Page 39 of Not By the Playbook

“I am.” His smile is almost shy, but his gaze is resolute.

“But…I thought…” Words stall in my lungs. I’ve lost the ability to function.

Logan’s face dims when I don’t respond, but he continues anyway, “You wanted out as soon as you got the job. You immediately started planning how we would split up.” His fingers rake through his hair. “Hell, you even said there was no need to see each other once Jenna moved out.” The muscles in his jaw tighten.

“Only because you told Jenna to hurry and make up her mind about me. I heard you!”

“You did?” His brow knits, then a touch of censure crosses his expression. “Becs, honey, the only reason I said that was because I saw how anxious it was making you. I was pissed with Jenna for dragging her ass and stressing you out.”

His thumb sweeps back and forth along my jaw, and I have to choke back a sob. “I thought you were done with me. That you were tired of being stuck, especially when I didn’t find out for days after I expected to. And you’ve got hundreds of girls coming on to you. You could have any of them you want.” The urge to look away is powerful, but Logan’s gaze keeps mine pinned to his.

“Maybe I can get any woman I want. But I onlyneedone. You. I know it’s fast, but Becs…I’m falling for you.”

Everything stops. I struggle to snatch ahold of his words, make sense of them. But shreds of comprehension are slow to piece together.

“But maybe I’m the only one that feels that way,” he mumbles. He drops his hands and steps back.

That speeds up the assembly process in my brain.Oh no, you’re not getting away after dropping that bomb.

“Wait.” I grab his wrist and search his face. I see nothing there but sincerity.

“You believe me?” he asks urgently.

I don’t know. Terror and longing twist through me. I’m petrified that he is playing with me, but the intensity of his gaze wars with that logical side of my brain, urging me to trust him.

Insecurity and doubt knot my insides. Can I risk hacking through that forest of uncertainty and subterfuge and doubt?

Maybe he sees the worry in my eyes because he draws me close. A prickling heat behind my lids makes me hide my face against him. He wraps his arms around me, a protective cocoon.

“But you can have anyone, anything,” I whisper into his chest.

A heavy exhale brushes my hair. “Who cares about anything if I can have everything. Because that’s what you are to me. And everything that I am? The fuckup and the player and the impetuous idiot? It’s all yours. Every single part of me.” A hint of vulnerability steals into his voice, “If you want it, that is.”

My breath catches.

I take a small step back, making only enough space to look up into his eyes. And there it is. Everything, just like he said. The vines of tension loosen their grip.

It’s time to be honest here. With him. With myself. I gather up every ounce of courage within me. “I want it. I want you. I have from the beginning, but couldn’t believe you might want me back. For real. For more.”

His eyes blaze, his features are fierce. “For good, Becs. I want you for good.”

He pulls me in for a hard kiss, and I moan. It’s only been three days, but it feels like forever.

“Christ. I needed that!” he gasps.

“I need more.” We tango backward into the living room, his mouth on mine the entire time. Hard, hot kisses that have us toppling onto the couch. My clothes vanish. A moment later, his pants are off.

“Fuck. Condom.”

“Clean. Pill.” I say, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Same. Bare?”

I complete our shorthand by wrapping my legs around him, locking him against me. The thick head of his cock seeks my center, and then he’s pushing into me with a groan, as if he is dying. I moan when he slows, stops.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His cock pulses inside of me, while his heart thuds against my breast. He leans on his hands and eyes meet mine, the intensity in his gaze is a promise. I rake my fingers through his hair and drag him down. My lips find his, and I’m kissing him desperately. Whatever is holding him back snaps. He draws back and then thrusts inside me so hard, my toes tingle. He pushes in again and again, as if he can’t get enough. Each rock of his pelvis against my clit makes me gasp. The sound meshes with the slapping of his balls against my ass and the creaking couch springs. His mouth moves to my jaw, down my neck, and his hands slide down the curve of my thighs, pushing my knees even wider to receive him. I grab his hips, tethering him to me.

I explode, and the bombs going off behind my eyelids are better than any number of shots. He drives in once more and roars my name.

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