Page 125 of Snared Rider

Then I feel him relax against me, and his mouth moves against mine.

The kiss is hot, sensual, wet, desperate and so very perfect. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, as his palm goes to the nape of my neck to pull me closer. My hands go to his shoulders, clinging to him like life-saving driftwood.

Everything about this screams wrong but it feels so right I tune out that voice.

I feel his reluctance as he breaks the kiss, pulling back, his forehead pressed to mine as he massages my throat.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” His voice sounds raw and breathless.

God. I want him.

“Me too,” I admit, panting.

He looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen—than I ever thought possible and I don’t understand why until he speaks again.

“You say those words to me, Beth, you better mean them.”

I swallow hard and let go of everything: my anger, my upset, my hurt. I lay myself bare to him because all I see in front of me is the boy who stood between me and my demons, who protected me, who, even though he hurt me, did it to save me.

“I mean it. One hundred percen—”

I don’t finish the words because Logan seizes my face and leans into me. His lips go to mine and I stiffen for about half a second before I melt against him.

It shouldn’t feel this good, it really shouldn’t. It should be illegal for a kiss to be this amazing. But my entire body feels loose and pliable as he drags me from my seated position onto his lap.

Straddling him, I don’t stop to consider what I’m doing. I’m running on pure, primal instinct when I take his face in my hands and my lips find his again.

The remnants of whatever he ate before I woke lingers on his tongue as I caress my own over his. His hands go to my hips, moving to my back and sliding beneath my top to the bare skin below.

His touch ignites something deep inside me, a primitive need to have him and have him now. I lean into him as far as I can and rub against him like a cat marking its territory.

I deepen the kiss, feeling his tongue probing mine without a hint of uncertainty. His hands move up my spine to where my bra would usually sit, except since the accident I haven't been able to wear one against my ribs. Realising I am braless, Logan makes a low, pleased grunt in his throat and pulls me tighter against him. The movement scrapes my pussy against his cock, which is hard beneath his jeans. I gasp, unable to stop myself as everything down there quivers.

Oh, yeah!

My body definitely remembers Logan and I can’t stop from grinding against him again.

His hands snag my tee and it’s dragged over my head, my hair coming free at the last second and tumbling down my back.

“Fuck,” he growls, and it is not a good growl.

My attention caught at the change in him, I stop, my eyes opening. What I see makes my stomach sink.

He’s frowning at my body.

Shame rolls through me. Oh God, doesn’t he like what he sees?

It’s been a long time since we were last together and my thirty-year-old body is so different from my twenty-year-old one. My hips are fuller, my breasts aren’t as pert as they were and my stomach is no longer completely flat. I even bear a few stretch marks from yo-yo dieting over the years.

My hands move to snag my T-shirt to cover myself. Insecurity, an emotion I’m not familiar with when it comes to my appearance, attacks me.

Well, fuck him. He doesn’t get to judge me just because he still looks like an Adonis.

Logan captures my wrist, stopping me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I hiss, my eyes anywhere but on his. I can’t decide if I’m mortified or boiling mad at him.

“Don’t cover yourself.”

---