Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)(41)

He asked so much with that question. My eyelids were heavy. I just wanted him. That was it. “I don’t want to think tonight.”

His hand tightened over my hip. He took a long pull from the bottle, then passed it to me. I held it in front of me. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, feeling the burn as the liquid slid down my throat. It warmed me. I took a second pull, then a third. Logan did the same.

“What’s the verdict, Bruce?”

I grinned at my last name. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid up, curving around my back. He leaned toward me as his hand stopped right at my bra. I closed my eyes to savor the feeling of his fingers there. I wanted my shirt off. I wanted my bra off. I wanted the touch of his fingers, but I bit my lip and waited for his answer.

“You know.”

I did. My eyes opened, I gazed right down into him. Our foreheads were so close. Everything was so close. His eyes darted to my lips, darkening, and I thought, Screw it. I closed the distance, but once my lips touched his, he took over. He’d been waiting for me, holding off, and once I gave my answer, he was ready. Sweeping me up in his arms, he carried me to the bed.

He skimmed a hand up my back, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake. He lifted my shirt as he went until he could pull it clear. As my hair fell back down, it gave me a slow caress as well. I shivered a delicious and intoxicating shiver as Logan tilted my head up to meet his gaze.

Hunger. Need. His eyes darkened before his lips fell to mine. That slight pressure sent a mass of sensations through me, and my toes curled at the tantalizing touch of his lips. I wound my arms around his neck, pressing against him as I burned, yet goose bumps ran up and down my bare back.

“Taylor,” Logan murmured, one of his hands falling to my jeans. A gentle touch there, and he guided me backward.

I moved down onto the bed, his arms locked around me. He rolled with me and held himself above me. When he undid my jeans, the ache that had been building turned into a throb. I was wet, already wanting him there. I wanted the feel of him sliding into me, how tight that would be, how connected and intimate. I stretched slowly, savoring the smooth, soft feeling of his sheets on my back as he started to pull my jeans down.

“Logan.” I reached for his face. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted the touch only lovers could relish, and as his lips moved back to mine, I kicked at my pants.

Logan pulled back, and I moaned at the separation, but his smooth chuckle calmed me. I felt his breath moving down my body, a ministration in its own right as he pressed kisses along the way and lingered before he pulled my jeans off, then my underwear. He paused, lifting his head.

I opened my eyes to see him studying the inside of my thigh. I bit my lip, knowing what he saw, and I prepared myself. But when he looked back at me, there was no judgment. He smoothed over my skin and asked, his voice husky, “You have a tattoo?”

I nodded, my throat full with emotion and praying he wouldn’t ask more. “It’s a sparkler.”

“It’s beautiful, Taylor.” He bent and pressed his lips there. “It’s a Goddamn firecracker. Perfect.”

I gasped, my back arching at the shock of his touch. Then he turned his head, moving his mouth to where I ached. As he began to stroke me–kissing, nibbling, licking, and rubbing–his hand grazed over my body from my shoulder to my arm. The side of his hand then brushed against my breast and came to rest on my stomach.

The pleasure was building. The longer he caressed me, the higher my back arched. “Logan!”

He still didn’t stop. A smooth chuckle came from him, sending vibrations through my body, but I was so far gone. I reached down, my fingers sliding into his hair and grabbing hold. He used his tongue now, and I felt a scream building in the back of my throat. It was going to rip from me, so

I sank my teeth into my lip. Then he moved away, and I gasped at the sudden break. But then his lips were on mine as his fingers sank inside of me.

I moaned, unable to keep it in. I’d never been loud during sex, but Logan brought out something new in me. It had never been like this with Eric. There’d been a touch here and there, a hand on the boob, a quick finger pump, and then he’d fill me. He didn’t stretch me, not the way Logan was doing. His finger slid deep before pulling back to go in again. Then a second finger moved with the first, and he kept going. He went deeper than Eric had ever gone, and I was panting.

I grabbed his shoulders, and my nails sank in. He stiffened above me, and I laid my head back on the pillow.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Logan grinned down at me, desire almost palpable on his face. He shook his head, tsking. “If you think you can lay back and just enjoy this, you’re mistaken.”

I stopped biting my lip to grin back up at him. This was new too—laughing, teasing. I was used to silence until Eric was done. I’d get a quick pop of relief, followed by a short, trembling climax, but that was it. Tonight my body glistened with sweat, and I held back from climaxing right now.

Logan looked rested and ready to go all night. “I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” I told him.

“Tomorrow?” He pulled his fingers out and rested, gazing down at me. “You’re going to be sore tonight. I’m going to ride you long and hard until you think the world is only made of sex.” He smirked, arching an eyebrow. “How’s that sound?”

He stole my breath. The way he looked at me—cocky, his eyes full of arousal, and his sole focus on me—he was breathtaking.