Page 63 of Kilt Trip

Then his mouth was on hers, fusing their lips with his heat.

She felt out of control, like a car skidding on ice, powerless to stop the inevitable crash. And also alarmingly confident Logan would be there to save her from the impact. She trusted him.

He pulled back, rummaged in his bag, and returned, rolling on a condom. When he moved between her legs, his thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Addie.” The sound of her name in Logan’s melodic accent reached her like a breathless whisper on the wind.

He slid into her, and she cried out, twisted her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

Logan’s breath came in short bursts, stirring the hair by her ear. She trailed her fingertips over each bump on his spine.

All the wanderlust she’d ever felt distilled into a singular desire to explore him.

Map him.

Claim him.

Addie’s hands moved across the smooth skin of his back, the slope of his shoulders, the coarse hair on his chest, and she looked up into eyes as deep as the ocean.

They rocked together, moving to a slow rhythm.

His soft exhale warmed her lips. He cradled her face. Kissed her eyelids. Her nose. Her mouth.

Slowing down. Always slowing down.

His weight pinned her to the bed, but the lightness gathering inside her rushed up to meet him as if there was no distinction between his body and hers.

Everything in her was coiled too tight, demanding release. His heartbeat inside her body couldn’t be ignored, and she rolled her hips, pulling him closer as she tried to prove all the words she didn’t know how to say.

Finally giving in to the fire burning between them, he crushed his mouth against her swollen lips, alternating between nipping and soothing.

He pulled her knee up to his side to move deeper inside her, and she whimpered. His hand skated up her thigh before reaching between them to stroke her. She shattered around him in a sea of electric sparks, the moment unexpected in its certainty.

He followed her over the edge and they lay panting, breathing in each other’s air. His lips found hers again, soft and tender, as if, even now, he couldn’t get enough.

Then he rolled away from her to clean up, taking the heat and security with him.

Addie pulled the comforter up to her chin. She wanted to close in on herself, but also to pull Logan around her and never let him leave this room.

She wanted to kiss him.

She maybe wanted to cry.

Logan reappeared at the edge of the bed, his muscles flexing as he stretched his arms above his head, every inch the Highland-laird fantasy come to life. He looked sleepy and sated, while Addie felt split-open, some baser instinct urging her to find shelter, to hide.

Usually, this would be the time she’d collect her clothes and hightail it back to her hotel. But she didn’t want to do that with Logan.

He looked down at her and smiled, barely an upturn at the corners of his mouth, but she bathed in it. The heat and promise curled around her and soothed the cold panic clawing up her spine.

He climbed into bed, sliding his arm under her and pulling the blankets up and over them. He rolled them so his weight was half on top of her, pinning her to the bed, anchoring her.

Cuddling was a sentimental extravagance she’d convinced herself she didn’t need. Yet here, in Logan’s arms, as his warmth slipped beneath her skin, she could admit she needed this very much. She tucked her nose against his neck, her arm banded across his middle, and clung to him.

His breath filtered through her, same as the train whistle in the distance, swelling, receding, returning again. The skim of his fingertips was light across her collarbone, teasing at the hollow of her shoulder, the press of his lips following. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her hair.

Slow. Deliberate.

So fucking earnest.

Addie’s heart beat like the rain—too fast and too shallow. She wasn’t sure she could reciprocate a declaration out loud, but she craved the reassurance that she wasn’t alone in feeling stripped-down and raw, like she’d given some vital part of her that left her defenseless.

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