Page 53 of Keepsake

But the only person who tried to keep up with my career was the one I was too hardheaded to pay attention to.

I left Sofia alone, too angry with my parents to keep a relationship with her. And the only person who watched out for Sofia?

Logan Hart.

Shit, I punched the bag again and again, trying to make Logan sound less appealing.

But it didn’t matter where my mind went, it came back to her in those leggings with a smile on her face, wanting a fucking back yard for the three kids she got after a shitty deal.

I stopped punching, holding the bag when it bobbed in front of me. Taking a breath, I rubbed my face, but the feeling was still there.Restless.

I shook my head, but Logan’s smile was printed under my eyelids. She was the picture of wholesome and I wanted to eat her alive.

I shouldn’t, I couldn’t, but that was beyond the point.

Sitting on the bench beside the weights, I scratched my shadow of a beard as I regulated my breathing.

Fucking Logan, making me wonder. Those little gasps of hers. They got me twisted, even though they were never aimed at me.

I wondered if I could make her gasp. If her voice went soft when she was needy. If that blush rose up from her tits to her cheeks. If her nipples were pink like her lips.

Shit.

Before I knew it, I was hard as a rock, doing the opposite of what I should have been doing.

Instead of forgetting about this whole thing, I parted my legs and palmed myself over the basketball shorts.

Feeling my piercing on the tip of my cock, I thought about how I should stop and head for the shower, but the house was silent and the images of Logan spreading her legs to me were vivid in my imagination.

Glancing once over at the door, it was half closed, but no one was home, so it didn’t matter. I had at least two hours before the kids were out of school.

I took myself out and promised it was only one time. I wasn’t going to make a habit out of thinking about Logan. I needed it now, but then never again.

My mouth watered thinking about her. Those prissy little suits she wore. The severe ponytail low on her neck. She was all business.

I bet she wasn’t all the time.

Before I could stop, I stroked. Slowly at first, playing with the barbell ring through the tip.

I flicked my wrist over, tightening the grip as I went down. In my dreams, Logan was finally relaxed. Her shoulders down, her smile playful. She was the same Logan, that cute little nose, the perky tits and hair smelling like strawberries, but I got to see the other side, too.

She came willingly, her eyes full of desire, her voice full of want.

I kept going, increasing my pace, as images of Logan ran through my mind. I dirtied up every single interaction we had.

I ate her pussy in the kitchen. I fucked her at the construction site. I threw her in the back of my truck, and she rode me like a fucking champion.

Dream Logan did all that with a smile, those rosy cheeks, and full of sass. She was wet for me, ready to give, and tasted amazing. And even in my dreams, even as I stroked myself harder and said I was never doing it again, I knew it was a lie.

I shuddered, ready to come with that image of Logan plastered in my mind. That fucking smile that shattered me into pieces, that taste of strawberries on my tongue.

I came like a train, my growl taking over the gym. I came so hard, I couldn’t even feel shame for the fucking mess I made on myself. A forty-six-year-old, so horny I couldn’t make it into the bedroom.

Shaking my head, I glanced at the door, but no one was there. Not even Dream Logan, wet and waiting for me.

Ohmygod.

Lachlan was so heavy. He fell asleep sometime during the drive home after running errands and I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. I knew he was going to be a pain tonight when he couldn’t sleep, but I wasn’t a good disciplinarian. I could admit to that one.

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