When You're Ready (Ready #1)(43)

“Oh God!” I cried, as he rolled my nipple with his tongue, letting it graze across his teeth, gently biting down, which caused me to nearly explode. With his other hand, he kept my body still and pinned to him, so he could start the torture all over again.

Snaking around to the front of my body, and under my skirt, his hand left my breast to cup my core.

“Do you want me to make you come, Clare?” he growled.

“Yes, God, yes,” I begged.

Answering my plea, he slid my thong aside, spreading me wide with his long fingers.

“Shit, you’re dripping wet,” he said as he ran a finger lazily over my drenched clit before finally sinking it deep inside me.

A deep sensual moan erupted from me as he added one more, slowly moving them in and out of my body, making me ache.

“God, you’re so f**king tight. Ride me, Clare.”

Following his orders, I placed my hands on his shoulders, rising up and sliding back down again on his stationary hand.

That’s it,” he said, “f*ck my fingers.”

He added one more, thumbing my clit at the same time.

“Faster,” he commanded, his voice growing rougher by the second.

That tightness deep in my belly began to build and I could feel my body soaring higher. With his thumb, he flicked my clit, and that was all it took. I come unglued, crying out in pleasure.

“Oh God!” I screamed, the orgasm claiming me until I was unable to hold myself up and I collapsed into Logan’s arms.

“Holy f**k. That was the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” Logan said.

“I think I almost passed out.” I giggled against his chest, feeling my buzz from the many drinks I had consumed returning.

I felt a smile tug at his lips against my forehead, and he kissed me, running his hands through my hair.

“We better get going. It’s almost Last Call. This parking lot is going to be flooded in a few minutes, and I don’t want anyone seeing that look on your face but me.”

I giggled again. How much did I have to drink? Hadn’t I read something in Cosmo once about orgasms actually making you feel more drunk because of the adrenaline or something? Or maybe I made that up.

“Don’t we, um, need to take care of you?” I asked sheepishly, lifting my head so I could look into his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes.

“Clare, I’m holding on by a string here. Offer me something like that, and I’m going to have you naked in this back seat in five seconds,” I nodded, still giggling and he rolled his eyes.

We adjusted ourselves and got in the front just as the crowd from the bar descended. Wow, he wasn’t kidding.

And oh my God, I had just got freaky in a parking lot!

He drove me home, holding my hand as we talked about Leah and Declan leaving the bar together.

“Do you think they hooked up?” I asked.

“Well, Declan isn’t known for being subtle, and he had his eye on Leah from the minute we walked in that bar. What about her?”

“Leah hasn’t really been with anyone since her breakup, so I wonder if she’ll take her own advice,” I said, looking out the window as we merged on to the interstate.

“What advice?” he asked.

“Oh. Well, when I first met you, and ah, noticed you…”

I looked at him, his eyes glittered with unheard laughter. Smug bastard.

“She said it was time I go out and have some fun, of the male variety. She said I didn’t have to date, just have some fun.”

His eyebrows drew together, and he frowned before shaking his head. “That’s terrible advice.”

“Well, she did suggest you as a starter,” I teased.

“Well, not too terrible of advice then. One night with me and you’ll be mine forever,” he promised as he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles, which sent chills up my spine and heat down to my core.

“But I don’t think I have it in me. The random one night stands. I don’t think I’m built that way,” I admitted.

He shook his head in agreement, “No, you’re not. Jumping into bed with a stranger involves a lack of feeling and emotion for the people you get involved with,” he said. “You are too good a person. Too loving and caring. You could never sleep with someone with the intent of never speaking to them again.”

“You make me sound boring,” I mumbled.

Giving me a sideways glance, he said with assurance, “The woman I just saw come unhinged in the backseat of my car was anything but boring.”

I smiled at the compliment, but his words were still echoing in my head.

“Is that why you did it? So you wouldn’t have to feel?” I questioned. We hadn’t talked much about his checkered past since his divorce two years ago. The gory details had been skimmed over a bit, but he knew I was familiar with it.

“Yes,” he admitted. “When Melanie left, I felt relief. Pure and utter relief. She’d done the one thing I was too much of a coward to do. Then the guilt came and I felt sick. Shouldn’t you be torn up when your wife leaves you for another man? I should have felt rage, but I didn’t. I’d lived every day of our marriage with this overwhelming sense of guilt. Seeing the way she looked at me, her eyes filled with such love and devotion, and I couldn’t return those feelings. I’d always been so fearful I couldn’t love someone and there was my proof,” I tried to interrupt him and tell him he was wrong, but he just continued.