The Trouble With Quarterbacks(68)

“I’m not sure. They went out to the VIP bar.”

Sure enough, when I duck around him to glance at the rest of the gang, everyone’s gone. They’ve left us!

Logan keeps hold of my waist and starts walking us back to the chair he was sitting in. I let him, because…well, it gets exhausting trying to keep a distance. I’ve only got so much strength left in these weary bones, and if he’s intent on having me sit down on his lap, who am I to argue?

“There’s plenty of other seating,” I tease.

He smiles and adjusts me so my knees go on either side of his hips.

Well, that’s quite a wonderful position, I’d say. It’s like he planned it perfectly.

“I don’t know how I feel about this outfit,” he says, glancing over me.

I’m tempted to cover up, but I force myself to keep my hands where they are, resting on his shoulders.

“Do you like it?”

“No.” My bottom lip pouts and he shakes his head. “When I walked in and saw you up on the DJ booth, I felt pretty territorial. It’s part of the reason I dragged you up here.”

“Oh, don’t want other lads having a look?”

“Not of my girlfriend, no.”

That word is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth, so I lean in and kiss him quickly before pulling away.

Oh. He doesn’t like that. His eyes narrow in disapproval and his grip tightens on my waist.

“It’s just a skirt.”

“Yeah?” he asks, moving his hands to gather the stretchy material and drag it up my thighs. “Maybe it’s not so bad after all.”

I can’t look down. I’ll pass out.

He adjusts me so I sit higher on his lap, and I feel him start to harden underneath me. It’s like he can’t help it, not with me on him like this.

“And the top?” I ask, wanting to continue our game.

His eyes flit up to my chest. “Is that what you’re calling it? It’s more like a bra with sleeves.”

“Oh hardly. Half the girls downstairs are dressed even more skimpy than this!”

He hums from deep in his throat then reaches up to trace the V-neck of my top with one hand. He follows the way it cuts low over my breasts. I didn’t think it was so indecent, but then his hand skims over the sensitive skin there and I shiver.

He dips down to the center of my chest and follows the fabric up on the other side before hooking a finger into the edge and peeling the material back just a smidge, revealing more of my lace bra and cleavage.

I swallow and try not to fidget, letting him do what he pleases. I know he’s the one in control, even if I’m the one on top.

The corner of his mouth perks up. “Yeah, I see your point. Maybe I do like this outfit.”

He keeps touching me, adjusting my top on the other side too so more of the sheer parts of my bra are exposed.

“The others could come back at any moment,” I whisper, trying to talk some sense into him. We can’t just do this in the middle of a club! Even if we are in a private suite!

“I asked them not to.”

I blink at his response, more than a little taken aback.

Then he leans forward and kisses his way around the edge of my bra. His lips touch my skin, and my eyes flutter closed as all my arguments dissipate into thin air. He traces delicately along each cup before tugging the thin material to the side completely. Lace scrapes over my breasts, and cool air hits my chest before his mouth follows.

“Logan.”

I breathe his name like he’s my life force, and he continues on like that, teasing one breast then the other. My fingers grip into his shoulders, using him to anchor me.

It feels like we’ve gotten here so fast, me half-naked on his lap, but then again, it feels like it’s been too long…too long since his hands have been on me like this, too long since his mouth has peeled apart my senses.

His tongue laps over the peak of each breast and then he pulls back to survey me. I know I’m pink and flushed, and I know he likes it. He rolls his hips so that I grind down on him, and then I lean forward to kiss him. Everything before has been a lead-in to this. Our mouths touch, and it’s the last chance we have to gather our senses. Stop now or don’t stop at all.

Neither one of us tries to move away.

He keeps a grip on my waist, rocking me back and forth across his hard length. With my skirt tugged up, it’s only my knickers covering me, and I can feel him so well. The rigid outline is enough to send me over the edge, but we don’t make it there. This is only a teaser, and he won’t let me get too ahead of myself. Any time I work myself up and really start moving on him, grinding and kissing him harder, he slows us down.

Then he moves his mouth somewhere else. Down to my neck. Over my breasts. Back up to my mouth. I’m going insane. I am. I think I might cry from his wicked lips, but then his hand moves between my legs and hooks onto the edge of my panties so he can tug them aside and I fall back, breaking our kiss and setting my hands on either of his knees. I’m so exposed like this, but that’s what I want. I want him to have all the access in the world as his finger slides into me. I clench around him, and the sound he makes…I could pray at the altar of Logan Matthews. Truly. I’m lost in him as he slides his finger out and then back in, his lovely long finger and the way it drives me mad.