Porn Star(106)

In a flash, all sense of propriety goes out the window and I’m crawling over the counter to leap into Logan’s arms.

And then we’re kissing, greedily, desperately, our mouths clashing awkwardly with eagerness. My ass is still on the counter, but I wrap my legs around his waist, and his hands thread possessively through my hair, and I can’t even think because my feelings are so big and consuming.

“You’re crying,” he whispers when I pull away to catch my breath.

“I can’t help it. You enrolled in school for me.” I watch my thumb sweep across his jawline, too overwhelmed to look him in the eye.

“Hey.” With two fingers, Logan pushes my chin up to meet his gaze. “I enrolled in school for me. I rented out my house and am living in a one-bedroom in Texas for you. Got it?”

Even better. I’m grinning, but I rein it in to give him a look of mock seriousness. “Got it.”

He swipes away my tears with the back of his finger then wraps a hand behind my neck. “Awfully convenient that the same school you chose has a fairly decent film program, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Convenient. That’s what that was.” I like the idea of fate and everything, but I’m not one to rely on it alone. So I nudged the universe a little. Can you blame me?

“You knew I’d follow you here, didn’t you?”

My mind flashes to that Tarot’s star card, the card that I’ve held close for all these months. “I didn’t know. I hoped.”

Logan pulls back to study me. “Why didn’t you say that’s what you wanted?”

“I couldn’t ask you to give up your world for me. You would have resented me forever. You had to choose that for yourself.” I’m so proud that he has, that he’s thought about this and stayed true to his feelings while taking planned, logical steps that are good for him and his future.

“Hanged man has to hang himself?” God, I love him.

“You got it.” Then, because it seems like maybe I should be sure he really has chosen what I think he has, that he’s really okay with it, I ask, “So you’re completely out of the porn business?”

“Not completely.” He continues to search my face while he talks, perhaps looking for my approval. “I’m still producing long distance. Tanner’s holding down the fort. I’ll probably do some directing now and then.”

“But no more performing?”

He shakes his head, and it sounds like a promise when he says, “No more performing.”

I’m relieved. And, strangely, a little something else. “No more Logan O’Toole films. That’s almost disappointing.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates through me. “Maybe, I could come out of retirement for a film or two. But I’ll only star with one woman.” His voice gets low and serious. “I’ll only ever perform again with you, Devi.”

I reach up to capture his mouth with mine, kissing him in approval.

But he breaks away after only a few seconds, pulling back with a somber expression. “I’m sorry, babe. Really sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t quit before. I know that it hurt you…” He trails off, I think, because this apology is hard for him.

I know he needs to say this, but I need him to know I already know. “I get it. You didn’t mean to hurt me. You were doing your job. A job that you loved.”

“I didn’t really love it anymore when I didn’t have you.”

Seriously, my ovaries just imploded. Sensitive Logan is so freaking hot.

He cradles my face against his hand. “And, besides hurting you, it hurt me. I was in love with you. Even before you left, I knew that loving you changed things. That it should change things. I knew that every time I was with someone who wasn’t you, I was betraying that emotion, cheapening the moments we shared with these false imitations. I promise I figured it out pretty fast after you left. I’m just sorry it wasn’t sooner.”

And I’d thought I was done with the waterworks. “I’m not going to lie,” I sniffle, “I’ve been miserable without you. But I think you were probably worth the wait.”

He answers with another kiss, one I can feel in between my thighs, and our hands start roving, and if not for the polite clearing of a throat behind me, it’s quite possible that our display of affection might have moved from PG-13 to rated R.

Who am I kidding? Rated R would be tame for us.

Like we did when we were caught at the art gallery, Logan and I freeze while Jake, the throat-clearer, opens the drawer on the other side of the counter. “Don’t mind me. I just came out for a deposit slip.”

I turn and give him an apologetic smile. He returns it with a look that says we’re-good-but-you-better-believe-I’m-asking-for-details before going back to his paperback.

We laugh in unison.

Then, reluctantly, I say, “While I’d like to keep making out with you, I am on the clock. My new job doesn’t encourage heavy petting like my last one did.”

“Good. I’d be fiercely jealous if it did.” He kisses me once more, chastely, then swats my ass. “Now get back to your side of the counter so I can calm down before I walk out of here. I still need to pay my tuition, too.”

“Oh yeah. Let’s do that.” I unwrap my legs from him and scoot back to my place. “Do you have an invoice?”