Page 105 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“Do you?” I’m looking up at him, my arms loosely wrapped around his waist, and his around my shoulders.

“I really do.”

I think he’s about to kiss me goodnight when he says, “How about a game of two-player Munchkin? My place or yours?”

“Are you challenging me to a competition, Alexander?”

His arms are still looped behind my back.

“Only if you’re up to the challenge, Pennington.” His eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Always.” My smile breaks across my face. “Prepare to be humiliated.”

“Never.” He winks and releases me. “I’ll be right back.”

We end up playing two games of Munchkin. Logan wins the first one and gloats appropriately, standing up and doing a ridiculous spontaneous dance around my living room, singing, “I won! Ooooh, I won!”

I’m doubled over in laughter, barely caring that I lost.

I win the next game.

“You need to do a victory dance,” Logan says to me from across the coffee table.

“You celebrate your way. I’ll celebrate mine.”

“And how is that?”

I walk around the coffee table, feeling bold and more comfortable with Logan than ever. He leans back as if he knows what’s coming. I settle down across his lap, loop my arms around his neck and say, “I celebrate with a kiss for the winner.”

He smiles. “Much better than a dance. I’m taking notes for the next time I cremate you in a contest.”

I cup his jaw with my hands. “Less talking, Alexander. I’m here to collect my winning kiss.”

He chuckles. And then he leans in and kisses me, softly, tenderly, slowly. All humor evaporates the moment our lips touch. I lean into him and lose myself in our kiss. Something feels more constant and reliable between us tonight, like we’ve crossed a bridge or knocked a chunk of bricks out of the wall between us and used them to shore up our foundation. Logan feels more and more like home to me, like the man I’ll run to when I’m in trouble, the person who will have my back in every situation.

I run my hands through his hair and hold him to me. He cups my neck with his hand. His kiss makes me restless. The gentle stroke of his hand down my back soothes me. I want more of him and yet, here we are. He’s so sturdy and constant. And our kiss is a flame, burning stronger the longer we stay connected.

When he pulls back, he stares into my eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” His fingers trail through my hair, his gaze lingering—heavy, reverent—as if I’m something rare, something remarkable. No one has ever looked at me this way before.

“Flattery and pizza?” I tease, my voice raspy with emotion I can’t completely camouflage. “You’re pulling out the big guns.”

“I think it’s only considered flattery if it’s false or exaggerated. You overwhelm me, Olivia.”

I overwhelm him?

“The feeling is entirely mutual, Logan.”

He brushes the back of his hand down my cheek. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something else, but then Rhett toddles over and climbs into my lap, demanding center stage.

“I’d better take him on a walk,” Logan says with a sigh. “It’s been a while since he’s been out.”

I lift Rhett off my lap and reluctantly stand up. “Duty calls,” I agree.

Logan collects Rhett’s leash while I pack up the game.

At the doorway he asks, “Running in the morning?”

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