The sounds—her moans, the wet, slick pull of her around me—drove me wild. I grunted and pulled her tighter, my lips dragging across her neck before my teeth sank into her skin, claiming her in a way I’d only ever dreamed.
Her hand shot back, gripping my face, holding me there.
I pushed her forward, letting her fall face-down onto the mattress before flipping her over in one swift move. I caught her leg, hiked it over my shoulder, and sank back into her with no warning.
“Logan,” she gasped, her hands fisting the sheets.
I crushed my mouth to hers as I picked up where I left off—harder, deeper, faster.
The bed creaked and rocked beneath us, its rhythm no match for ours. I caught her other leg and hooked it over my other shoulder, bending her in half beneath me.
Her moans spiraled higher, her body clenching tight—so fucking tight—around me.
And then she shattered.
Her walls locked around me, squeezing me like a damn vice as her orgasm ripped through her.
I followed, helpless to stop it, as I came with a groan that tore from deep inside. I stayed buried in her, hips jerking, giving her everything I had.
We collapsed together, breathless and tangled, sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other.
One thing was certain, I would never be the same again.
Leaning down, I cupped her face and kissed her with everything I had—need, passion, and obsession.
36
ELLIE
We didn’t leave the room all night.
Again and again, Logan brought me to the brink of pleasure and never let up, not until we were both spent and the early morning hours crept in, the clock ticking past three, maybe four.
My body ached in the most delicious way, a way I’d never known before. But more than that, my heart was full.
I felt heavy and light all at once, wrapped in the lingering scent of Logan, buried in his sheets, skin bare beneath the soft cotton. Every breath I took was laced with him, every inch of my body kissed by memory.
This feeling, so warm and consuming, could only be one thing. Love.
I felt loved.
Truly, deeply, wholly.
Last night, Logan made me feel wanted in a way that unraveled something long-hidden inside me. His focus was on me—on my pleasure, my needs. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his fingers, was a worship. And of course, I returned the favor.
I found myself on my knees, his hand cradling the back of my head as he praised me over and over, telling me how beautiful I looked, how good I made him feel until his pleasure poured from him, undone by me.
If this was what it felt like to have someone’s undivided attention, it was healing.
I used to think you couldn’t be healed from heartbreak by something as fickle as new love. But maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe new love wasn’t fickle at all—perhaps it was a second chance.
What was happening between Logan and me… I didn’t know what to call it. And maybe I didn’t need to define it.
Right now, I just felt happy.
Looking at him through this new lens, I realized I’d been blind before. Somewhere along the way, I missed the chance to see the man right in front of me. The man who knew how to touch my body and, more importantly, cradle my soul.
I stretched out in the bed, sprawling like a starfish, expecting to find his leg beside mine. When I didn’t, I blinked my eyes open and turned my head.
