Page 5 of Seven of Hearts

His dark hair was artfully messy after a long day of wedding festivities. Stubble covered his jaw, although he had been clean-shaven that morning.

I wonder what that stubble would feel like between my . . .

Logan’s hands tightened on my ribs, his thumbs grazing my breasts. “You all right? Do I need to get you some solid food?”

It had been quite a while since dinner...And even then, I hadn’t eaten all that much because I was making sure Kylie had everything she needed.

I hiccupped.

A boyish smirk curved up the side of his mouth. “Yeah, you need something to eat.”

“Pretty sure everything is closed,” I said as the elevator came to a stop. I braced for the lurch, but it never came because Logan’s hands never left me. “You’re not in the city anymore. This is Beaufort.”

Logan slid his hand onto the small of my back, guiding me down the hall. “That’s the beauty of room service.”

I leaned to the left as we stopped at Room 328, tipping into his shoulder. “I don’t wanna take up your night. You’re probably tired.”

The door clicked open, and he turned on the lights. “The hair dryer’s in the bathroom,” he said.

The Taylor Creek Inn was tastefully decadent. Sleek countertops and thoughtful touches, like fresh flowers and artfully folded linens, decorated the room. One of the welcome bags I had helped Kylie put together was sitting on the TV stand. It didn’t look like Logan had unpacked at all.

I slipped into the bathroom and reached behind my back, but couldn’t grab the zipper. My muscles strained as I reached a little farther.

Almost . . .justa little . . .

Ha! I arched my back and yanked the zipper down. The hem of my dress snagged under my high heel and pulled tight. I lifted my foot to free the heel from the fabric, but it pulled more, yanking me back. Everything spun as I teetered backward. I let out a shriek as my butt slammed into the slick tile floor.

“Leah!” Logan bolted inside with a look of panic on his face. “Shit. Are you hurt?”

I let out a groan. “My butt’s gonna be bruised.”

“C’mere,” he murmured as he reached to help me up. His hand threaded into my hair. “Watch your head with the counter.”

The tiled floor was blissfully cool, especially because I had been sweating for most of the day.

Cold air danced across my chest as I scrambled away from the sink. “The AC feels so good,” I said.

Logan’s grip tightened. “Leah.”

“Huh?” I said as I looked around for the hair dryer.

“Your tits are out.”

I met his eyes and blinked. “What?”

Slowly, brooding brown eyes left mine and lowered. “Your...”

I looked down, finding not one, but two nipples on full display. Stupid zipper...

“S-sorry,” I stammered. “I just—the zipper—I couldn’t reach it—and?—”

He let out a heavy breath as his fingers flexed around my biceps. “Fuck...”

The profanity sounded reverent.

Thanks to the liquor, the full realization was delayed. “Oh my God. My tits are out. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he blurted out.

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