Tall, Tatted and Tempting(27)

“Matt says we should wake Paul up and let him sleep on the couch.”

Logan’s eyes get wider and he smiles. “I like that idea. But I would rather sleep with you any day.”

“You could have fooled me,” I spit out.

“What?” he asks. Could he not see my lips? Or did he not understand what I said?

“I was standing stark naked in front of you, Logan. And you didn’t have any interest in me.” I hold up a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth. “I get it. You don’t have feelings like that for me. It’s all right.”

Suddenly, Logan jerks my hand, rolling me gently onto the bed. His body covers mine, and his face is a breath away from me. “You think I don’t like you that way?” he asks. He’s looking into my face like he’ll find something he’s missing there.

“You laughed at me.”

“I laughed because the one girl I do want to f*ck is naked in my room and I can’t have her!” he growls. “It’s like divine intervention.”

He wiggles a knee between my knees and kicks my legs open wider. He settles there between my thighs and rocks forward so that he presses against my panties. He’s hard. So hard.

“I was naked and you wouldn’t even look at me,” I start. I close my eyes.

“I didn’t want to disrespect you,” he says.

He rocks his hips against me again, and this time the length of him notches against my cleft. My breath catches.

“I want you so bad it hurts.” His voice is quiet, and harder to understand than it normally is.

“You didn’t even look at me,” I protest.

He sits up on his knees and lifts my leg up by his shoulder. He’s not looking at my body. “You have pink toenail polish. And you have a bit of stubble on your legs.” He grins. “You can use my razor if you want.” His hand slides up my calf, toward my knee, leaving a wake of goose bumps behind. “Your thighs are firm, and you have a generous flare to your hips. His hand slips to the front of my panties, where he drags his thumb back and forth for a moment. “You have this tiny dusting of hair, here.” His thumb presses against my cleft and I arch my back to press harder against him. He chuckles. His hands drift up my sides, lifting the shirt. He tugs it up, until it rests just beneath my breasts. He presses a kiss to my belly. My nipples are hard and standing tall. He licks his lips. “Your nipples are pink and puffy and perfect. And your breasts will fit in my hands.” He throws the shirt back down, groaning as he lies back down on top of me, rocking his length against me again. “I saw everything,” he says. “I was just trying to be a gentleman.” He laughs. “You thought I didn’t look.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Silly woman,” he scolds.

“You looked.” That’s all I can say. And it comes out as a croak. Thank God he can’t hear the quiver in my voice.

“I looked,” he admits. “You were naked. And so f*cking beautiful that I could barely breathe. Of course, I looked.”

“You look at a lot of naked women?” I don’t want the answer to that question after it’s out of my mouth.

“Not anymore,” he breathes against my lips. His lips touch mine, tentatively, and then he retreats. He’s making me crazy. His hips press insistently, pushing him closer and closer to my heat. “I haven’t seen a single naked woman since the day I met you.”

“Do you want to see any naked women?” I ask. My voice is still doing that quavery thing. His hand lies on my throat, almost like he’s listening with his fingertips for the sound of my voice.

He shakes his head, looking directly into my eyes. “Just one.”

I reach down to tug his shirt over my head, but he stops me with a grunt.

“What?” I ask.

He looks into my eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks.

This time, it’s me who throws her arm over her eyes. I want to scream. I can’t tell him anything. “I can’t tell you,” I say.

He tugs the shirt back down around my hips. “Then your clothes stay on.” He kisses me, his lips nibbling at mine until I’m breathless. “And so do mine.”

“Your brother said you should f*ck me and get it over with.”

He heaves a sigh. “That’s because he thinks I’ll f*ck you and not want to see you anymore. But I can assure you, that’s not the case.” He presses against me again, rocking against my cleft, the ridge of his manhood pressing against my clit. “Once I get to be inside you, I’ll never want to give you up.” He kisses the side of my neck, suckling gently as he moves across the front of my throat. His five o’clock shadow abrades my tender skin. But I don’t want him to stop.

I reach down to cup him through his jeans, and he stills.

“Don’t play with me,” he warns. His voice is strong but quiet. “If you want to be my friend, you can be my friend. We can sleep in the same bed, we can have meals together, and we can spend time doing things we both like.”

I lift his head so that he’s looking at me. “I want to be your friend,” I say.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“What does that mean?” I cry, slapping the bed with my open palms in frustration.

He looks confused. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s the same as being my friend, but I get to make you come.” He rocks against me once again. Then he lifts away. I want to scream.