Free Smart, Sexy and Secretive by Tammy Falkner Page A

down at me.
“Why are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this early?” he asks.
He props a hand beneath his head so he can look down at my
face.
    “ I can assure you there’s
nothing bushy about my tail.” I took care of that with a day at the
spa before I came back to New York. I laugh when he chuckles and
growls, rolling me beneath him. He tosses the covers over his head
and inches down my body.
    “ What are you doing?” I ask.
I quickly realize he can’t hear me, and I tap his shoulder. He
tosses the covers back and looks up. “What are you doing?” I ask
again.
    “ I didn’t get to see enough
of your non-bushy tail last night.” He grins and works magic with
his fingertips. “Not bushy at all,” he says.
    His lips rest right above where the
triangle of private hair would be if I hadn’t just had a wax, and
he kisses me softly. I squirm because what he’s doing feels really
good, but I’m also mortified by the intimacy of his actions. He
acts like my body has been his since the beginning of time. Like
there’s no thought of indecency or embarrassment between us. I like
it. I like it a lot. I can imagine him having this same intimacy
and more with my body when we’re both old and gray. When we’re
helping one another shower rather than having sex in the shower.
When we’re bedridden instead of lying in bed making one another
sweat. I can already imagine it. And I love it.
    Yes, it frightens me sometimes. What
sane woman wouldn’t be scared to death of a man who can make her
feel the way Logan makes me feel? No one.
    I love this man. I love every part of
him. And he apparently loves every part of me if his questing
fingers and his foolish grin are any indication.
    I tap his shoulder. “You’re going to
have to let me up.”
    His eyebrows draw together. “Why?” He
parts my lower lips and blows across the center of me, and my feet
arch of their own volition.
    A blush creeps up my face. It’s
absolutely absurd to be embarrassed when his fingers are inside me,
but I really have to pee. “I need to go to the
bathroom.”
    He grins and flips me over. I think
he’s helping me get up, but he’s not. He climbs on top of me and
straddles my thighs. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my
neck. “Let’s try something new,” he says. And then he does. And
it’s magical.
    Logan says my name over and over, and I
stretch out across the sheets. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t
talk. He falls down beside me. His breaths are harsh, and he’s
struggling to compose himself as much as I am.
    “ Do you still need to pee?”
he asks with a chuckle.
    “ I might if I could move,” I
say. He tweaks my nose and laughs. It’s a throaty sound, and it
makes me so happy to hear it. “Where did you learn that?” I ask. I
realize my mistake as soon as I make it.
    He shrugs and avoids my gaze. I reach
for him, making myself come out of my post-coital stupor, and I
climb up on his chest, elbowing him so that he winces and I can
take his mind off my mistake. I don’t want him to feel guilty for
his past. I can’t change it. And right now, I’m damn glad he has
one because I’ve never had an experience like that. Just think what
I was missing.
    “ You have pointy elbows,” he
says, pulling my arms to my sides so I fall flat on his chest. I
stick my chin into him and laugh. “And your chin, too.” He tousles
my hair playfully. “Death by elbow impalement,” he says. He has
dismissed my earlier moment of insanity with my stupid question.
Good.
    “ Sorry I was being nosy,” I
say quietly.
    “ You can ask me anything you
want,” he says. He looks into my eyes. “But you can’t get mad at me
when I give you the answers.” He arches a blond eyebrow. “Do you
really want to know where I learned that?”
    I push off of him. “No.”
    He chuckles. “Wait,” he says, pulling
me back on top of him. “I learned it from a men’s health magazine,
silly.” He laughs. “I wasn’t even sure it