Page 75 of Keepsake

I kept calling for god, calling for Alvaro himself. My hand moved to his head, taking the buzzed cut under my palm. I shoved his head over my pussy and fucked his mouth.

Having Alvaro like that felt like take and release. In control because he kneeled. Out of it, when he asked me to trust.

My voice failed and I came, my hips moving and looking for friction, making Alvaro groan as he kept licking me.

“Tell me, Jefa,” he growled. “Who owns you?”

My head hit the tiles, eyes opening with the irrevocable truth. “You.”

Ireachedquicklyforthe towel, bringing it over her shoulders, covering her up. Her taste was on the tip of my tongue, my cock impossibly hard against my zipper. It took everything in me not to throw her against the tiles and fuck her within an inch of her life, but that was a bad idea.

Everything was a bad idea. Fucking up my relationship with Logan wasn’t an option. Not only because she was the kids’ legal guardian, but because I wanted to help.

I truly fucking wanted to help, and that realization slammed against my chest. And by helping her, I didn’t mean with my fucking dick.

Taking a step back, I nodded to the room.

“Go ahead and get dressed.”

She blinked at me. Her fingers gripping the towel, it didn’t cover her completely, it had a gap right in the middle showing me her navel and down to her pussy.

Shit.

“I have more towels under the sink,” she told me, her voice far away.

Maybe I fucked her pussy with my tongue so hard, it changed something in her because this wasn’t the Logan I knew. Her voice was softer, her eyes unfocused. Seeing that she wasn’t turning away, I sighed and got moving.

I peeled off my soaked T-shirt, toed off my boots, and dragged down my jeans. I looped my fingers over the band of my underwear and looked up, catching her eyes while she watched me.

“Logan, go get dressed.”

She tilted her head to the side, curious eyes still unblinking, zoomed in on the bulge in my boxers.

Groaning, I wrapped a towel around my waist and grabbed her shoulders.

“Come on, Jefa…” I practically begged her.

I guided her back to the bedroom and thank god she followed without complaining. I made sure to wrap the towel securely around her body, afraid to catch a sight of anything that made me change my mind about being good. Right then, the intercom chimed.

“Get dressed,” I told her once again. “I’ll get our food.”

Before she could react, I turned and went to my room, throwing the wet underwear to the corner and grabbing sweatpants and a t-shirt. I jogged to the elevator, only letting the air out of my lungs slowly as it made its descent to the ground floor.

Rubbing my face on my palm, I cursed. I barely had time to count the ways this was a bad idea, and the doors were opening again. I met the delivery man and paid him, my mind still on Logan upstairs.

She was feeling like shit and yet her body melted in my hands, and it wasn’t just because I made her come. She needed someone to lean on. Even if made me feel like a fucking king, I couldn’t be that person to Logan.

I grabbed knives and forks, water, and a couple of trays so we could eat in bed. I was sure she wasn’t up for anything else right now.

My theory was proved correct when I arrived back at her room and she was still in her towel, sitting on her bed and looking at the wall.

“Logan…” I sighed and went to her, leaving the food and utensils on the top of the dresser before kneeling in front of her. “What’s going on?”

“You regret it.” Her voice was small. “The second it ended. I saw you regretting it.”

“That’s not it.” I defended myself.

Logan made a noise from the back of her throat, something ugly and self-deprecating I didn’t like. She took her hands from mine and tried to put space between us.

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