They consume me, overwhelming my nervous system and leaving me gasping for air as my forehead drops to the space between his shoulders. A choked sound slips out as I try to grapple with their resurgence, each one slamming into me like a tidal wave before the next takes its place, but I can’t keep my head above the surface. Can’t swim against the current.
Can’t find a life preserver.
Because I was just fucking the man who buoys me like he was nothing, when he’s my goddamn everything.
“Baby? What’s—”
“Logan.”
His name rips from my throat on something of a plea whiletears spill down my face. Still, I struggle to hold myself together. To harness some sort of control over the torment sweeping through me, hellbent on leaving chaos and calamity in its wake.
But it’s useless.
“Hey, hey. Baby, look at me.Lookat me.”
I shake my head, and Logan’s palms cup my face, the heat of his skin seeping into my own as he wipes away my tears. I don’t even know when he moved, turning to face me, only that I can’t fucking look at him and see—
“What do you need?”
Another strangled sound works its way out of me at hearing those words echoed back to me. They eviscerate the part of me that thought maybe I’d get past these feelings for him and move on, or at the very least, remove myself from them enough to enjoy feeling him again. Touching him like he’s mine, even though he isn’t.
“Talk to me, Cam. What do you need?” he asks again, brushing his thumbs over my cheeks.
The contact with his skin grounds me, giving me the strength I need to lift my gaze, and through the blur of my tears, I find him staring at me with his brows knit together in concern. Not pain or anger or sadness. Just worry. And that makes me lose it even more as a single, grated word leaves my lips.
“You.”
“You have me,” he says instantly. “You have me, baby. I’m right here.”
I shake my head for what feels like a thousand times before leaning forward and claiming his mouth in a long, slow kiss. The salt from my tears mixes between our lips, the same way it did earlier, but Logan doesn’t seem put off by it. If anything, he just kisses me harder, deeper, as if the love flowing between us through our joined lips holds enough power to replace all the pain.
And, God, how I fucking wish it did.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper against his lips. My hands cup the sides of his face too, holding him like he’s made of glass or porcelain. “I love you. I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Shh, baby. I love you too. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
His mouth finds mine again, as if to drive his point home, and this time, I don’t have it in me to be gentle or slow with it. Even as tears continue cascading down my face, I kiss him deeper, sliding my fingers into his hair and locking him in place while my tongue slips between his lips to find its mate.
He lets out a soft little moan while kissing me back with the same amount of passion and need for me, and it sends my pulse into hyperdrive.
One hand leaves his head, dropping between us until I find his cock. He’s still semi-hard as my fingers wrap around his shaft, and it only takes a couple gentle tugs for him to be fully erect again. A little pant escapes our joined lips when I rub my thumb over the nerve beneath his crown, but his hand covers mine, halting my movements.
“We can stop—”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to stop. Not unless you do.”
Rather than answer, he kisses me again before pressing his hand to my chest hard enough for me to fall to my back. Wordlessly, he climbs over top of me, straddling my hips before leaning down and finding my mouth again. He kisses me fiercely while his arms bracket my head and his chest brushes against mine, using his body to completely envelop mine in the way he knows I love.
And it has my heart cracking in my chest a little more.
My hands find his waist, skimming over his skin to the globes of his ass, and kneading them in my palms. He lets out a little moan and grinds his cock against mine, sending a little bolt of lust down my spine that feels too fucking good. So good, I needmore of it—ofhim.
He must be on the same page, because he shifts enough for me to nestle my shaft between his cheeks, rutting against him like that before lining myself up with his hole. My hips cant upward, and my tip presses against the tight ring until it finally gives way, and I tunnel inside him with a few slow thrusts until I’m finally sheathed to the hilt. His forehead drops to mine, and the two of us moan in unison from the delicious pressure of him wrapped tightly around me before he starts to roll his hips.
And it’s nothing like it was a few minutes before.
Gone is the rough and brutal pounding, the frenzied need and rushed desire. Now, we’re all teasing tongues and gentle caresses. Smooth thrusts and…undeniable love.
