idea.” He’d just had a nightmare about killing a man for Christ’s sake. Sex was the last thing on my mind.
He pulled his hand as though he’d been burned. “So you are afraid of me.”
“Of course I’m not.” I brought my hand up to cup his cheek.
“Then you’re disgusted with me.”
“That’s not it either.” I sat up in bed, now completely awake.
He squeezed his eyes closed, as if willing the images from his nightmare to disappear as suddenly as his memory did. “But you won’t let me touch you.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I’d wanted him to touch me since his first night here. Not like this though, not because he was terrified and needing comfort. When I met his eyes, all my objections melted away. He watched me like I was something incredibly precious to him. I was stuck by the realization that if I turned him away now, I’d be validating his thoughts that he was nothing but a monster.
I took his hand and placed it on my chest, letting him feel the pounding of my heart. His eyes widened momentarily, as he felt its insistent thumping. My body wanted nothing more than his touch, but because I’d just refused him a second before, I didn’t know what to say.
“Logan,” his name slipped from my lips and it was all that needed to be said.
He lowered me to the pillow once again, and pinned me to the bed, kissing and nuzzling my neck. His stubble scratched against my skin and I inhaled the scent of his aftershave, trying to memorize this moment.
He hauled me up to a sitting position and removed my shirt, throwing it to the floor. I liked that he didn’t ask; he just did what he wanted, all with perfect skill. His gaze lowered to my chest, and his hands joined the inspection, softly running his fingertips along the bottom swells of my breasts, dipping between my cleavage, circling my nipples, but never touching them.
Heat and dampness flooded between my legs and I released a small whimper.
“Shh. I’ll make it better,” he whispered.
He lowered his head and kissed my breasts in the same pattern, everywhere but where I needed him. When my panting grew heavier, he finally slid his tongue across my nipple and I arched my back, pressing my breasts forward into his mouth. His tongue lapped slow, easy circles while he pushed my breasts together with his hands. I’d never had so much attention paid to my breasts before, and never knew it would make me so hot.
I snaked my hands underneath his shirt, and ran my hands across his abs, loving the solid feel of him. I hauled his shirt over his head and it joined mine on the floor. He continued kissing me and the effect of his skin, warm and soft, against mine drove me over the edge. I wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust my hips into his, grinding against him. I released a strangled cry at the contact.
After kissing me for several minutes more while I continued to grind against him, he reached between us and pushed my panties down my thighs. Thank God. I was ready. I reached for his waistband, but he shook his head. “Not yet.”
I swallowed and placed my hands by my sides, nodding like a good girl. I didn’t want to do anything to drive him away. Not when I so badly needed the release he could give me. “Logan,” I moaned loudly, frustration and sexual tension evident in my voice.
“I know, baby.” He kissed my forehead and lowered himself to his elbows, positioning himself between my legs. He pulled my legs apart suddenly, and held them there. I was completely exposed, and on display for his inspection, but I didn’t feel self-conscious in that moment. I wanted everything he could give me.
Just like that first night, he spread me open, sliding his fingers up and down the length of my wetness. I loved how unrushed he was. With the two other men I’d been with, it’d been a sprint to the finish line, they hurried to get inside me, to get off and then get out. Logan only seemed concerned with drawing out my pleasure, like the