Page 31 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Right.” Logan took a swig from his beer as I was jostled by someone desperate for a Mojito. Time to make a move. I snatched Logan’s arm to pull him along—not towards the other two but to the edge of the makeshift dance floor, sand dissolving into velvety darkness as night reclaimed its territory. I felt safer here, shrouded against the risk of a familiar face spotting me with Logan.

I faced him with a smile. “Wanna dance?”

“Sure. But fair warning, I’m pretty damn terrible.” His tone was light, and I liked that about him—how he laughed off what others would treat as a source of embarrassment. It couldn’t be more different from Michael, who’d have spent the night nursing his beer and critiquing others. Jesus, I must have been fucked in theheadto mistake that guy for my destiny.

Done and dusted.

Logan was right—he was no Fred Astaire, his attempts to match the music marked by clumsy enthusiasm. But then I was no Ginger Rogers either. When I shared this thought, Logan ducked down for a laugh that feathered over my cheek.

“I’d say I’ve got more rhythm in the bedroom, but that’d be cheesy.”

“Extremely so.” I hooked a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and tugged him closer. His eyes locked onto mine.

Someone bumped into me.

I twisted around and found a guy right up in my space. A sloppy grin hinted that the drink he clasped like a champagne flute wasn’t his first. His gaze raked me from head to toe. “Sorry, mate,” he slurred. “Didn’t see you there.”

He made no effort to move away so I shifted back just slightly, Logan’s chest solid against my back. “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“How about—,” the dude started.

From behind me, Logan cut him off. “Answer’s no.”

Uh?

The drunk guy blinked, his gaze shifting to Logan’s sudden grip on my waist before he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

He saluted us and staggered away, leaving behind a strange knot of tension behind my ribs. I turned, Logan’s touch falling away at the sight of my frown. “You know,” I told him, “I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself.”

Logan opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Yeah,” he said, a bit delayed. “I know. I just...” He trailed off, brows knitting together as he watched me, shadows sapping all color from his eyes.

“You’re not the boss of me.” I tried and failed to keep my tone light.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Jesus, I didn’t mean it like that. How was this different from what you did with that chick at the bar earlier?”

I huffed. “For one, I didn’t presume to speak for you.”

“You want me to call him back?” Voice tight, Logan waved a hand towards where the guy had vanished. “Didn’t think ‘drunk off his fucking ass’ was your type, but I guess I shouldn’t”—a short, acidic pause—“presume.”

He soundedhurt, and it sliced through my emotional hijack. I took a breath. “I’m sorry. Again.”

“As in ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t gonna work’ or ‘I'm sorry for kinda running hot and cold’?”

“The second.” I scrubbed a hand down my face and sighed. “This may sound like a line, but it truly isn’t you. I’m just a bit...”

“Cautious?” Logan suggested, his tone gentler now. Night tangled in his hair and dripped along the curves of his cheekbones, eyes focused on me.

“Scarred,” I said.

And reached for him.

My fingers caught in the soft strands of his hair, slightly tacky with product. He tilted into my touch, waiting, so fuckingclosethat I could just about taste him.

Hot breath. The crackle of electricity down my spine. I brushedour mouths together, tongue flicking out just to test him, and he opened for me—drew me right in, our tongues sliding together. Easy, wet tangle, both of us breathing out hard through our noses. I cupped my free hand around his jaw and drew him further into the kiss, tongue painting a circle, then sucking lightly.

He kissed me back like there was nothing else, no one else, and God, I felt almost dizzy with it, drunk on the sheer promise. Reggae beats washed against the inside of my mind and thrummed along my spine, voices and laughter a backdrop to the rush of blood in my ears. Our beer bottles were squashed between us, cool through the fabric of my T-shirt.

Logan pulled away with a soft bite to my lower lip, his fingertips gliding up my arms. “Okay, um. Wow?”

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