When I finally pull back, my breath’s ragged.
“Fine. But I’ve got rules.”
“She’s got rules,” he echoes, grinning.
“No last names. No numbers. One night, and then that’s it. We’re gone by the morning. And—you’re safe, right?”
He nods solemnly. “Darlin’, I haven’t had a night like this in forever. I wouldn’t mess it up. And I’m clean as hell if that’s what you’re asking. If you need some recent results, here you go. I can pull up a?—”
“I trust you,” I whisper, interrupting him. “But just know…if you fuck this up somehow, I’ve got multiple very big brothers who will find you. And possibly kill you.”
His eyes stay locked on mine. “My intentions are pure.” A beat passes. “Well, pure-ish. I’ll call a Lyft.”
Speaking of pure…the Lyft is pure tension.
Not a word between us as we slide into the back seat, doors thudding shut like the closing of a pact we both know we’re about to honor. The driver says something—maybe confirms our destination—but I don’t hear a word. All I know is the heat of Logan’s thigh against mine and the way his hand finds my knee like it belongs there.
And then we’re on each other.
My back hits the door as his mouth claims mine, hungry and unhurried all at once. His hand tangles in my hair. My fingers find his shirt, pulling him closer, pulling himnow. His kiss is thorough, commanding. The kind that makes you forget you ever told yourself you had rules.
I laugh against his mouth—breathless and half-drunk on adrenaline.
Three and a half years with a man, and not once did we make out in the back of a damn Lyft. Not like this. Not withthis much heat andwant,and the kind of recklessness that feels suspiciously like freedom.
This? This is telling.
Logan kisses down my jaw, his breath warm against my skin, his hand grazing my bare thigh just beneath the hem of my shorts.
“Let’s wait,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “Until the hotel.”
He pulls back instantly—his restraint almost more seductive than the kiss itself. Eyes dark, chest rising like he’s holding back a wave.
“Good idea,” he says, his voice gravelly and hot.
A song hums low through the car stereo. Something smoky and slow, a little bluesy, a little wild. I recognize it, but I can’t place it. Not with the chaos in my bloodstream.
He threads his fingers through mine, resting our hands on his thigh over his jeans.
I shift. His thigh twitches, and that’s when I feel it.
Hard. Hot. Pressed beneath denim that’s doing aterriblejob hiding anything.
Oh, my.
My breath catches, and my whole body goes still for a second, like I’ve touched something sacred and dangerous at the same time.
Desire flares inside me, low and sharp, curling in my belly.
This man is about to wreck me in the best possible way.
And I think Iwanthim to.
My eyes turn up to him, and he’s smirking.
“Eight inches and change, if you’re wondering.”
My mouth drops open. Then shuts again. Like my brain short-circuited and restarted withonlyenough power to blush.
