Page 82 of Perfect Playbook

Her mouth disconnects from mine, and she lets out a scream. “Yes…”

“Is this what you wanted? You want it harder?” I growl.

“Yes,” she breathes.

Ecstasy rises inside me like a wild roar waiting to release. I’m filled to the brim, plunging deep inside, riding her bare with no abandon. I need to be deeper, I’m insatiable now that I have her.

I slide her off the edge of the counter, and she braces herself with her hands behind her. I drive into her, my hips making contact with the cradle of her thighs. Her tits bounce, and tendrils of hair fall over her forehead with my every thrust. There’s a lusty sheen of perspiration right over her heart.

“Come on my cock, Shay.”

“Logan…” She unravels.

I drive in hard until my balls tighten and my ass clenches, trying to last longer, but I can’t hold back the ecstasy. I spill myself inside her, a surge so powerful it’s blinding. I’m fucking seeing stars.

When my dick finally stops pulsing, I place her curvy ass back down on the counter.

Eventually, her breathing calms, and she opens her eyes. She blows a piece of her fallen hair off her forehead. “Wow.”

“That’s just what a man wants to hear.”

She laughs from her chest. Her eyes are wide. None of the same questions that were there before we started this are there. But I can’t quite read her either.

But that doesn’t matter.

She said yes.

I slip my slick dick out of her, kiss her warm, balmy forehead, her nose, her soft, swollen lips. I find my shirt to wipe us both off.

I grab her dress on the floor and shake it to straighten it out the best I can and I hand it to her. “We have work to do, Mendez.”

“We?” She slides her dress over her head.

“Always we. I told you I got you.”

She rewards me with rosy cheeks rounding, her eyes softening. “You’re good with a paintbrush?”

“I’m shockingly talented at everything,” I tease.

She searches the ceiling for that person up there who always agrees I’m cocky. She comes back to me.

“I can’t have my wife doing a road trip without sleeping tonight. I’ll be worried sick about you,” I insist.

She catches her smile between thinned lips. “Fine, you can help.”

“So you trust me?” I press.

She smirks. “I said you can help.”

We spend the next few hours with our heads down, me forcing myself to concentrate and not fuck up her tiles. It takes more energy to not touch her than it does to keep painting after what has already been a long day of work and travel.

But it pays off when she gazes with hands on her hips, satisfied with the hundreds of pieces that will make up her edible work of art. Her genius astounds me, and my mind wanders to what she’d create forourwedding cake.

It’s just turned one in the morning. We walk down the hallway, her in her dress and no bra, me in my boxer briefs, and it hits me. Last night, all I wanted was to be in bed with her. And now, I’ll get what I wanted.EverythingI’ve ever wanted.

After a chase scene with the cat, which Shay couldn’t seem to keep out of the room until she placed him in Nino’s teepee, we shed our clothes and climb into bed naked.

She needs sleep and I know it, but our hands still find each other. Her leg hugs over mine; the length of her body and every inch of her silky skin hugs me until she falls asleep breathing calm waves of breath over my cheek. I’m in heaven.

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