However, it was Logan who had the distinct privilege of being the man to capture her attention. The two of them had been inseparable that summer—and Lacy had wanted to know why.
Then she’d found out. Oh man, had she found out.
She had followed the couple as they left the annual Fourth of July picnic at the public beach early and returned to Gladys’ lake house. Peering through the bedroom window, Lacy had seen Yvette on her knees, her hands bound behind her as she gave Logan a blowjob. That ended when Logan picked her up, placed her facedown over his lap and started spanking her. She might have worried, if Yvette hadn’t been begging for more, her expression one of total bliss.
Lacy had been equal parts horrified and turned on. At seventeen, she’d only just begun to truly discover her sexuality. That day had molded her fantasies, sparked feelings she had never had the opportunity to explore, and ignited cravings she had never wanted to indulge in with anyone other than Logan.
The deejay announced the last dance at the same time Evan’s phone rang. “It’s Annie. I need to take this.” He stepped outside to take the call from his wife, leaving her alone with Logan.
“Want to dance?” she asked.
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure. Why not?”
She fought down her annoyance at the realization he was just humoring her.
Then she decided it was time to set the record straight.
Maybe he was determined to cast her in the role of little sister, and maybe he was determined to keep his hands off her because of some stupid teenage vow, and maybe he was still getting over his last girlfriend—but enough was enough.
There was no way Logan Grady was leaving here tonight without the knowledge that she was an experienced, available, and completely fuckable woman who was more than capable of keeping up with him in the bedroom. She refused to take one more second of his condescending pats on the head that made her feel eternally eight years old.
He took her in his arms, maintaining a polite distance that she instantly broached. He stiffened briefly as she pressed her breasts firmly against his chest. His hands rested lightly on her waist, the touch platonic, boring. She didn’t follow suit as she wrapped her hands around his neck, letting her fingers play with his hair. It was even thicker than it looked.
Lifting up on her tiptoes, she lightly ran her lips along his neck. Logan’s hands tightened, and for a moment, she expected him to push her away. Instead, he surprised her, letting his fingers drift around her back until he’d managed to split the difference between touching her waist and her ass.
Then he used his grip to tug her closer, letting her feel his erection pressed against her stomach—and it occurred to Lacy her plan was backfiring. She hadn’t anticipated Logan returning her touches. In her mind, she would leave him hot and bothered, his punishment for failing to acknowledge her as a woman.
So much for that idea.
Her pussy clenched and her nipples tightened when his hands drifted even lower, his palms molding themselves to her ass.
Unable to resist, she glanced up and found him looking at her curiously.
“How much have you had to drink?” he asked.
“Not much.”
Not enough.
She’d been relatively sober when they’d stepped on the dance floor, but now she felt wasted, her legs stumbling, barely able to hold herself upright under his sensual touches, and her brain was fuzzy from a system overload of arousal.
She kept one hand in his hair as the other traveled along his chest, her fingers digging into the muscles she found along the way. She didn’t stop until her hand rested on the buckle of his belt, less than an inch away from his cock.
His hands tightened on her ass and she released a soft sigh.
“You know what you’re doing?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t so sure anymore. Originally, she’d thought she was seducing him. Now it felt like he was seducing her. And she was responding to it.
He left one hand on her ass as he lifted the other to the side of her neck. He lightly ran one fingertip along the neckline of her top. The shirt dipped low, revealing a healthy amount of cleavage. Macie had taken one look at her when she’d arrived at the party and wolf-whistled at what she’d jokingly referred to as Lacy’s hootchie-mama shirt.
Logan paused when he hit the cleavage. “Nice shirt.”
For the first time in her life, it felt like Logan was looking at her.
And really seeing her.
Reaching up, she grasped the hand still hovering above her breast and pressed his palm against it. She didn’t have a clue where she’d found the outright boldness, but opportunities like this had been too few and far between. She couldn’t run the risk of Logan finding another girlfriend and moving her in for three long-ass years before she took her shot.
