She opened the fridge. “I’m hungry—how about some toasted sandwiches?”
Logan cut me a quick look, then her gaze widened in horror. I glanced at the counter and saw her tiny black lace panties I’d tossed there.
Grinning, I grabbed them and shoved them into my jeans pocket as Ray approached, arms piled high with the makings for the sandwiches—cheese, tomatoes, cold cuts of meat, mayo, and whatever else—and dropped her load on the counter in front of me.
“Thanks,” Logan mouthed.
I shook my head, pressing a hand to my lips, hiding my smile.
As our impromptu meal progressed, I watched Logan while she ate her sandwich, pretending I was nothing more than Ray’s friend, nothing toher. And I realized I couldn’t give in to her demands. Sure, I’d give her the illusion of a no-strings-attached sexual relationship, but I would have what I wanted. Her.
The meal over and the kitchen tidied up, Ray yawned and said goodnight, disappearing up the stairs.
Logan grasped my hand, her eyes taking on a golden glow of desire. “Come on, your turn.” She pulled me toward the stairs.
“Logan, wait.” At her questioning look, I kissed her lips that were still slightly swollen from my sensual attack earlier. “I must have lost my mind—but, no.”
She blinked. “What do you mean, no?”
I have a lot more riding on this, sweet Logan. I come in there, and I lose everything I want.
Lines furrowed her smooth, tan brow. “You want me, I want you, it’s why we’re both here. What else is there?”
Exactly. She refused to look for anything deeper—anything that could make her heart emerge from the steel cage she’d trapped it in. Usually, my dick led the way, and I pretty much followed. But it was different with her. Even though she kept shutting me out, something inside me had fastened on her and refused to let go.
Strange, considering I loved no one but my mother. So whatever this was that I felt for her, I was determined to hang on to it.
Instead of laying out all my confused emotions, I lowered my head to hers, a whisper of a breath away from her lips. The anticipation was the best thing about waiting, knowing I could finally have her in my arms, in my bed—or hers, for now.
I brushed my lips against hers. “Good night, dancing girl. Dream of me.”
Aware of her confusion, I rested my arm on the bannister and watched as she climbed the stairs.
She wanted sex only. I wantedher.
Now to convince her I wasn’t anything like that loser ex of hers.
Chapter Nine
Max
“Home, sweet home!” Ray piped up with a sleepy yawn from the back of the Jeep as I drove into the tarred driveway of the Logan family residence late Friday afternoon. Seated beside me, Logan cut me a quick look, her lips quirking in a little smile. It took everything in me not to haul her close and kiss her tempting mouth.
Two long days had passed with just stolen kisses between us since Ray was home, and when she wasn’t, Logan was stuck in the studio with the silver fox. Or off consoling her friend Charli. But I was grateful the pinup asshole was still away. At the thought of her painting him, his naked body on display, anger simmered awake.
Pushing away thoughts that would screw with my head, I switched off the engine and took in the neatly trimmed front lawn and the paved path leading to the few stairs up to the sheltered porch. Lights brightened the gray-trimmed windows of the white, picturesque, two-story building with its steeped, slate-gray roofline. The place had a tranquil feel to it.
I headed for the back of the Jeep and removed the bags when the front door opened and a tall, well-built, older man with short, dark brown hair walked out.
