Page 68 of The Mistake

I cling to his broad shoulders. Helpless to stop this. He kisses a path back to my lips, teases the seam with his tongue before plunging inside again. His hips keep rocking. So do mine. I’m aching for him and he knows it. He growls softly, then slips one hand under my skirt, his fingers tickling my thigh, gliding higher, moving closer to the spot that’s begging for his touch. Millimeters. That’s how close he is. I want to scream for him to touch me already, but he’s taking his time. Rubbing my inner thigh with his thumb. Slowly. Too damn slow.

He breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes, while his hand eases closer to the crotch of my panties. His fingers tremble. His breathing grows labored.

And then he yanks his hand away, his expression so tortured you’d think he’d been water-boarded for three days straight.

“No, goddamn it,” he croaks. “This wasn’t what I wanted.”

“W-what?” I’m stuttering, still dazed from those mind-melting kisses.

“I just wanted a kiss. Not a hook-up.” He draws a deep breath. “I meant what I said the other day. I want to take you on a date.”

“Logan…” I trail off warily.

Footsteps echo from the stairs, and Logan quickly steps back, his gaze shifting to the landing.

When Morris rounds the corner, my heart jumps to my throat.

Oh shit.

Morris. I totally forgot about Morris.

“There you are,” he says, his smile uneasy. “I was worried you might’ve gotten lost on your way to the bathroom.”

I inhale deeply, willing my heart rate to stabilize. Praying that my expression doesn’t look too guilty. Or worse, aroused.

“No, I found it,” I answer. “I ran into…a friend on my way out.”

Logan’s nostrils flare.

“This is Logan,” I add, then gesture to him as if Morris couldn’t figure it out for himself.

My date nods at the guy I was just making out with. “Nice to meet you.” He glances at me. “Ready to rejoin the party?”

No.

Yes.

I don’t even know anymore.

What I do know is that I came to this party with Morris, who happens to be a terrific person, and I’m not about to ditch him for another guy, no matter how tempted I may be.

“Sure.” I make only the briefest amount of eye contact with Logan as I murmur, “I’ll see you around.” Then I follow Morris downstairs and force myself not to look over my shoulder.

But I can feel Logan’s eyes on me the entire time.

22

LOGAN

It’s a damn shame that duels don’t play a role in the modern world anymore. Because right now, I’d totally be down for slapping a leather glove on Morris Ruffolo’s cheek and challenging him to one.

What the hell kind of name is that, anyway?Morris Ruffolo. I’m highly suspicious of people who have last names for first names. And Ruffolo? Is he Italian?

And yes, I know the name of the guy Grace came to the party with last night. After she’d deserted me upstairs, I asked around and found out everything I needed to know. His name, his rep, and of course, his dorm. Which happens to be my current location.

I’ve just knocked on the guy’s door, but he’s taking his sweet ass time answering. I know there’s someone in there, though, because I can hear the muffled sound of a television from inside the room.

I knock a second time, and an aggravated voice calls out, “One sec!”

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